The Investigation

by Stanisław Lem

  “I don’t have time for discussions, so please don’t interrupt me. Can you define those ‘forces of nature’ you mention so glibly? I can’t. The problem in this case is strictly methodological. Its aspects from the criminal point of view don’t interest me at all, they never did.”

  Without interrupting himself, Sciss went over to the wall, turned on the ceiling light, and glanced at the lieutenant. A smile appeared on his thin lips.

  “Please look over here.” He pointed toward the open closet. Gregory moved closer. There was a map of England hanging on the door, its surface covered with what looked like a fine red rash, but the blood-red speckling wasn’t uniform in intensity: in some places it was denser; here and there towns were completely encircled; the lightest areas were on the right-hand side of the map, along the Channel coast.

  “Since this isn’t really a problem for you or your department, you’ll probably find my explanation useless, but I assure you it’s the only answer,” Sciss said, smiling faintly but coldly. “Do you recognize the lightest area over here?”

  “Yes. That’s the area of Norfolk where the bodies were stolen.”

  “Wrong. This map shows the distribution of deaths from cancer in England for the past nineteen years. The region with the lowest death rate — that is, less than thirty percent, using an average based on a half-century — falls within the boundaries of the area in which the corpses disappeared. In other words, there is an inverse proportion; I have formulated an equation to express it, but I won’t go into that now because you wouldn’t understand it.” Sciss’s almost imperceptible smile was beginning to take on an abusive quality.

  “It is your primary duty to respect the facts,” Sciss continued. “I, my dear sir, went beyond the facts. Some corpses disappeared. How? The evidence suggests they walked away by themselves. Of course, you, as a policeman, want to know if anyone helped them. The answer is yes: they were helped by whatever causes snail shells to be dextrorotatory. But one in every ten million snail shells is sinistrorsal. This is a fact that can be verified statistically. I was assigned to determine the connection between one phenomenon and other phenomena. That’s all that science ever does, and all that it ever will do — until the end. Resurrection? By no means. Don’t be ridiculous. The term is used much too loosely. I’m not claiming that the corpses came back to life, with their hearts beating, their brains thinking, the coagulated blood in their veins flowing again. The changes which take place in a dead body are not reversible in that sense. What other sense is there, you ask — the corpses moved around, changed their positions in space. I agree, but the things you’re talking about are nothing but facts — I have explanations!”

  Sciss moved closer to the map and raised his arm. No longer smiling, he spoke quickly and energetically, his high-pitched voice taking on a triumphant note.

  “A phenomenon is subject to analysis only if the structure of its events, as in this case, conforms to a regular pattern. Science progresses by discovering the connection between one phenomenon and other phenomena, and this is exactly what I succeeded in doing. If I were to ask why a rock falls when dropped, you would reply that it is due to the action of gravity. Yet if I asked what gravity is, there would be no answer. But even though we don’t know what gravity is, we can determine its regular pattern of action. People become accustomed to rocks always falling. Any phenomenon which continues to exist within everyday comprehension, even if incomprehensible in itself, ends up being commonplace. For example, if human or animal corpses usually got up and walked around, if that was the norm, the police wouldn’t be interested in the incidents in Norfolk. I was assigned to determine the cause of this seemingly abnormal series of phenomena, and, its uniqueness notwithstanding, to connect it with some other series of phenomena that was already familiar, documented, and of such long standing that its occurrences no longer shock the public or arouse the curiosity of the police. Death by cancer is a perfect example of this kind of phenomenon. I examined parish registries from the whole Norfolk region as well as hospital death records for the past fifty years. Of course I encountered a certain amount of difficulty. During the early part of this fifty-year period doctors were not able to differentiate cancer, or to treat it as a separate disease as they do nowadays. However, to the extent that it was possible, I collected the facts regarding the number of cancer-related deaths, translated them into statistics, and transferred them to this map. You can see the results.”

  Sciss turned off the light and went back to his desk, and as he did so Gregory finally discovered the source of the unpleasant odor: it was emanating from the corner just beyond the closet, where he could see some long, low boxes crammed with moldy, stained, old books.

