"They overwhelmed the military detachment there, put the city
administration to death, and blew open the shaft to the surface. About
a thousand people actually made it to the top. Within twenty-four hours
the city was dead--as the ringleaders had been warned would be the
outcome. The warning didn't deter them. Nor did it protect the prudent
citizens who had no part in the affair."
Hamelin leaned forward suddenly. "People won't wait to be told when
it's their turn to be re-educated. They'll be tired of waiting, tired
to the point of insanity of living at the bottom of a hole. They'll
just go.
"And that, gentlemen, will leave the world to the enemy ... or, more
likely, the rats. They alone are immune to everything by now."
There was a long silence. At last Carson said mildly: "Why aren't _we_
immune to everything by now?"
"Eh? Why--the new generations. They've never been exposed."
"We still have a reservoir of older people who lived through the war:
people who had one or several of the new diseases that swept the
world, some as many as five, and yet recovered. They still have their
immunities; we know; we've tested them. We know from sampling that no
new disease has been introduced by either side in over ten years now.
Against all the known ones, we have immunization techniques, anti-sera,
antibiotics, and so on. I suppose you get your shots every six months
like all the rest of us; we should all be very hard to infect now, and
such infections as do take should run mild courses." Carson held the
under-secretary's eyes grimly. "Now, answer me this question: why is it
that, despite all these protections, _every single person_ in an opened
city dies?"
"I don't know," Hamelin said, staring at each of them in turn. "By your
showing, some of them should recover."
"They should," Carson said. "But nobody does. Why? Because the very
nature of disease has changed since we all went underground. There are
now abroad in the world a number of mutated bacterial strains which can
bypass the immunity mechanisms of the human body altogether. What this
means in simple terms is that, should such a germ get into your body,
your body wouldn't recognize it as an invader. It would manufacture
no antibodies against the germ. Consequently, the germ could multiply
without any check, and--you would die. So would we all."
"I see," Hamelin said. He seemed to have recovered his composure
extraordinarily rapidly. "I am no scientist, gentlemen, but what you
tell me makes our position sound perfectly hopeless. Yet obviously you
have some answer."
Carson nodded. "We do. But it's important for you to understand the
situation, otherwise the answer will mean nothing to you. So: is it
perfectly clear to you now, from what we've said so far, that no amount
of re-educating a man's brain, be he soldier _or_ civilian, will allow
him to survive on the surface?"
"Quite clear," Hamelin said, apparently ungrudgingly. Carson's hopes
rose by a fraction of a millimeter. "But if you don't re-educate his
brain, what can you re-educate? His reflexes, perhaps?"
"No," Carson said. "His lymph nodes, and his spleen."
A scornful grin began to appear on Hamelin's thin lips. "You need
better public relations counsel than you've been getting," he said.
"If what you say is true--as of course I assume it is--then the term
're-educate' is not only inappropriate, it's downright misleading.
If you had chosen a less suggestive and more accurate label in the
beginning, I wouldn't have been able to cause you half the trouble I
have."
"I agree that we were badly advised there," Carson said. "But not
entirely for those reasons. Of course the name is misleading; that's
both a characteristic and a function of the names of top secret
projects. But in this instance, the name 'Re-Education', bad as it now
appears, subjected the men who chose it to a fatal temptation. You see,
though it is misleading, it is also entirely accurate."
"Word-games," Hamelin said.
"Not at all," Mudgett interposed. "We were going to spare you the
theoretical reasoning behind our project, Mr. Secretary, but now
you'll just have to sit still for it. The fact is that the body's
ability to distinguish between its own cells and those of some foreign
tissue--a skin graft, say, or a bacterial invasion of the blood--isn't
an inherited ability. It's a learned reaction. Furthermore, if you'll
think about it a moment, you'll see that it has to be. Body cells die,
too, and have to be disposed of; what would happen if removing those
dead cells provoked an antibody reaction, as the destruction of foreign
cells does? We'd die of anaphylactic shock while we were still infants.
"For that reason, the body has to learn how to scavenge selectively.
In human beings, that lesson isn't learned completely until about a
month after birth. During the intervening time, the newborn infant is
protected by antibodies that it gets from the colestrum, the 'first
milk' it gets from the breast during the three or four days immediately
after birth. It can't generate its own; it isn't allowed to, so to
speak, until it's learned the trick of cleaning up body residues
_without_ triggering the antibody mechanisms. Any dead cells marked
'personal' have to be dealt with some other way."
