She secured a small beaker and a tapered graduate from the glassware
cabinet and set them before him. He poured 50 cc into the graduated
measure and transferred it to the beaker.
[Illustration]
"What do they call it?" he asked.
"Sulfa-tetradine," she replied. "One of a series Peterson was testing.
There is no physiological data on it yet. All he knows is that it
inhibited the virus in culture. So they tried it on the monkeys."
Murt raised the beaker to his lips. It was against every sensible tenet
of scientific procedure. He was amazed that Phyllis was silent as he
swallowed the bland, chalky fluid. He heard a clink. Turning, he saw her
raising the graduate to her lips. In it was a like quantity of
sulfa-tetradine.
"What are you doing?" he half-shouted. "We don't need a test-control!"
"I'm not a control," she said softly, touching her lips with a scrap of
gauze. "I've had the virus for months."