There appears to be more discussion on the other end, and then someone wants him to describe the dimensions of his little spaceship.

"It's slightly larger than a sedan. I don't see how that's medically relevant, though."

Apparently, his comment about spooking the government with the thing weren't completely off the mark. They had eyewitness reports of the thing from a group of birders who were out late watching for owls and other birds, and wanted confirmation that he was the person who had done that--if they had described the thing, he could have said "yes" regardless of reality. Having established something a bit better than hearsay, they would be happy for him to come down in his spaceship.

"Cool. Where are you at?"

They name an address.

Cam has old map data in his capacious little computer. "Great. I'll be there in fifteen to twenty minutes."

They are looking forward to seeing him!

Cam bids local medical persons goodbye, goes out, gets in his little spaceship, and goes where he was invited.

It is a medical laboratory. They do not attempt to betray him and strap him to a table for vivisection.

A friendly intern who is fond of science fiction, apparently. Not that all of the real scientists aren't participating too, especially once he starts producing real results for them to geek out over.

Cam sighs, and gives the intern an overview, and cures her acne for her, and as soon as he has specialists and the people who know how to get drugs FDA-approved on hand he gets into the meat of the project.

The intern is mostly to interface with him so that the scientists don't scare him off with their jargon. She is there to be helpful, not obstructive. Everyone wants cancer cures from the guy with the spaceship. The Martians' medical technology is, disappointingly, mostly incompatible with human biology.

Well, all of Cam's tech is intended for humans. And he knows his jargon, albeit rather futuristic jargon. He spent longer in med school than any of these people, demons don't feel the need to rush graduates out the door in a hurry so they can start paying back their student loans.

True, but they didn't know that before he showed up. The intern is swiftly relegated to the role of gofer.

And Cam has so much to show these distinguished scientists! In between the fourth cancer cure and the antivirals - "Sit on those formulae until you need them, obviously, no sense teaching the viruses any faster than you have to" - he mentions that he's probably going to make similar excursions to every country that speaks a language he knows, which is a lot of them, and that anyone wrapping any of this in IP laws rather than getting it out the door as quickly as possible will very much annoy him. He does not suspect the people at this acronymous organization of such things but imagines they know people who might be so inclined.

They will, possibly, suggest that he visit certain countries sooner than others. Couched in terms like "efficiency" and "distribution capability" rather than "foreign policy," of course.

"I want to give them vaccines, not nukes," Cam says dryly. "But obviously I will not be giving out drugs to people who don't know what to do with them except insofar as I can clearly explain."

Well, they're not admitting anything, but inasfar as they're attempting to influence him, it's in a "help the people the US likes" kind of way, not a "hurt the people the US doesn't like" kind of way.

Cam decides not to even acknowledge the nudges going forward. More cures for cancer! These only work on extremely specific kinds and they have side effects but they are better than what's on the market today.

Cures for cancer. Much better than halfhearted political gestures pushed on them by superiors.

This could take all day. More than, even, although Cam's going as fast as he can, conjuring up books for them to read on their own time when he encounters topics it would be time-consuming to give full depth to. At one point he switches to appearing marker on a whiteboard and erasing/replacing occasionally while he eats a turkey club he conjures up for lunch. Here is a deworming treatment. Here's something for radiation poisoning. Nerve damage. Chronic fatigue. Here's the acne thing he gave the intern. Anti-inflammatory. Designs for equipment useful for laprascopic surgeries. Antidepressants. 2159 standard of care for premature babies, minus the part where you're supposed to summon an angel. Fistulas and heart disease and osteoporosis and diabetes and ingrown toenails and polycystic ovaries and really, really good birth control.

Cam assures the scientist that Planned Parenthood et al will also know all about the birth control, but he certainly hopes that in light of the fact that everything he's describing has been tested thoroughly in another universe the FDA won't drag its heels.