"That seems clear enough," Hamelin said. "But I don't see its
relevance."
"Well, we're in a position now where that differentiation between the
self and everything outside the body doesn't do us any good any more.
These mutated bacteria have been 'selfed' by the mutation. In other
words, some of their protein molecules, probably desoxyribonucleic acid
molecules, carry configurations or 'recognition-units' identical with
those of our body cells, so that the body can't tell one from another."
"But what has all this to do with re-education?"
"Just this," Carson said. "What we do here is to impose upon the cells
of the body--all of them--a new set of recognition-units for the
guidance of the lymph nodes and the spleen, which are the organs that
produce antibodies. The new units are highly complex, and the chances
of their being duplicated by bacterial evolution, even under forced
draught, are too small to worry about. That's what Re-Education is. In
a few moments, if you like, we'll show you just how it's done."
Hamelin ground out his fifth cigarette in Mudgett's ashtray and placed
the tips of his fingers together thoughtfully. Carson wondered just
how much of the concept of recognition-marking the under-secretary had
absorbed. It had to be admitted that he was astonishingly quick to
take hold of abstract ideas, but the self-marker theory of immunity
was--like everything else in immunology--almost impossible to explain
to laymen, no matter how intelligent.
"This process," Hamelin said hesitantly. "It takes a long time?"
"About six hours per subject, and we can handle only one man at a time.
That means that we can count on putting no more than seven thousand
troops into the field by the turn of the century. Every one will have
to be a highly trained specialist, if we're to bring the war to a quick
conclusion."
"Which means no civilians," Hamelin said. "I see. I'm not entirely
convinced, but--by all means let's see how it's done."
* * * * *
Once inside, the under-secretary tried his best to look everywhere at
once. The room cut into the rock was roughly two hundred feet high.
Most of it was occupied by the bulk of the Re-Education Monitor, a
mechanism as tall as a fifteen-storey building, and about a city block
square. Guards watched it on all sides, and the face of the machine
swarmed with technicians.
"Incredible," Hamelin murmured. "That enormous object can process only
one man at a time?"
"That's right," Mudgett said. "Luckily it doesn't have to treat all the
body cells directly. It works through the blood, re-selfing the cells
by means of small changes in the serum chemistry."
"What kind of changes?"
"Well," Carson said, choosing each word carefully, "that's more or
less a graveyard secret, Mr. Secretary. We can tell you this much: the
machine uses a vast array of crystalline, complex sugars which _behave_
rather like the blood group-and-type proteins. They're fed into the
serum in minute amounts, under feedback control of second-by-second
analysis of the blood. The computations involved in deciding upon the
amount and the precise nature of each introduced chemical are highly
complex. Hence the size of the machine. It is, in its major effect, an
artificial kidney."
"I've seen artificial kidneys in the hospitals," Hamelin said,
frowning. "They're rather compact affairs."
"Because all they do is remove waste products from the patient's
blood, and restore the fluid and electrolyte balance. Those are very
minor renal functions in the higher mammals. The organ's main duty is
chemical control of immunity. If Burnet and Fenner had known that back
in 1949, when the selfing theory was being formulated, we'd have had
Re-Education long before now."
"Most of the machine's size is due to the computation section," Mudgett
emphasized. "In the body, the brain-stem does those computations, as
part of maintaining homeostasis. But we can't reach the brain-stem from
outside; it's not under conscious control. Once the body is re-selfed,
it will re-train the thalamus where we can't." Suddenly, two swinging
doors at the base of the machine were pushed apart and a mobile
operating table came through, guided by two attendants. There was a
form on it, covered to the chin with a sheet. The face above the sheet
was immobile and almost as white.
Hamelin watched the table go out of the huge cavern with visibly mixed
emotions. He said: "This process--it's painful?"
"No, not exactly," Carson said. The motive behind the question
interested him hugely, but he didn't dare show it. "But any fooling
around with the immunity mechanisms can give rise to symptoms--fever,
general malaise, and so on. We try to protect our subjects by giving
them a light shock anesthesia first."
"Shock?" Hamelin repeated. "You mean electroshock? I don't see how--"
"Call it stress anesthesia instead. We give the man a steroid drug that
counterfeits the anesthesia the body itself produces in moments of
great stress--on the battlefield, say, or just after a serious injury.
It's fast, and free of after-effects. There's no secret about that,
by the way; the drug involved is 21-hydroxypregnane-3,20 dione sodium
succinate, and it dates all the way back to 1955."
