It didn’t matter to old Doc Watson that those fools who administered the day-to-day activities of the medical school research center had perched a caduceus above the main entrance, instead of the staff of Aesculapius – the  god of healing, for all that mattered to him was discovering a drug that would lead one to ataraxia – freedom from the clamor and stress induced by modern life, and over the years he had developed crow’s feet and nearly gone blind in the attempt, but no matter how hard he tried, the chirality of the chemical formula always came out wrong, so that the resulting compound could not be a truly effective medication.