  “To make a long story short, Mr. Gregory, mortality due to cancer follows a regular cycle and is in turn governed by it. Around the end of the nineteenth century we begin to see an irregular but steady increase in incidences of cancer, and nowadays, as a result, more people than ever contract cancer and die from cancer. Norfolk and its surrounding region, however, constitutes an enclave with a relatively low cancer mortality. In other words, the rate of death from cancer has remained more or less the same for the past thirty years, although it has continued to increase in adjacent regions. When the difference between the mortality rates of this enclave and the adjacent localities exceeded a certain level, corpses began to disappear. The center, that is, the place where the first disappearance occurred, is not the geometric, spatial center of the enclave, but the place in which cancer mortality reached the lowest level. The phenomenon spread from that point in a definite pattern: it moved rapidly because of such factors as temperature, etc. As you should remember, I’ve already explained that. In the last incident, the phenomenon reached the boundaries of the enclave. The formula which I have derived from the statistics on cancer deaths excludes the possibility of any corpse disappearances outside the enclave. It was on this basis that I wrote to Sheppard.”

  Sciss fell silent, turned around, and picked up the lamp. He held it in his hand for a moment, as if uncertain what to do with it, then placed it on his desk.

  “You made up your mind on the basis of this?” Gregory whispered, warning himself to proceed cautiously.

  “No. There was more.”

  Sciss folded his arms across his chest.

  “In the earlier incidents, the corpses disappeared, so to speak, ‘permanently’; that is, they were moved for an unknown distance in an unknown direction. In the last incident, however, there was comparatively little displacement of the corpse. Why? Because the last incident occurred very close to the boundary of the enclave. This helped me to define the coefficient of my formula with great precision, inasmuch as the rate of cancer mortality increases by an arithmetic rather than a geometric progression as we trace its passage from the enclave into the adjacent regions.”

  The room was silent. Gregory could hear the far-off hissing of the gas burner.

  “All right,” he said at last. “In your opinion, then, what caused the disappearances? The movements, if you prefer.”

  Sciss smiled faintly, looking at the detective with an amused expression.

  “I beg your pardon,” he said, “but I’ve already answered your questions. You’re acting like a child who is shown Maxwell’s theorem and a diagram of a radio receiver and then asks, ‘How does this box talk?’ It has never occurred to you or your Chief to institute an investigation against whatever causes people to contract cancer, has it? Similarly, at least as far as I know, you’ve never made inquiries about the perpetrator of Asiatic flu.”

  Gregory clenched his teeth, warning himself not to respond to Sciss’s sarcasm.

  “All right,” he said. “The way you see things you’re right. Since it’s only a simple case of resurrection, rather than a matter of corpses moving, standing, and walking after death, you consider everything to be perfectly clear-cut and understandable and therefore not worth any further investigation.”

  “Do you think I’
m an idiot?” Sciss said, sitting down on the radiator again. His voice was suprisingly gentle. “Obviously there’s a good deal here for biochemists, physiologists, and biologists to look into, but there’s nothing for the police. Futhermore, the study of something like this could go on and on without any definitive results, even after fifty years — just like the study of cancer. Only my field — statistics — can give immediate results. The same applies in the study of cancer. So far as this case is concerned, there will probably be quite a few conflicting theories in time, and I imagine that the ones the public finds most appealing will help to build up the circulation of the more sensational newspapers. The phenomenon will be connected with flying saucers, with astrology, with God only knows what. But all that is none of my business.”

  “What about the dead animals we found at the scene of the disappearances?” Gregory asked, pretending not to have heard the note of anger that was beginning to appear in Sciss’s voice.

  “That interests you? Yes, of course…” Sciss said. Suddenly calm again, he clasped his knees with his thin, twisted arms.

  “I didn’t analyze that particular point mathematically, but the simplest and most fundamental explanation would be to regard the animal as a vehiculum, that is to say, as the carrier or medium which conveys the movement factor to the corpse. This factor is specific to a particular biological agens; it is similar in nature to whatever causes cancer, and in certain circumstances, we must assume, the ‘something’ that produces cancer is transmuted into our factor; that is, it employs small domestic animals as a means of moving from one place to another. Rats, to cite a well-known example, played the same role in bubonic plague.”

  “Is it some kind of bacteria?” Gregory asked. He was leaning against the open door of the closet, studying Sciss’s shadow on the floor in front of him but listening carefully.

  “I didn’t say that. I don’t know. I don’t know a thing. The theory is full of holes. Hypotheses non fingo. I won’t stand for it. It isn’t my job to formulate hypotheses. I can’t afford to worry about the problem, I haven’t got the time.”