"Oh," the under-secretary said. The ringing sound of the chemical name
had had, as Carson had hoped, a ritually soothing effect.
"Gentlemen," Hamelin said hesitantly. "Gentlemen, I have a--a rather
unusual request. And, I am afraid, a rather selfish one." A brief,
nervous laugh. "Selfish in both senses, if you will pardon me the pun.
You need feel no hesitation in refusing me, but...."
Abruptly he appeared to find it impossible to go on. Carson mentally
crossed his fingers and plunged in.
"You would like to undergo the process yourself?" he said.
"Well, yes. Yes, that's exactly it. Does that seem inconsistent? I
should know, should I not, what it is that I'm advocating for my
following? Know it intimately, from personal experience, not just
theory? Of course I realize that it would conflict with your policy,
but I assure you I wouldn't turn it to any political advantage--none
whatsoever. And perhaps it wouldn't be too great a lapse of policy to
process just one civilian among your seven thousand soldiers."
Subverted, by God! Carson looked at Mudgett with a firmly straight
face. It wouldn't do to accept too quickly.
But Hamelin was rushing on, almost chattering now. "I can understand
your hesitation. You must feel that I'm trying to gain some advantage,
or even to get to the surface ahead of my fellow-men. If it will set
your minds at rest, I would be glad to enlist in your advance army.
Before five years are up, I could surely learn some technical skill
which would make me useful to the expedition. If you would prepare
papers to that effect, I'd be happy to sign them."
"That's hardly necessary," Mudgett said. "After you're Re-Educated, we
can simply announce the fact, and say that you've agreed to join the
advance party when the time comes."
"Ah," Hamelin said. "I see the difficulty. No, that would make my
position quite impossible. If there is no other way--"
"Excuse us a moment," Carson said. Hamelin bowed, and the doctor pulled
Mudgett off out of ear-shot.
"Don't overplay it," he murmured. "You're tipping our hand with that
talk about a press release, Colonel. He's offering us a bribe--but he's
plenty smart enough to see that the price you're suggesting is that of
his whole political career. He won't pay that much."
"What then?" Mudgett whispered hoarsely.
"Get somebody to prepare the kind of informal contract he suggested.
Offer to put it under security seal so we won't be able to show it
to the press at all. He'll know well enough that such a seal can be
broken if our policy ever comes before a presidential review--and that
will restrain him from forcing such a review. Let's not demand too
much. Once he's been re-educated, he'll have to live the rest of the
five years with the knowledge that he _can_ live topside any time he
wants to try it--and he hasn't had the discipline our men have had.
It's my bet that he'll goof off before the five years are up--and good
riddance."
They went back to Hamelin, who was watching the machine and humming in
a painfully abstracted manner.
"I've convinced the Colonel," Carson said, "that your services in the
army might well be very valuable when the time comes, Mr. Secretary. If
you'll sign up, we'll put the papers under security seal for your own
protection, and then I think we can fit you into our treatment program
today."
"I'm grateful to you, Dr. Carson," Hamelin said. "Very grateful,
indeed."
* * * * *
Five minutes after his injection, Hamelin was as peaceful as a flounder
and was rolled through the swinging doors. An hour's discussion of the
probable outcome, carried on in the privacy of Mudgett's office, bore
very little additional fruit, however.
"It's our only course," Carson said. "It's what we hoped to gain from
his visit, duly modified by circumstances. It all comes down to this:
Hamelin's compromised himself, and he knows it."
"But," Mudgett said, "suppose he was right? What about all that talk of
his about mass insanity?"
"I'm sure it's true," Carson said, his voice trembling slightly despite
his best efforts at control. "It's going to be rougher than ever down
here for the next five years, Colonel. Our only consolation is that the
enemy must have exactly the same problem; and if we can beat them to
the surface--"
"_Hsst!_" Mudgett said. Carson had already broken off his sentence. He
wondered why the scanner gave a man such a hard time outside that door,
and then admitted him without any warning to the people on the other
side. Couldn't the damned thing be trained to knock?
The newcomer was a page from the haemotology section. "Here's the
preliminary rundown on your 'Student X', Dr. Carson," he said.
The page saluted Mudgett and went out. Carson began to read. After a
moment, he also began to sweat.
"Colonel, look at this. I was wrong after all. Disastrously wrong. I
haven't seen a blood-type distribution pattern like Hamelin's since I
was a medical student, and even back then it was only a demonstration,
not a real live patient. Look at it from the genetic point of view--the
migration factors."
