The atmosphere inside the Institute for Biomedical Integrity (IBI), a mid-sized but fiercely respected government research agency, had reached a boiling point.
Dr. Leantha McKennon – stoic immunologist, data wonk, and never one to suffer fools – slammed her mug on the conference table. Coffee sloshed out like it, too, had had enough. Her colleagues flinched.
“I hope you are all paying attention,” she said, narrowing her eyes at the latest email from the Department of Health and Holistic Safety (DHHS). “This is insane. This is what happens when you allow people without a shred of scientific integrity into high places.”
She turned her laptop so everyone could see the memo: a preliminary directive from Secretary R. Fletcher Kenmore Jr., the newly appointed head of DHHS, proposing a “probable restriction” on publishing government-funded research in “pharma-influenced” journals. The so-called Big Three were named explicitly: The NEJM (New East Journal of Medicine), The Global Lancette, and JAMEZ (Journal of the American Medical Epistemic Zone).
“The man’s turning peer-reviewed science into a conspiracy-themed blog post,” muttered Dr. Felix Ramji, biostatistician and caffeine-dependent mammal.
“He thinks the journals are sock puppets,” said Dr. Ayaka Wong, the Institute’s genomics lead. “Actual quote. I mean, what even is that? Are we supposed to knit our own now?”
“By no means,” Felix responded. “Ayaka, he’s simply saying the journals have no spine, no voice, and no purpose, unless someone’s hand is shoved up their editorial board guiding what they say.”
A low groan passed through the room.
Dr. McKennon paced. “First he undermines vaccine safety data. Then he suggests stem cell tourism is a civil right. And now he wants us to publish only in ‘in-house’ government journals—whatever that means.”
Felix checked the Slack thread. “Apparently, it’s going to be called TruthRx Quarterly. They’re fast-tracking an editorial board made up of ‘credentialed truthers and clinical intuitives.’”
“Oh my God,” Ayaka said. “They’re building the Journal of Alternative Facts.”
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McKennon stopped pacing. “They’re trying to Lysenko the entire medical enterprise,” she said grimly. “You remember Trofim Lysenko? Soviet plant biologist. Denied Mendelian genetics. Ruined Soviet agriculture. Sent actual scientists to gulags.”
Ayaka sighed. “And we thought our biggest problem was impact factors.”
“They’re building the Journal of Alternative Facts,” she added.
“This is the same man,” McKennan added dryly, “whose Manipulating American Health Awareness (MAHA) report cited studies that don’t exist, misquoted ones that do, and may have been co-written by a blender full of wellness pamphlets and expired essential oils.”
Someone at the far end of the table muttered, “Didn’t Kenmore once say SSRIs were a government plot to keep Americans from discovering their inner qi?”
McKennon waved her hand. “Don’t feed the nonsense beast. The issue isn’t just his conspiracies. It’s that he now has institutional power.”
Felix nodded. “And he’s already called DHHS scientists ‘industry-vetted lapdogs’ and claimed we write the outcomes of our studies before we do the research.”
“And what about peer review?” Ayaka asked. “He wants to replace it with what, a vibes committee?”
Felix held up his phone. “There’s a pilot proposal to allow research preprints to be ‘peer-vetted’ by community feedback on WellnessNet, a new decentralized review system that includes wellness coaches, chiropractors, and a board-certified Reiki master named Janice.”
Silence.
“Who the hell is Janice?” McKennon finally asked.
“Apparently she once cured a migraine by waving a Himalayan salt lamp counterclockwise.”
Ayaka smacked her forehead. “We need to speak up. Loudly. Publicly. Before TruthRx becomes PubMed’s abusive cousin.”
“But won’t they just call us pharma shills?” asked Dr. Luis Calderón, quietly. “Some of the journals do have ties to industry. Didn’t pharma pay over $1 billion to reviewers at top medical journals between 2020 and 2022?”
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“Yes,” McKennon replied. “And some bridges have trolls. Doesn’t mean we stop crossing them. We reform the system. We don’t torch it and replace it with a scented candle and a podcast.”
Felix cleared his throat. “Speaking of which, Kenmore made the announcement on a podcast called The Ultimate Human. Half the episode was interrupted by ads for bowel-cleansing supplements and collagen gummies.”
“You’re kidding,” Ayaka said.
“I wish I were.”
McKennon took a breath, then stood straight. “I’m drafting a letter tonight. Open letter. Signed by government scientists from every corner of public health, saying we will not let our work be silenced or sequestered into fringe vanity publications.”
Felix raised his eyebrow. “You think the journals will support us?”
“They already are,” McKennon said. “Unofficially. I spoke to an editor at The Global Lancette. He said, and I quote, ‘We’re not a sock puppet. If anything, we’re a marionette with a scalpel.’”
Ayaka grinned. “Now that’s a T-shirt.”
Just then, a staffer poked his head in.
“Sorry to interrupt. There’s a protest forming outside. Some grad students with signs that say ‘Let the Nerds Speak’ and ‘Peer Review ≠ Pharma Cabal.’”
McKennon smiled. “Good. Then maybe people are paying attention.”
As they filed out to meet the crowd, Felix whispered, “You think he’ll really go through with the ban?”
McKennon paused. “He might. But the thing about science, it’s got this annoying habit of surviving censorship. Especially when the people doing it believe in evidence more than ego.”
Outside, chants had started.
“Facts not faith!”
“Science not silenced!”
“Justice for Janice!” one guy yelled, then quickly apologized.
McKennon laughed despite herself.
She looked at her colleagues, then toward the steps of the Capitol building across the street.
“Let’s get to work.”
