The newspapers had a field day with Raymond's unwilling revelation.
Even the traditionally sedate _Times_ devoted six of its eight columns
to a banner headline about it, and a story which began,
_Public faith in the Beller reanimation process was seriously shaken
today by the surprising revelation that reanimation sometimes produces
a mentally deficient individual._
_Dr. Martin Raymond, head of the Beller research organization, made the
statement in New York at the opening session of Senate reanimation
hearings. He declared that seven out of seventy-three experimental
reanimations had produced "mindless beings." In four other instances,
neither body nor mind was successfully recalled to life._
In the other papers, it was even worse. The _Star-Post_, which had been
growing more sympathetic each day, demanded atop its editorial column,
WHY HAVE THEY BEEN HIDING THIS? The Hearst papers, which had
_never_ been sympathetic to the cause of reanimation, grew almost
apoplectic now; their key slogan was the label, "The Zombie-Makers,"
which they used in reference to the Beller researchers not only in the
editorial (a vitriolic one) but even in several of the news columns.
At the Litchfield headquarters, the flood of abusive mail threatened to
overpower the local post-master. It was impossible to read it all, and
after Harker picked up a scrawled letter that threatened assassination
for him and his entire family unless reanimation experiments ceased,
he decided to read none of it at all. They stored it in one of the
supply-buildings in back, and Harker gave orders that any overflow was
to be destroyed unread.
On the second day of the hearing, a few new faces were in the
auditorium. They were faces Harker did not enjoy seeing. They
belonged to Cal Mitchison and David Klaus, and with them was their
lawyer, Gerhardt.
With Senator Thurman still not found, Brewster presided at the second
session--a heavy-set, slow-moving man with the ponderously tenacious
mind that went with those physical characteristics. With the opening
formalities out of the way, Brewster said, "We would like to hear from
Dr. David Klaus, formerly of the Beller Research Laboratories."
Harker was on his feet immediately. "Senator Brewster, I'd like to
enter an objection. This man is the principal in a lawsuit pending
against our laboratory. Anything he says in his favor this morning may
be prejudicial to us in the lawsuit."
Brewster shook his head slowly. "This is not a court of law, Mr.
Harker. We are interested in hearing Dr. Klaus' statements. You will
have ample time to refute them later, if you wish."
Harker subsided. Brewster looked at Klaus, who stood with his
hands knotted nervously together, a thin, slab-jawed scrawny
bright-young-scientific-prodigy type. "Dr. Klaus, you were formerly
employed by the Beller Laboratories, were you not? Would you mind
telling us why your employment there was terminated?"
Stammering as usual, Klaus said, "I was discharged by order of James
Harker shortly after he came to work there. It was a purely malicious
act."
Harker fumed, but Brewster waved imperiously at him to keep him quiet.
The Senator said, "Please keep personal differences out of this, Dr.
Klaus. How long were you employed at the laboratories?"
"Three years. I was in charge of enzyme research."
"I see. And you were aware that the reanimation experiments were
occasionally producing--ah--idiots?"
"Yes, sir. We all were aware of that."
"Were attempts being made to safeguard against this unfortunate result,
Dr. Klaus?"
Klaus nodded. "My department was working on a chemical method of
insuring full recovery of mental powers. I don't know what's been done
since my dismissal."
"He's lying!" Raymond shouted. "His group never had anything to do
with--"
"Please, Mr. Raymond," Brewster said fiercely. "Your outburst is
uncalled-for."
To Klaus he said, "Do you feel that this hazard of the reanimation
process can be overcome in the course of further research?"
"Definitely. But the present management of the laboratories is heading
in the wrong direction. They've rejected my ideas--which were close to
being perfected--and instead chose to suppress the whole affair."
Harker felt his pulse mounting. Klaus seemed icily calm up there,
speaking now with cold precision--most unusual for him. He sounded as
if he had rehearsed this speech all morning.
Brewster said, "It would seem to me that the directors of the Beller
Laboratories were guilty of an act of bad faith. Wouldn't you agree,
Dr. Klaus?"
"Definitely, sir."
"Thank you. We would like to hear from Mr. James Harker, now."
Moistening his lips, Harker rose and took his place in the spotlight.
Brewster gave place to Dixon, for which Harker was thankful; the
American-Conservative Senators had a way of conducting hearings as if
they were representatives of the Spanish Inquisition.
Dixon said, "Would you tell us how you became affiliated with the
Beller outfit, Mr. Harker?"
"I was approached by Dr. Lurie of Beller," Harker said. "I had retired
to private law practice after conclusion of my term as Governor of
New York State. Dr. Lurie requested me to handle the legal aspects of
reanimation."
"Ah. How long have you been connected with Beller, then?"
"Dr. Lurie first approached me on May 8. Roughly three weeks ago,
Senator Dixon."
"And you have acted as spokesman for the laboratory since May 8?"
"No sir. My first public statement for Beller appeared on May 20. It
was occasioned by the premature and unauthorized release of information
to the public by Dr. Klaus and our then public-relations agent, Mr.
Mitchison. This was the act of insubordination for which they were
dismissed from the laboratory."
"You infer that the first public announcement of the Beller reanimation
experiments was made without your consent or knowledge?"
"That's right, sir."
"Why did you intend to maintain continued secrecy?"