He passed the protocol across the desk. Mudgett was not by background
a scientist, but he was an enormously able administrator, of the breed
that makes it its business to know the technicalities on which any
project ultimately rests. He was not much more than half-way through
the tally before his eyebrows were gaining altitude like shock-waves.
"Carson, we can't let that man into the machine! He's--"
"He's already in it, Colonel, you know that. And if we interrupt the
process before it runs to term, we'll kill him."
"Let's kill him, then," Mudgett said harshly. "Say he died while being
processed. Do the country a favor."
"That would produce a hell of a stink. Besides, we have no proof."
Mudgett flourished the protocol excitedly.
"That's not proof to anyone but a haemotologist."
"But Carson, the man's a saboteur!" Mudgett shouted. "Nobody but an
Asiatic could have a typing pattern like this! And he's no melting-pot
product, either--he's a classical mixture, very probably a Georgian.
And every move he's made since we first heard of him has been aimed
directly at us--aimed directly at tricking us into getting him into the
machine!"
"I think so too," Carson said grimly. "I just hope the enemy hasn't
many more agents as brilliant."
"One's enough," Mudgett said. "He's sure to be loaded to the last cc of
his blood with catalyst poisons. Once the machine starts processing
his serum, we're done for--it'll take us years to re-program the
computer, if it can be done at all. It's _got_ to be stopped!"
"Stopped?" Carson said, astonished. "But it's already stopped. That's
not what worries me. The machine stopped it fifty minutes ago."
"It can't have! How could it? It has no relevant data!"
"Sure it has." Carson leaned forward, took the cruelly chewed pencil
away from Mudgett, and made a neat check beside one of the entries on
the protocol. Mudgett stared at the checked item.
"Platelets Rh VI?" he mumbled. "But what's that got to do with.... Oh.
Oh, I see. That platelet type doesn't exist at all in our population
now, does it? Never seen it before myself, at least."
"No," Carson said, grinning wolfishly. "It never was common in the
West, and the pogrom of 1981 wiped it out. That's something the enemy
couldn't know. But the machine knows it. As soon as it gives him the
standard anti-IV desensitization shot, his platelets will begin to
dissolve--and he'll be rejected for incipient thrombocytopenia." He
laughed. "For his own protection! But--"
"But he's getting nitrous oxide in the machine, and he'll be held six
hours under anesthesia anyhow--also for his own protection," Mudgett
broke in. He was grinning back at Carson like an idiot. "When he comes
out from under, he'll assume that he's been re-educated, and he'll beat
it back to the enemy to report that he's poisoned our machine, so
that they can be sure they'll beat us to the surface. And he'll go the
fastest way: _overland_."
"He will," Carson agreed. "Of course he'll go overland, and of course
he'll die. But where does that leave us? We won't be able to conceal
that he was treated here, if there's any sort of an inquiry at all. And
his death will make everything we do here look like a fraud. Instead
of paying our Pied Piper--and great jumping Jehosophat, look at his
name! They were rubbing our noses in it all the time! Nevertheless, we
didn't pay the piper; we killed him. And 'platelets Rh VI' won't be an
adequate excuse for the press, or for Hamelin's following."
"It doesn't worry me," Mudgett rumbled. "Who'll know? He won't die in
our labs. He'll leave here hale and hearty. He won't die until he makes
a break for the surface. After that we can compose a fine obituary
for the press. Heroic government official, on the highest policy
level--couldn't wait to lead his followers to the surface--died of
being too much in a hurry--Re-Ed Project sorrowfully reminds everyone
that no technique is fool-proof--"
Mudgett paused long enough to light a cigarette, which was a most
singular action for a man who never smoked. "As a matter of fact,
Carson," he said, "it's a natural."
Carson considered it. It seemed to hold up. And 'Hamelin' would have a
death certificate as complex as he deserved--not officially, of course,
but in the minds of everyone who knew the facts. His death, when it
came, would be due directly to the thrombocytopenia which had caused
the Re-Ed machine to reject him--and thrombocytopenia is a disease of
infants. _Unless ye become as little children...._
That was a fitting reason for rejection from the new kingdom of Earth:
anemia of the newborn.
His pent breath went out of him in a long sigh. He hadn't been aware
that he'd been holding it. "It's true," he said softly. "That's the
time to pay the piper."
"When?" Mudgett said.
"When?" Carson said, surprised. "Why, _before_ he takes the children
away."