Chapter 330 Penicillin, Do You Want to Grab It?
Gretel agreed to write the thesis, which surprised Archmage Carlisle. In the night, he glanced back and saw a string of lights behind him - the carriage arranged by the city hall to carry the apprentices from the infectious disease hospital back to the Master's Tower, so that they would not be exhausted and had to walk a kilometer - and smiled. Gretel:
"You just write the paper if you are asked to do so? You don't even have to bargain or anything?"
"Just write it, it's not something that should be kept secret." Gretel yawned on the horse, tears welling up in his eyes. "I definitely can't keep such an important thing. It should have been handed over to the parliament...ah ha..."
Just kidding, that’s penicillin!
Strategic materials!
On the battlefield, one man is equivalent to having half as many priests out of thin air!
Even in the previous life, the research and development of this kind of thing was supported by the US military, and the military placed orders to purchase it! Otherwise, how could Walter Flory, the Australian pathologist who developed penicillin, have pilots bring soil back from airports in various countries when they go on missions for him to isolate bacterial strains?
Not to mention its value in curing diseases and saving people, it is simply impossible for him, a third-level mage, to keep this kind of thing!
Archmage Carlisle was surprised and delighted. The little guy is quite self-aware, so there is no need for him to try to persuade or even coax him. However, the better Gretel talks, the more he wants to tease:
"Don't talk about licensing fees?"
"Never mind...the Parliament has always been very generous..." Gretel continued to yawn unsteadily. In fact, the Council has never been stingy in terms of remuneration before, except for always wanting to squeeze out more skills: "That's it..."
"That's what..."
"That is, the targeted mutagenesis and large-scale culture of Penicillium all depend on Elder Wood and the others... Their share cannot be missed..."
Archmage Carlisle: "..."
Good boy, wait for me here!
Which family are you from? !
He was so angry and funny that he immediately wanted to say something, but when he turned his head, he swallowed all his words. With a finger, an activated rope flew out and tied Gretel to the horse:
It was so dangerous, half of my body was leaning down, and I was just a little bit close to falling off the horse!
Phantom Pony can’t help but ride like this! Although it is a magic mount, it will not fly with its master's collar in its mouth!
Archmage Carlisle paid full attention and sent Gretel back to the entrance of the mage tower. The invisible servant came out and took the people in. Gretel was leaning on the invisible servant, sleeping so hard that he was drooling. He didn't even know who put him on the bed.
When I woke up, it was bright. In addition to the original apprentices of the Mage Tower, a full two hundred people lined up outside the tower, waiting to learn how to protect themselves in the infectious disease hospital.
"Ah..." Grete picked up the quilt and covered his head:
"Let them teach...let the apprentices teach, and I will sleep a little longer..."
I'm almost exhausted... I haven't worked at such high intensity for a long time. Every muscle in my body is sore...
Relying on his tutor's privileges, he stayed in bed for an extra quarter of an hour, but finally got up honestly. After breakfast and acceptance of learning results, everyone immediately entered the infectious disease hospital and got into intense work.
"Remember to wear gloves and a mask!"
"Put on the bubble technique!"
"Wash your hands, wash your hands! Don't touch your face, don't touch any exposed skin, and don't eat until you're clean!"
"Each person takes care of five patients! Take your temperature every hour and record your physical condition! Are there any abdominal pain, bloating, diarrhea, headache, or any discomfort? Summarize it every hour and give it to the person in charge of your ward!"
Gretel warned him all the way. Walking to the door of the hospital, a great magician from the medical department and a dozen low-level mages came to greet him with tired faces:
"I'll leave it to you during the day..."
"Good work, how was last night?"
"Not bad, only 15 died."
"..."
"There are still 35 patients who don't look good. Although we follow your arrangements and inject them with special medicines regularly, some people can't hold on any longer. Here is the list, as well as a list of symptoms."
A thick record book fell into Grete's palm. His hands were pressed heavily, and then he clenched them tightly, as if he was holding the lives of more than 1,000 people:
"Okay, thank you. Leave the rest of the treatment to me."
With hundreds of people helping out, the treatment on the second day was far less chaotic than the first day. Gretel checked the critically ill patients one by one and sent them for surgery. He also reviewed the effects of penicillin:
"From 12 noon yesterday to 8 o'clock this morning, 1,057 patients were injected with penicillin..."
"A total of *** injections..."
"The condition of 357 patients improved... 678 remained the same... 59 worsened..."
"The efficacy is still not satisfactory." Gretel frowned sadly:
"It feels a little worse when intravenous infusion is changed to intramuscular injection. Should we increase the dose? Or shorten the administration time? What do you say about the pharmacokinetics of penicillin G? How long can the effective bactericidal concentration be maintained?"
He held his head and struggled to remember. For some things, the book only gives a rough outline or lists formulas, and you have to find your own way to calculate them. Gretel was a clinician in his previous life, not a researcher. Many of the formulas seemed unfamiliar, and he had to pick them up, recall them, and calculate them again.
He was quite dissatisfied with the efficacy of penicillin and was still struggling with how to adjust it. On the other side of the city, there were more than one or two forces who were jealous of the efficacy of penicillin and were trying their best to get it.
The archbishop of the Temple of the God of War took a rare trip in a car. Opposite the seats, two young apprentices sat side by side. The legs are tightly together, and the two hands are pressed hard on the knees. There is caution written on the somewhat immature face:
"Yes, yesterday I was in charge of Wards 5-8 on the 3rd floor. There were 89 patients in total. Among the 89 patients, two people received magical treatment and have recovered. 11 people were in critical condition and improved slightly after receiving magical treatment. , did not recover, but were also injected with penicillin, and 76 people were injected with penicillin only. Of the 76 people, 28 improved, 32 remained unchanged, and six died."
"Do you think they would have been able to survive until now without penicillin?"
"I - I'm just an apprentice, Your Excellency the Archbishop. But I think those people's symptoms are very serious and they may not be able to survive for long."
"Hmm...Okay, kid. In the past few days, you should pay attention to collecting the efficacy of penicillin and report it to me every day. May the God of War bless you. You can go down now and ask Jimmy to come up."
The Archbishop tapped the car window with his thick fingers, once and for all, lost in thought. On the top of Igor Peak, the magicians in Black Crow Swamp have already made a huge quarrel:
"This thing is made to restrain us!"
"No, with it, our plague magic can develop safely!"
"It should be restricted!"
"No, I think it should be greatly encouraged! I don't know what the price is. If it's suitable, I would like to purchase a batch myself..."
"How much money have we already squeezed from him? Are we still going to give him money?!"
"Well, I think it's not impossible to replace it with something else...such as a skeleton for daily work...even if it's not that flexible, it can still move things and transport patients..."
"Do you really want it? How many people were scared to death by the skeleton yesterday?"
"You can set up an illusion! The illusion can be customized! Don't tell me that you people are not proficient in trapping!"
****
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