Adventures in Time and Space

by Raymond J Healy

  Professor Borthin rose quietly. Whatever he may have thought of the way in which the meeting was going, he gave no sign of perturbation. He began his address by explaining the progress which had been made in his laboratories in the processes of brain-grafting under prolonged anesthetized conditions, with local stimulations to the growth of connecting tissue, so that after a period of unconsciousness, lasting from ten to fourteen days, the subject of the experiment would awake with an alien brain (or an alien body, if you should prefer so to express it), functioning smoothly and well. At this stage, he produced a guinea-pig in a cage with climbing-bars, which he explained had been supplied with a brain from one of the smaller monkeys, and which now disported itself among the bars with a clumsy agility, giving somewhat the impression of a performing bear.

  He had completed his preparations, he went on to explain, some weeks ago, for the transposition of the brains of children and dogs on a scale which could not fail to produce results of unusual interest. He had little doubt that the children would be able to contrive some measure of articulate speech from the throats of their new dwellings: he was hopeful that the dogs could be trained to use the power of speech which their new bodies would render available to them.

  He wanted a large number of babies‌—‌healthy examples, the children of various sections of the community, professional, commercial, military, naval, artisan‌—‌even specimens of the superstitious religious sects which still lurked and lingered obscurely‌—‌so that their various reactions could be comprehensively studied. For this purpose he required power to make requisition among the babies which should be born during the next twelve months, including, if necessary, the power to order that such babies should be produced by suitable couples‌—‌the Council did not need his reminder that some sections of the community had almost ceased to produce children, unless ordered to do so under sufficient penalties, and he did not blind himself to the fact that the authority he was seeking might tend to make them additionally obstinate in such abstentions‌—‌so that, in twelve months’ time, he could, he had no reason to doubt, make such report to the Council, and exhibit such infant and canine specimens, as would abundantly justify the experiment on which he was occupied.

  He knew‌—‌he was sorry to know‌—‌that their esteemed President had not received his first request with the cordiality which he might have reasonably expected, but the claims of Science were paramount, ‌—‌surely, in that assembly, there was no need to urge it‌—‌and he appealed with confidence to the Council for the support he needed.

  He moved his resolution accordingly.

  He had scarcely resumed his seat when the President rose.

  “I propose,” he said, “to move the postponement of this resolution ‌—‌not because I doubt the value of our friend’s experiments, not because I doubt that the claims of Science are paramount, not because I doubt that many human brains may find congenial shelter in the skulls of dogs, but because I have also something to tell you of the development of the human brain, and because I believe, if you accept the offer which I am able to make, we shall all be better fitted when next we meet to decide this question wisely.”

  Briefly and clearly, he proceeded to tell them of the nature of this discovery, of the injection which he had already taken, and of the further one which he would administer to himself in their presence. Amid a watchful silence, he drove the needle again into his own arm.

  “In half an hour,” he went on, “you may expect its effects to be apparent. In the meantime, I shall explain to you, in greater detail, the nature and qualities of the preparation, and the experiments that I have made already. After that, I shall propose to reply to Dr. Sturmie’s somewhat violent attack upon myself. Should I succeed in convincing you that he is in error, you will recognize the value of the brain-stimulus which I have discovered.

  “Gentlemen,” he went on, his voice falling to a note of earnestness, and of apparent sincerity, “we are inclined to distrust one another. I know that there is more than one here who fancies himself secure in the belief that he could destroy me with impunity in three seconds from where he sits, should he decide to do so (he is mistaken, but never mind that), but I ask you this‌—‌if I offer to share this new power equally with you all, if I propose that it be confined to members of the Council, so that you will be supreme among all men, do I not show my loyalty and my goodwill, and do I not provide a basis on which a new standard of reciprocal loyalty may be established among us?”

  Here he paused, and looked round for the applause which was not slow to respond. For the moment, he had gained the ear of the Council. He had only to justify his boast to establish his supremacy. Only Sturmie sat silent and contemptuous, digesting the insult which he had received. Professor Borthin, with an expressionless face, joined in the applause. He was not deceived. He knew that one of them must be doomed. But he would wait his time. The experiment had not yet succeeded.

  Silent and watchful, he heard the President go on to the detailed explanations which he had promised, while the clock on the wall behind him ticked out the half hour for which they waited.

  Twenty minutes passed, and he became aware, with a quickened interest, that President Brisket was changing. But it was not to any apparent advance in intellectual alertness, not in the clarity or profundity of the remarks he was making, but there was a change, both in voice and manner. Even his face seemed different. He was smiling fatuously. What was he saying now?