"The process was not quite perfect, sir. A few more weeks of work and
we could have eliminated the possibility of mental loss. It was my plan
not to bring the matter to the public notice until then--but Dr. Klaus
took it upon himself to inform the world without my knowledge."
Harker glanced at Brewster and Vorys. They were frowning; perhaps he
had gotten through to them. He wondered if his words would counteract
the tide of unfavorable reactions already swelling.
Dixon said, "Could you tell us how close you are to actual elimination
of the hazard of insanity?"
"Sorry, I can't. That would be Dr. Raymond's province. But I will say
that research at our laboratory has virtually ceased during this period
of uncertainty."
There was a whispered conference at the dais, and abruptly Vorys
replaced Dixon as interrogator.
"Mr. Harker, does the name Wayne Janson mean anything to you?"
Brewster and Vorys had evidently primed themselves well for the attack.
Harker said, "Yes, Senator Vorys. Janson was an industrialist who
committed suicide last week."
"It means nothing else to you?"
"No."
"No one of that name underwent reanimation at the Beller Laboratories?"
"No, sir."
Vorys paused momentarily. "The late Mr. Janson was supposed to have
undergone reanimation several months before your employment at Beller.
Is it possible that he _did_ experience treatment there, and that you
don't know about it?"
"I've examined the list of patients at Beller since the beginning of
experiments there. No one named Janson is on the list."
"Perhaps he entered under another name."
"We have photographs of all patients, Senator. None of them
corresponded to the photo of Mr. Janson published in the newspapers."
"In other words, you deny that he was ever a patient of the
laboratories?"
"Exactly."
"But a close friend of the late Mr. Janson claims that he _did_
secretly enter the Beller laboratories of his own free will shortly
before his death of natural causes, was reanimated, and suffered such
mental disturbance afterward that he took his own life."
Harker said quietly, "It's obvious that one party is lying, isn't it?
Our records indicate that no such person ever entered the labs for
treatment. The burden of proof, I believe, rests with the other party."
"We have only your word for this," Vorys went on obstinately. "And you
are not even under oath. Will you make these records of yours available
for public inspection?"
"It would be against our policy."
"We could subpoena the records," Vorys warned.
Harker shrugged. "That's within your rights, of course, I admit. But
exposure of the names of our patients would probably have adverse
effects on them, pathologically and otherwise."
"That sounds very good, Mr. Harker. But it could also be an excuse for
hiding something."
Resisting the impulse to lose his temper--for Vorys was obviously
deliberately baiting him--Harker said, "I believe it would be possible
to grant you and your three colleagues access to our records, to prove
the fraudulent nature of the Janson matter. But public exposure of the
names would not be necessary, would it?"
"Quite possibly not. Thank you, Mr. Harker. We will recess for one hour
now."
As soon as Harker had left the stand, Mart Raymond approached him and
said, "Things are getting rough, eh?"
Harker nodded. "Vorys and Brewster are out for our scalps. The
American-Conservatives must be preparing to come down hard."
"I'm sorry about letting that statistic slip yesterday, Jim--"
"Forget it. It had to come out sooner or later, and maybe if we had
announced it at the start we wouldn't be having so much trouble now.
Well, it couldn't be helped. Let's go get some lunch."
As they rode downward in the gravshaft toward the hotel dining room,
Harker said, "Exactly how close _are_ you to getting the bugs out of
the process?"
Raymond looked vague. "A week, a month, maybe a year. We know what
causes the mental breakdown--most of the time. It's a matter of hormone
impurity, generally. Of course, in some cases the brain suffers severe
damage in the process of dying, and we'll never be able to lick that
any more than we can revive a man who's been blown apart by dynamite.
But I'm pretty sure we can lick the defects in our own system soon."
"And what probability of success would you predict after that?"
Raymond shrugged and said, "Who knows? Nine out of ten successes?
Ninety-seven out of a hundred? Until we have ten or twenty thousand
case histories behind us, our statistics don't mean a hoot."
Harker nodded thoughtfully. The meal was a quiet one; neither man said
much. Harker was going back over the morning's session, trying to pick
out the phrases the press would leap on.
He hoped he had discredited the Mitchison-Klaus combine and Bryant by
his refutation. Surely the public would see that Mitchison and Klaus
were vengeful power-seekers and nothing more, and that the whole Janson
affair was nothing but a malicious hoax.
But he overestimated the public's ability to distinguish truth from
slung mud, it seemed. The early afternoon papers were already on sale
by the time the hearing resumed for the afternoon.
The headline on the _Star-Post_ was, KLAUS SAYS HARKER FIRED HIM;
CHARGES BELLER 'BAD FAITH.'
The story, slanted heavily in Klaus' direction, implied that the
enzyme man had been on the verge of a brilliant discovery when Harker
maliciously sacked him. As for the Janson case, it referred to Harker's
"uncomfortable evasions."
The tide was turning. The public fancy had seized on the one fact,
grotesque and horrifying enough, that in a few cases reanimation
resulted in dreadful mindlessness. On that slim base, a massive
movement aimed at the total suppression of reanimation was beginning to
take form and grow in strength.
Harker had seen the phenomenon before, and had been helpless before it.
The great insane raging tide of public opinion had sprung up from what
had been a smoothly-flowing stream, and once its mighty power had been
channelled toward a definite end, there was no standing against it.
He had the uncomfortable feeling that only a miracle could save things,
now. And miracles were not easy to come by, in this secular age.