  “If it’s not a bacteria, but, as you say, a biological factor, maybe it’s a microbe,” Gregory said. “An intelligent microbe, in fact a very intelligent microbe, a microbe with the ability to think ahead the way a human being does.”

  “I get the impression that you’re looking for a way to make a profit on this story — what are you planning, a magazine article about intelligent microbes?” Sciss’s voice shook with anger. Gregory, as if he hadn’t heard, walked slowly toward Sciss, very slowly, speaking more and more distinctly, yet faster and faster, as if he were being consumed by the fire of a brilliant idea.

  “This factor,” Gregory said, “suddenly turns up in the middle of the area that has the low death rate. It carries out all its activities with as much foresight as a conscious being, except that at the beginning it’s still inexperienced. It doesn’t know, for instance, that most people would consider a naked corpse a little — let’s say — peculiar, and that carrying one around can get a bit complicated. Then the factor learns that nudity is considered improper dress, even on dead people. The next time he moves a body he makes a point of providing suitable clothing — and how does he do it? — by tearing down a curtain with his bare teeth! Later on he learns to read; how else is he going to study the weather forecasts? Then this brilliant intelligence of his fogs up when he gets too close to the boundary of the low cancer mortality region. He can only manage to set some stiffened limbs in motion — poorly coordinated motion at that — and run them through some graveyard gymnastics: standing the body up, making it peer through the window of the mortuary, and so forth.”

  “You seem to know exactly what happened. Were you there?” Sciss asked, not showing his face.

  “No, I wasn’t there, but I know what can frighten an English constable. Dancing corpses. Evidently just as he was losing consciousness he remembered Holbein and the pranks skeletons used to play in the Middle Ages.”

  “Who?”

  The scientist’s voice was almost unrecognizable.

  “What did you say?” Gregory asked in surprise. “What’s this ‘who?’ We’re talking about a statistically documented biological factor. I’m just repeating what you told me.”

  Gregory drew so close to Sciss that he was almost able to touch his knee. The scientist stood up, thrusting his pale, motionless face directly in front of the detective’s. Gregory could see his pupils contracting. The two men stood that way for a few moments, then Gregory stepped backward and began laughing. The laugh was feigned, but it sounded almost spontaneous and its naturalness would have fooled anyone. Sciss stared at him for a moment, then his face began to quiver spasmodically and he started to laugh also. An instant later the room fell into silence. Sciss returned to his desk, sat down in the armchair behind it and, leaning backward, drummed his fingers on his leg for a moment.

  “You think I did it, don’t you?” he said. Gregory had not expected such directness. Uncertain how to reply, he stood quietly, tall and clumsy, desperately trying to decide how to handle things now that their encounter had taken this new course.

  “A few moments ago,” Sciss continued, “I thought you considered me an idiot. I can see now, though, that you think I’m insane. And so… I am threatened with arrest or with detention for psychiatric observation. Considering my state of health, I must say that both eventualities come at a bad moment; in addition I really can’t afford to waste the time. I was wrong to let Sheppard talk me into cooperating, but it’s too late now. What can I do to convince you that your theory is wrong?”

  “Did you go to the doctor today?” Gregory asked in a quiet voice, drawing closer to the desk.

  “Yes. I saw Dr. Vaugham. His office hours are from four to six. I made an appointment with him by telephone last week.”

  “The results of his examination… are they medically confidential?”

  “I’ll phone him and ask him to tell you everything he told me. Is there anything else?”

  “Is that your car parked in the courtyard downstairs?”

  “There are always several cars in the courtyard so I don’t know which one you’re talking about. I have a gray Chrysler.”

  “I’d like —” Gregory began. He was interrupted by the telephone. Sciss bent over and picked up the receiver.

  “Sciss speaking,” he said. The drone of a loud voice could be heard in response.

  “What?” said Sciss. Then, a little louder: “Where? Where?”

  For the next few moments he listened without saying a word. Gregory moved closer to the desk. He looked at his watch. It was almost nine.

  “Good. Yes…” Sciss said at last. Just before hanging up he added: “Yes, yes, Gregory is here, yes, I’ll tell him.” He slammed the receiver into its cradle, stood up, and walked over to the map inside the open closet door. Gregory followed him.