  Dr. Acton-Shaw, who was listening with his usual intentness, his wizened face slightly lifted sideways to the speaker, pushed his chair a little back from the table.

  “You know,” President Brisket was saying, “we don’t love humanity as we ought. We don’t even love one another. There’s Borthin here, one of the best, who doesn’t trust me as he should. He’s got something up his sleeve now that he thinks could kill me. ‌—‌And, gentlemen‌—‌I know I shall feel better when I’ve confessed it‌—‌I’ve got a little arrangement of my own that would hit back automatically if he tried it, and would kill you all, if I wished… . No, don’t move. You’re quite safe. I’m sure Borthin wouldn’t hurt a fly. But if he did try, even I couldn’t save you. You’d go so quickly you wouldn’t know how you died… . Now we’ve got to alter all that. We’ve got to love each other, and the poor dogs, and Dr. Sturmie, and the dear little guinea-pigs. We mustn’t think of ourselves. Sturmie thinks that I ought to resign, and, of course, I will. I know he didn’t mean to be rude. He just hadn’t thought of the Invasion of Energy, and what a difference it might make. It’s almost sure to… . But Professor Borthin looks as though he’s got something to say, and, of course, he shall…. Professor Borthin will address the meeting.”

  Professor Borthin rose. “Gentlemen,” he said briefly, “you have heard our esteemed President tender his resignation. Before we deal with the previous resolution, I move that the resignation be now accepted.”

  The President rose to reply. There was the same deprecating fatuous smile on his face, and he did not appear to resent the resolution which had been put forward so abruptly.

  “Gentlemen, of course I’ll resign. But we’d better have the resolutions one at a time, hadn’t we? I’m sure Borthin doesn’t really want the babies… . You didn’t think of their mothers, did you, Borthin? … And we don’t want to hurt the little doggies either. The resolution is … Those against?”

  He looked round the wondering faces of the Council, but not a hand was lifted.

  “I know I needn’t put the affirmative. I’m sure no one will vote for a resolution like that,” he went on, with a plaintive confidence.

  Dr. Sturmie turned his huge head slowly from right to left, reading the faces of those around him. His voice rumbled out contemptuously.

  “After this exhibition of senile decay‌—‌unless anyone else wants a dose of the same kind‌—‌I think we’d better have the resolution properly. It has been moved That Professor Borthin have power to examine all babies whi
ch may be born during the next twelve months within thirty-five miles of London, and to retain as many as he may select for experimental purposes, and further that he may require that those whom he may nominate shall provide him with babies of their own breeding within twelve months of such order, under such penalties as he may consider suitable, should they fail to do so. Those in favor? Carried nem. con. The President and Secretary not voting.”

  President Brisket got to his feet unsteadily. His eyes had a curiously pathetic look, as of one who has lost his way in the dark.

  Dr. Acton-Shaw looked at him again, and pushed his chair a little further back from the table.

  “Oh, no, gentlemen,” he began plaintively, “you don’t really mean that. You couldn’t mean it, you know. Oh, no, Sturmie dear. I’m not an old fool, really. But I’m not sure we oughtn’t to end at once, really I’m not. I think we must have gone the wrong way… .”

  He sat down uncertainly, and as he did so, Dr. Acton-Shaw pushed his chair further back, till it was clear of the central patterning of the floor on which the table stood.

  A professor of chemistry, a dark slim man, younger than most, sitting halfway down the table, who had not spoken previously, interposed.

  “Mr. President, I don’t think you’re quite yourself this afternoon. Won’t you …” He may have been about to ask him to adjourn the meeting, but the sentence was never finished.

  The President had been scraping with his foot under the table. Once to the left‌—‌once forward‌—‌twice to the right. He might be feeling a bit queer, but he hadn’t forgotten that. It would be best for the race, and oh, so much for themselves!

  Dr. Sturmie looked at him intently, and half leapt from his chair, with an agility which he had not shown for the past ten years, but he was too late. The great body collapsed so heavily that the chair cracked audibly in the sudden silence of the room.

  Dr. Acton-Shaw, still pushing his chair backward as he rose, the minute-book carefully retained beneath his arm, observed his twenty colleagues sagging around the table in attitudes which looked uncomfortable, but which they appeared to endure very patiently.

  He was not greatly surprised, and not at all disconcerted.

  They were clever men, but he had been led to wonder for some months past, as he had recorded their decisions, whether there might not be higher powers than they.

  “There’ll be bonfires tomorrow,” he said thoughtfully. “I suppose I’d better clear.” And then, with a new decision: “No, I won’t do that. I expect I can do something to help. I’ll ring up Wyndham.”

  He went out quietly, to ring up the Premier who had been deposed by Professor Brisket a ghastly year ago.