The Call-Girls (20 page)

‘What do you mean by “biological methods”?' shouted
Halder. ‘Valenti's needles? Librium in the tap-water? Tampering with the chromosomes?'

Solovief gave him a cold stare. His shaggy brows seemed to bristle: ‘Not exactly that, but something on those lines. I am aware that it sounds frightening, but we should be even more frightened of doing nothing and letting predictable events take their course.'

Blood asked in an unusually quiet voice: ‘Would you put anti-fertility agents into the water supply of the Indians?'

Solovief made a visible effort to break down some inner resistance before he answered.

‘I would.'

‘I am with you there,' snapped Burch. John D. John seconded: ‘So am I.' The others were silent. Claire was reminded of that old soldier's quip: ‘With my enemies I can cope, but God preserve me from my allies.'

Blood said, reverting to his usual manner: ‘It's all right with
me.
I hate brats anyway.'

Wyndham turned to Niko. He did not giggle or titter; even the dimples seemed to have vanished:

‘Do you suggest including this in the recommendations of the conference? In that case, I am sorry to say, you would have to count me out.'

‘I do,' Niko said slowly, ‘with some essential qualifications. All governments should be invited to make a last, all-out effort to stop the explosion by appeals to voluntary birth-control. If the appeals fail – as they have before and no doubt will again – they should be asked to impose nonvoluntary controls to prevent the catastrophe. I mean
all
nations, regardless of their birth-rate, as a gesture of solidarity. Experts should be appointed to work out a plan for moratoriums on birth, for fixed periods at fixed intervals, until the explosion is brought under control. After that one could revert to voluntary control for a trial period, perhaps with better results.'

‘Or the opposite,' said Harriet. ‘After the moratorium, everybody will be mad for babies.'

‘Could be. In that case, the periods of enforced infertility – call
them Lent-years – would have to be imposed as a more or less permanent feature of human existence – a sort of social calendar to complement the biological calendar imposed by nature.'

‘And the unborn millions will be grateful to us for being spared death by starvation,' said Blood; it was impossible to decide whether he meant it ironically or in earnest.

‘I don't know about that,' said Niko. ‘But has any expert, aware of the situation, proposed an alternative?'

‘No!' shouted Halder. ‘And you know why? Because anthropologists and sociologists have respect for human rights and human freedom. You are a physicist, accustomed to smashing atoms.'

Niko shrugged. He thought that Otto von Halder as a champion of freedom was a good illustration of what Valenti called schizophysiology. But Valenti himself had been oddly silent during the discussion. Then a possible reason for this occurred to Niko, and he smiled: it was an even better illustration…

He squared his shoulders and proceeded to the next point in his notes, which he knew would be even more difficult to put across. Already on the less dangerous subject of imposed fertility-control his old friend Wyndham had ratted on him, and Harriet had been unusually non-committal. Now he had to handle real dynamite: the problem of imposing aggressivity-controls … He had no hope of persuading them; but he had to go through with it. He took up the thread where Valenti had left off with his remarks about biochemical controls. It was not a problem to be left to the future, because such means of control were already in existence …

‘The accumulation of knowledge cannot be stopped, and as man's understanding of his brain increases, new techniques of controlling its functions will be developed at an accelerating pace. The question is no longer whether we like it or not, but how to make the best use of this development with its unlimited possibilities. Nerve gases and hallucinogenic agents to induce mass psychosis are already in existence. Yet any suggestion of putting this new alchemy to
benevolent uses is received with horrified outcries and accusations of tampering with human nature. The same outcry greeted Jenner when he introduced vaccination against small-pox…'

‘By all means tamper with bacilli, but not with this – not with this!' grunted Blood, hammering his skull with his fist.

Niko copied his gesture. ‘But
this
is precisely where our troubles reside. This is where evolution slipped up.'

‘And
this
,' said Valenti, who had regained his smiling composure, pointing at the region of the thyroid gland in his neck, ‘is where the tendency to cretinism and goitre resides. So the authorities fortify your table salt with iodine without asking your permission.'

