The Golden Age of Weird Fiction Megapack, Volume 5

by David H. Keller

  Even here he was in doubt as to whether he was simply restoring a lost power to the cell or giving it a new power.

  He had experimented with this solution on many forms of multi-cellular life. In all instances, the effect was the same. It made a sick plant or animal well. Five years ago, he had started experimenting with sick mammals, and had cured various diseases. His work with the higher apes had been most interesting. At last, he had felt justified in beginning his work with the human animal. The results here had been identical with those he had seen in the lower types of animal life.

  It was more and more clear to him, he explained, that all conduct that was selfish and antisocial was simply the result of sickness. He hoped that future work with the serum would make this thought a definite scientific fact. If it were true, then all sin and evil in the world could be wiped out; and man, following the Golden Rule, would leap upward toward the stars.

  In his work with animals, he felt that he had been able to prolong life. That would have to be considered. At present, all that could be said was that the expectancy of life would be increased. How much would be added to the span of human existence would have to be determined by years of observation. The question of a second dose would also have to be experimented with. Personally, he felt that the maximum result would be obtained from one dose of ten cubic centimeters.

  He hoped that there would be an improvement in the intelligence of the nation. He was sure there would be some advance. Certain of the convicts had shown a remarkable increase in their intelligence quotient. That also would have to be studied.

  But even if nothing more resulted than the improvement of the physical health of the nation, it would be worth while. He advised that the serum be made in at least a dozen laboratories and distributed free to every reputable physician. He understood that the Serum Bill would provide for pensioning the medical profession in return for their services. They would need some pension because, when the entire population was treated, there would be little or no work for either the physician or surgeon, except in accident cases. Even in severe accidents, a dose of the serum would perhaps cure without an operation.

  He ended by giving the composition of the serum, and the manner of its preparation. It was not a true serum, but rather a water solution of certain well known chemicals. He had called it a serum because that name was best understood by the laity. When he finished he asked the chemist if he understood and would be able to make it.

  “Understand? Make it?” asked the chemist. “Why it is so simple that anyone could follow the directions and make it. It is too simple. I wonder why no one thought of it before?”

  “Columbus and the egg,” remarked the President. “And now, Gentlemen, have any of you any questions to ask Mr. Biddle? He is very anxious to leave the city.”

  “How about the diet?” asked one of the doctors.

  “Anything at all will do, but the person will eat less and less food and drink more and more water. He may use the hydrogen atom in the water. I am not sure.”

  “I think,” said the President of the A. M. A., “that I have never met a man who knew more about a thing and was less sure of that knowledge. At the same time, it is not necessary to know how the drug works so long as we are sure of the fact that it does. I feel that Mr. Biddle has done his share. It is now our duty, as members of the greatest, most sacrificing profession in the world, to begin the work that will ultimately make us all hunt for another job. You are not sure, Mr. Biddle, how much life will be prolonged?”

  “I cannot answer that. Certainly some years.”

  “Do you think there is a chance that after a person lives a long time, we may gain the impression that he cannot die?”

  “I do not know.”

  “Have any of the animals you have experimented with died?”

  “None of them have died a natural death. Of course, I killed a number of them for microscopic study.”

  “Have you considered the great increase in population, if the span of life is greatly prolonged?”

  “Yes, but I do not think we need worry about it. Wealth will greatly increase. Life will be easier, happier. The healthy man will find new methods of socialization. In addition to all this, there will be a decrease in the birth rate.”

  “What makes you think so?”

  “I do not know. I just feel so. Perhaps man will be wiser.”

  “You evidently do not want to discuss this point. Why not?”

  “Because I know so little about it.”

  “Have you anything to tell us? To advise us?”

  “Yes. I would first concentrate on the abnormals—those who are definite charges on the State. Empty the hospitals, and then see to it that every citizen of the United States receives his dose. You will have to be careful of the criminal class. They will probably try to escape. There is one thing I think that the medical profession should go on record as in favor of. In regard to the prisoners, we should feel that every so-called bad man and woman was a sick man and woman. Once he has recovered from the sickness, he should be given his liberty. You know my argument. The legal profession, the penologists must accept it. In fact, I had it written into the Serum Law, but you must educate the public to the point where they will be willing to follow out that provision.”