  “One of the missing bodies has been found,” Sciss said, his voice so low that he appeared to be thinking about something else. He peered nearsightedly at the map and, taking a pen from his pocket, made a small mark near the edge of the enclave.

  “In Beverly Court, at the bottom of a water tank. It was discovered when the tank was drained. The body of a male.”

  “Who telephoned?” asked Gregory.

  “What? Uh, I don’t know. I didn’t ask. He told me his name but I wasn’t paying attention. It was someone from Scotland Yard. Sergeant something-or-other. Yes, it fits. They’ll all start turning up now… in sequence, like shells fired from a gun, although…”

  He became silent. Standing slightly to Sciss’s side, Gregory watched him through slitted eyes, listening intently to the rhythm of his breathing.

  “You think they’ll come back… all of them?” he said at last. Sciss raised his eyes to Gregory and quickly straightened up. His face was flushed, his breathing even louder than before.

  “I don’t know. It’s possible, it’s even probable. If they do, the
whole series will be concluded… and everything else with it! Maybe I figured it out too late. Suitable camera equipment with infrared film would have provided photographs explicit enough to protect me from this… this fooling around.”

  “Does Beverly Court fit into your pattern? What I mean is, does its location go along with your theory?” Gregory asked somewhat perfunctorily.

  “The question is poorly phrased,” Sciss replied. “I have no way of determining where the bodies will be found; that is, where they will ultimately stop moving. The only thing I can calculate is the amount of time that elapses between a disappearance and the cessation of the phenomenon, and this I can do only approximately. In my estimate, the bodies which disappeared first will be found last. You should be able to understand why. At the beginning, for some reason, the factor conveyed the greatest amount of motor energy to the corpses; by the time it reached the boundary of the region it was only able to transmit a minimal charge, barely sufficient for a series of uncoordinated body movements. You probably think I’m raving. Or lying, perhaps. It’s all the same thing in the end. Now leave me alone, will you? I still have a lot to do.” Sciss pointed to one of the boxes of moldy books. Gregory nodded his head.

  “I’m going. Just one question first. Did you go to the doctor by car?”

  “No. I went by subway and I came home the same way. I have a question too: what do you intend to do with me? I only ask because I want to be able to work as long as possible without interference. Is that understood?”

  Gregory buttoned his coat, which was beginning to hang on his shoulders like a lead weight. Taking a deep breath, and again inhaling the faint musty odor, he answered:

  “What do I intend to do? Nothing, for the time being. Let me remind you that I haven’t expressed any suspicions or made any charges — not even one word!”

  With his head bent, Gregory walked into the foyer. In the dimness he caught a glimpse of a woman’s face, a pale blot which disappeared almost instantly; he heard the sound of a door slamming. He found his way out of the apartment, checked the time again on the luminous face of his watch, and went downstairs. In the lobby, instead of heading for the street, he turned in the opposite direction and went into the courtyard toward a long, gray automobile. He circled it slowly but couldn’t see very much in the faint light from the windows of the surrounding buildings. The car was locked, completely dark, except where reflections of the apartment house lights danced rhythmically on its shiny fender in time with Gregory’s movements. He touched the hood: it was cool. That didn’t mean anything, though. It was a little harder to reach the radiator. He had to bend down and stretch his hand through a wide chrome-enclosed gap that looked like the thicklipped mouth of a sea monster. Hearing a slight noise, Gregory winced and straightened up. He saw Sciss at the second-floor window. Now he wouldn’t have to continue his examination of the car, Gregory thought; Sciss’s behavior confirmed his suspicions. At the same time, though, he felt a bit uncomfortable, as if he had been caught doing something underhanded, and this feeling became stronger when, observing Sciss more closely, he realized that the scientist wasn’t watching him at all. After standing next to the open window for a few moments, Sciss sat down awkwardly on the window sill, drawing his knees up and wearily resting his head in his hands. This gesture was so incompatible with Gregory’s image of Sciss that he stepped back to get a better look, and as he did so he stumbled over a piece of metal, crushing it underfoot with a piercing noise. Sciss looked down into the courtyard. Gregory stood absolutely still, flushed with embarrassment and anger, uncertain what to do next. He didn’t know for sure if he’d been seen, but Sciss continued looking downward, and although Gregory couldn’t make out his eyes or face, he could feel his disdainful gaze.