‘I maintain,' said Wyndham, ‘that these are false analogies. Curing or preventing disease is one thing, interference with the mind – if Burch will pardon my expression – is quite another.'

‘But what if the disease is endemic in the mind of the species? I thought that was our point of departure.' Solovief abruptly squashed his cigar in the ashtray. ‘May I remind you that this is not a discussion of an abstract, academic subject – read today's newspaper headlines, for God's sake.' He was almost shouting.

‘Emotionalism won't get us anywhere,' Halder remarked with judicious glee.

‘Rot,' said Harriet. ‘What Niko and Valenti are saying is that emotionalism is all to the good so long as it is in harmony with reason. But they say that there is a fault in the circuitry
here
' – tapping one's skull seemed to have become infectious – ‘which puts emotion at loggerheads with reason…'

‘So you will put some hormones or enzymes into the tap-water and we shall all become like lambs – castrated lambs…'

‘Contrariwise,' remarked Blood, ‘we might become Centaurs – creatures in which the wisdom of a Greek sage is married to a steed's passion.'

The vision of Blood transformed into a stallion made Niko relax.

‘It seems,' he said, ‘that Halder's emotional references to the tap-water are a modern version of the archetypal well-poisoning scare. Valenti reminded us that we would have succumbed to epidemics long ago if we had not put chlorine and other stuffs into it. At the same time, we have most effectively polluted our rivers and lakes with mercury, sulphur, cadmium, DDT, and other poisons. But mention the possibility of adding a benevolent ingredient to the list – not a tranquillizer, but a mental stabilizer – and you are all up in arms …'

‘Would you consult the population before engaging in a gamble of this kind?' asked Wyndham in an unusually sharp voice.

‘Do we consult them before declaring war? Or before suing for peace? Do we consult children before giving them vitamin pills?'

Wyndham shook his head without replying. He was saddened by Niko's frivolity – or the depth of his despair. Or both.

Blood was enjoying himself. ‘I see that we are in for a sermon on Democracy. Pray let me remind you that in 1932 the nation of Hölderlin and Rilke voted, by perfectly democratic means, Adolf Hitler into power. Democracy is too serious a matter to be left to the electorate.'

Burch was impressed. ‘Who said that?' he inquired.

‘I say it,' trumpeted Blood. ‘However, I am willing to grant you that it's the lesser evil compared with other alternatives. So long as you don't make a fetish of it.'

‘Anyway,' Niko went on impatiently, ‘you are skipping several stages. Nobody suggests that we should start tomorrow adding mental stabilizers to the salt – or the water – though I do believe it will come to that, whether we recommend it or not. The first stage has to be experimenting on a large number of volunteers. Last night Valenti told me of a pilot project he had in mind. Perhaps he will explain …'

Valenti got up, adjusting his bow tie:

‘It is quite simple, my dear colleagues. You collect a thousand volunteers. You pay them. You do not tell them what the experiment is about. You tell them the pills are for having nice dreams while you sleep. During the treatment you arrange for various incidents to occur. The office boss is unpleasant to the subject. He is pushed in the subway by an
agent provocateur.
His wife starts flirting with his best friend. A varied menu of situations designed to provoke aggression and violence. Also one or two
femmes fatales
to invite infatuation, and a prayer meeting in the ashram of a Californian guru. If the subjects pass all these tests with stoic fortitude, the product can be put on the market. When its effects are shown on television, the use of the product will spread very quickly. It will also spread across the Iron Curtain and the Chinese Wall. Then the tampering, as you say, can be done with public approval. Otherwise it will have to be done anyway.'

‘Are you talking seriously?' asked Harriet.

Valenti directed the full radiance of his smile at her. ‘Perhaps it does not sound so, but it is the traditional way of testing a new treatment – the so-called double-blind method. There are controls who are given dummy pills. Neither doctor nor subject knows who gets what.'

Suddenly Petitjacques, who had followed the proceedings in silence, with at most a contemptuous grin, spoke up: ‘This idea I like very much. It is
surrealiste,
it is absurd, and therefore it is good.'