  With that, he prepared to leave the room. He went into the President’s private office for a last word.

  “I forgot to ask you, but perhaps it was not necessary. How is your throat? The cancer?”

  “Cured! At least, that is what my specialists tell me.”

  “Good. That is fine.”

  Just then one of the private secretaries came into the office.

  “The British Ambassador is here. He is demanding an interview with the President and Mr. Biddle.”

  “You know what he wants, Biddle?” asked the President.

  “Certainly. He wants the formula so he can send it over to his country. He is just the first to ask for it. In the next twenty-four hours, the world will be knocking at your door.”

  “I have been afraid of that. How would it be to effect a compromise? Tell them they can have the secret, if they promise to disarm and sign a treaty of everlasting peace.”

  Biddle smiled; it was a rather timid, frightened smile.

  “I do not think that will be necessary. I think we should tell them how to make it, and advise them to give it to their entire population. If the serum works the way I think it will, there will never be any more wars, treaties or no treaties. After all, war is simply insanity and a form of sickness. The serum ought to help. I believe it will. Of course, it is a big idea, Mr. President, and it is so big I am a little afraid of it; but I would advise you to talk frankly with the various ambassadors, and give them the formula without restrictions. And now, I must be going.”

  “Won’t you stay for supper? I would like to give some of my friends a chance to meet you.”

  “No. My work here is over. I have a son. I want to go and see him.”

  CHAPTER 14

  The School For Unusual Children

  The Mary Gregory School for Unusual Children was one of the first of its kind in America. In the past, the super-rich had built libraries, endowed museums, financed foundations for the eradication of disease, and even built monuments to their family fame in the form of wide roads across an entire state.

  But Mary Gregory, left more millions by her family than she or any other woman would know what to do with, built a school to care for fifteen hundred unusual children; and after it was built and completely furnished, she employed the best personnel in the country to go there and work. She also set aside an endowment sufficient to provide a thousand dollars income for each child per year. Then and only then she gave the entire school to the State of Maine. When she was criticized for giving it to Maine rather than New York, she simply smiled and said she felt that the children of Maine needed it.

  At the head of the School she placed a man who for years had worked with the abnormal child.
For twenty years he had studied them, cared for them, laughed and cried with them, and tried to make them happy. He was a great man who in his simplicity believed that in another twenty years of study he would begin to understand how to care for the unusual child.

  Dr. Bonchields motto for the entire school was “happiness first.”’ He believed that if the children were happy, the other essentials of life could be easily supplied them; provided, of course, there were money and intelligence.

  Slowly, fifteen hundred children were admitted to this school. They were all mentally deficient, of all grades from the lowest idiot to the highest moron. But each child, irrespective of his intelligence quotient, was to be given an opportunity to advance to the limit of his ability. They were to be given academic education, occupational therapy, moral instruction, athletic diversion, and emotional outlet.

  When Biddle left Washington, he went directly to this school. Here he met by appointment Mary Gregory and Dr. Bonchields. Both of them knew him as he made occasional visits to the school. Mary Gregory was growing old, but was still alert mentally.

  “It appears,” she said as she greeted Biddle, “that you have become a personage of international renown.”

  The scientist smiled.

  “It seems that way, and that was the last thing I wanted; but certain things had to be done, and in doing them, people had to find out who I was. Now that it is all over, I want nothing more than to sink back into obscurity. I have a little work to do here, and then I intend to go to Canada. I have a country place up there that I believe is safe from reporters.”

  “Up here in Maine,” interrupted Dr. Bonchields, “we are very much in the backwaters of life. Of course, we read the newspapers; Miss Gregory and I have been talking about it, trying to decide what it all means. Is it your thought that the serum will actually change our civilization? Or is that just the dream of the newspapers?”

  “I do not believe that anyone knows just what it will do,” was the scientist’s serious reply. “We are too close to it. I feel that it will take twenty-five years at least before the final results can be analyzed. But there is no doubt that it will improve the health of the nation, lower the tax rate and, I hope, increase the happiness of the individual.”

  Mary Gregory sighed.

