He cleared his throat. "...the Summer Seminar. Title: The Propogation of
White Martian virus. Paragraph. It will be remembered that the early
attempts to establish Earth colonies on Mars were frustrated by the
extreme susceptibility of our people to two viruses native to the
foreign planet, viruses which we designate as Blue Martian and White
Martian, according to the two distinct types of fever which they cause.
Blue Martian Fever in the early days caused a mortality among our
colonists of nearly eighty-five per cent, and made the establishment of
permanent colonies a virtual impossibility.
"Under the inspired leadership of Leader Marley and with the advice of
his deputy Dr. Lanza, this laboratory in Research worked out a method of
growing the virus and producing an immunizing agent which is effective
in nearly all human beings. Only the cooperation of several Categories
made possible such a feat. It will not be forgotten that even the
humblest helpers in the Institute had their share in the project, that
some of them acted as human volunteers in the experiments, well knowing
the risks they ran, and were afterward rewarded by a Free Choice.
"One person in Office Category, for instance, was given the privilege of
learning to play the flute, although nobody in his family had ever
belonged to Music, and another person in Menial Category was permitted a
month's study of elementary algebra, a nearly unheard of indulgence for
a person in his position. But as Leader Marley so graciously remarked in
conferring the awards: To the individual who risks much, the State gives
much."
"Like me and Tanya?" the girl asked, stopping her typing.
"Yes, like you and Tanya. You were allowed to act a part in an amateur
Theater group, I remember, and since Tanya was made too ill to be able
to use a Free Choice, she was sent out west to the Playground, just as
though she had belonged to Ruler Category. Now where was I?"
"'The State gives much.'"
"Oh, yes. Paragraph. Since the discovery of the immunizing mechanism to
Blue Martian, permanent colonies have been established on Mars. But
there remains the more elusive problem of White Martian Fever, which,
though its mortality is only thirty per cent, is still so crippling to
those victims who survive that the Martian colonies cannot begin to
expand, and the resources of the planet cannot be fully developed, until
an immunizing agent is found.
"For the past eight years this laboratory has been working at the
problem, among others, and we are now in a position to report a small
degree of progress. Since it proved to be impossible to grow the virus
in the usual media, it occurred to us--"
The intercom buzzed, and Dr. Wong turned away to open the dial.
"David? What's happened to you? I've been waiting here in the lab a
quarter of an hour."
"Sorry, Karl. I thought I had more time. Be right down."
He reached for his white lab coat and shoved his long arms into the
starched sleeves. "That's all we have time for now, Leah. Can you get an
early lunch and be back here this afternoon at two?"
But she was not listening. She was leaning over to look at the desk,
staring avidly at the open pages of Dr. Wong's notebook. Without comment
he picked up the book, closed it, put it in the top drawer and locked
the drawer. She watched him with curious eyes.
"What funny marks those were, Dr. Wong! Do you keep your notes in a
private system of shorthand?"
"No. I write them in Coptic. For the sake of privacy."
"What's Coptic?"
"A dead language, spoken by the ancient Egyptians thirty or forty
centuries ago."
"But you're Research, not Linguistics! It's against the law for you to
know other languages. Are you a traitor?"
"My dear Leah," he said, "I'm far too sensible a man to go in for
bootleg study, to learn anything without permission. I have no wish to
end up with a pick-ax in my hands. But you shouldn't tax your little
mind with thinking. It's not your job. You're not equipped for it, and
it's dangerous."
* * * * *
David passed the watchguard stationed in the basement corridor, walked
through the open door of the laboratory, past the bench where a row of
pretty technicians sat making serial dilutions of bacterial and virus
suspensions, through the glow of the sterilizing room, and on into the
small inner lab where flasks of culture media and developing hens' eggs
sat in a transparent incubator, and petri dishes flecked with spots of
color awaited his inspection.
Dr. Karl Haslam was standing at the work bench, with a pair of silver
forceps which held a small egg under the psi light. Gently he lowered
the egg into its warm observation chamber, covered the container, and
sat down.
"Well, here I am. What's gone wrong? Explain yourself, my boy."
"Just a minute." Grinning maliciously, David took down a bottle from the
shelf of chemicals, poured a colorless liquid into a beaker, and walked
casually toward the doorway as he agitated the mixture of hydrogen
sulphide and mercaptans. He held his breath, then coughed, when the
fumes of putrescence filled the room and drifted out the door. He looked
into the technician's room.
"Sorry for the aroma, girls, but this is a vital experiment."
"Can't you at least shut the door?" one called pleadingly.
"Explain to the watchguard out there, will you?" Closing the door, he
turned on the ventilator and sat down beside Dr. Haslam.
"Why all the melodrama?" Karl asked, baffled. "First you call me by
emergency code, then you hole in like a conspirator. I'm beginning to
think you're a great loss to Theater. What's happened? Why is it later
than I think?"
"Do you take everything as a joke, Karl?"
"Certainly, until I'm forced to do otherwise. What's worrying you?"
"I'm afraid of being arrested for treason. Don't laugh! This morning I
received a message, delivered in person by our old schoolmate Lanza, to
report to Leader Marley on Wednesday, and Marley hasn't paid any
attention to me since he last inspected our lab, years ago. For another
thing, Leah Hachovnik is making a nuisance of herself with her curiosity
about my affairs. If she weren't so clumsy about her prying, I'd almost
believe she was under orders to spy on me."
Karl moved impatiently. "I hope you're not turning psychotic. You have a
clean record of continuous production and you've never mixed in
politics. You've never expressed what you may really think of our Leader
even to me, although we've been friends since we were in Medschool, and
I hope you never will. And you're making progress with White Martian.
Why, my boy, you're all set! What's treasonable about that?"
Someone knocked at the door. Hastily David uncovered the fragrant beaker
and waved it about as he called, "Come in!"
The watchguard looked in for an instant, wrinkled his nose, and quickly
shut the door. Laughing, David covered the beaker, and began walking
about with long nervous strides, snapping his fingers as he tried to
explain.
"I'm in trouble, Karl. I've run into something I don't know how to deal
with, and I need help, I need advice, I need cooperation. I've lived
alone with this thing for ten long years, hoping month after month that
something would turn up so I could evade the issue. But nothing has. And
now there's going to be a showdown."