‘As you realize,' said Niko, ‘Valenti gave us a deliberate parody of his project, perhaps he realized that to speak seriously would have meant wasting his breath. For once I agree with Petitjacques: the surrealistic world which we have created cries out for surrealistic remedies. Man, biologically speaking, is an artefact, only capable of existing in an artificial environment. I think our only choice is to make it even more artificial in a positive sense. To survive as a species we shall have to change the chemistry – the whole metabolism of the planet's biosphere. Nothing short of that will do. Sermons won't help.'

‘No, no,' Halder shouted. ‘What we need are more sermons, but not about pin-cushions and alchemy and changing the metabolism of Faustus'
Erdgeist.
Sermons about peace, more education, more ab-reaction, more co-operation. It is a pity Kaletski has left us in the lurch. What about that message now? Kaletski should have drafted it…'

Halder obviously was so incensed about the rejection of his Therapy by Hate that he even forgot his loathing for Bruno. He lifted his arms in a routine prophetic gesture. ‘If only, if only, people would listen to the voice of reason …'

‘The point is, they won't,' snapped Niko. ‘If they did, we wouldn't be here, wasting our time talking in circles. I am fed up with this “if only” philosophy. “If only” the lion would lie down with the lamb, all would be well. There is an old Russian saying: “If my grandmother had four wheels she would be an omnibus …”'

‘Mr Chairman,' said Halder, vibrant with emotion, ‘I move that you finish your summing up and we then proceed to discuss the Resolution, or message, that is expected from us.'

Niko made an effort to pull himself together. Where had he gone off the rails? When he had let himself be carried away by the idea of ‘biological tampering'.
If
there was a road to survival, it pointed in that direction. But did he really believe in that ‘if'? The familiar, nagging pain had returned. He made a gesture as if brushing a cobweb from his face.

‘I must apologize,' he continued in a calmer voice, ‘if I have laid too much emphasis on one, still hypothetical way out of the impasse into which mankind has manoeuvred itself. Other remedies have been suggested by other speakers, which are still vivid in our memories, so I shall not tire you by recapitulating them. With some of these suggestions, such as Halder's and Burch's, I am unable to agree, while with others, such as Wyndham's and Tony's, I am in full sympathy. But they are long-term remedies, and historical time is a tricky dimension – it does not flow at uniform speed, it is accelerating like a river approaching a cataract. It took
two thousand years until the dream of Icarus was realized by the Wright brothers' first aerial hop, but only sixty-five years from there to the moon. If the danger to our species is as urgent as in our more lucid moments we know it to be, but in our more relaxed moments tend to forget – then we must have the courage – and the imagination – to seek solutions on a planet-wide scale …' He seemed to have finished, paused, then went on briskly:

‘… In conclusion, may I remind you of that famous Einstein letter that I mentioned in my opening remarks – and which was meant to serve as an inspiration for this conference.' The dreaded moment had come. ‘And so I invite you to make your suggestions regarding the proposed message.'

He leant back in his chair. He had done what he could. In the ensuing silence, the church-bells started booming once more, with heavy irony it seemed. The sky over the mountains was an impeccable blue, the glaciers looked more inhuman than ever.

At last Harriet spoke up:

‘Mr Chairman, I move that we send no message.'

Burch rasped: ‘Mr Chairman, I move that we appoint an editorial committee which will prepare a concise and impartial summary of the various proposals that have been discussed, and request a substantial allocation of research funds.'

‘Burch is right,' said Blood. ‘Asking for funds proves your respectability.'

‘Mr Chairman,' said Halder, ‘I move that we all stop making bad jokes.'

‘Mr Chairman,' said John D. Jr, ‘I second Professor Burch's proposal.'

Petitjacques repeated his dumb show with the Scotch tape. Niko almost sympathized with him. There was another pause; then the swing-door opened and Gustav made one of his dramatic entries, saluting in semi-military fashion, and handing a telegram to the Chairman. Wyndham giggled: ‘Hermes, messenger of the gods.'