  “We received your letter, and have given it serious thought. Of course we are going to help you give our children the serum. It is impossible for us to refuse; but we feel that we know more about these children than you do, and we feel that we should warn you not to be overconfident with the results. You explain how we look at it, Doctor Bonchields.”

  “It seems to us,” said the Doctor, taking up the thread of the conversation, “that you should realize that mental deficiency is not a disease but a condition; not a unity, but a scrap basket. It arises from many causes. Some cases are hereditary, but feeblemindedness can occur as a symptom of a number of other diseases and surgical conditions. In many Instances, the brain is so damaged that the intelligence is completely destroyed. We feel that there may be an improvement in the general health of the children following the injection of your serum, but there will not be any noticeable change in their deficiency. They will remain feeble-minded.”

  “You may be right,” admitted the scientist. “You certainly know a great deal more about it than I do. Mental defect was something I could not experiment with in the lower forms of life. Some of the convicts were rather low, but there were not enough of them to make any definite conclusion possible. All we can do is to give the serum and wait thirty days. I know that the maximum results will be reached in that time. I feel sure your own physicians will be able to do the work. There has been so much notoriety that I hesitated asking you to secure additional help. Of course, there was another reason.”

  “You mean the boy?” asked Mary Gregory.

  “Yes. You see I have been considerably worried about him. The entire work was done with him in mind. I have tried to keep him in the background as much as possible. Now that I can be a little selfish and devote some time to my personal problems, I do not want the matter a subject of world gossip. How is the boy?”

  “As well as can be expected. You know how those Mongolian cases are, low vitality, poor resistance to infection, always getting scratches and colds.”

  “You have no idea of the cause of Mongolianism?”

  “No. Nothing new. It just happens.”

  Biddle stood up, placed a suitcase on the desk and opened it.

  “I brought the serum along with me. Some of my own make; I wanted to be sure of it. If you are ready, suppose you call in the staff, explain matters to them and start with the injections.”

  “May I watch?” asked Mary Gregory.

  “Certainly. You should be very much interested.”

  “I am. Fifteen million dollars worth. You realize what this will do to the School if it is successful? I will have to find some other use for it. Of course, some of the children will have to be cared for anyway; they have no families. But if these children are given normal minds by your serum, the Mary Gregory School for Unusual Children will be simply a historical memory.”

  “And I,” added Dr. Bonchields, “will be a man without a job.”

  “I will take care of you,” said Mary Gregory, “if you will let me do it. Are you going to give us the serum, Mr. Biddle?”

  “If you want me to. I thought we might as well give it to you and the staff so they can observe my exact technique.”

  “Do you want to take care of your little boy yourself?”

  “No. I have rather definite plans for him. I want you to give all your patients the serum. Then wait thirty days. If, at the end of that time, you feel that it is curative, if you are pleased with the results, then give the regular dose to my boy. I am going up to Canada to rest and think. In sixty days, I will be back for the boy. I am thinking of a trip to Europe with him. If he is well, he will enjoy that. How old is he now, Doctor?”

  “Nearly twelve.”

  “Just right to be a dandy companion on a walking trip through the Black Forest. Let’s get started. You know my plan. Just wait thirty days, and then, if the other little boys and girls are helped as much as I hope they will be, give him his serum.”

  “Why not give it now, Mr. Biddle?” asked the Doctor.

  “Because he is my son. I have to be sure. All this work was done to restore him to normal mental health. If I give it to him and there are no results, life will not mean very much to me. I promised his mother before she died that I would try to help him. There must be no failure. I must be sure. I will be able to pass the sixty days very nicely. I have a lot to work over in my mind. I know you people, and I trust you to make a correct decision.”

  “Will you give us your address?” asked the Doctor.

  “No. I am giving that to no one. But I will be back in exactly thirty days after you give the boy his injection, sixty days from today; and now, Miss Gregory, will you let me give you the medicine?”

  Sixty days later, the scientist walked, unannounced, into Dr. Bonchields’ office.

  “Well, Doctor, how are the children?” he asked.

  The specialist looked up.

  “Oh! It is you, Mr. Biddle. The children? Why, they are all well. In fact, the children are very well.”

  “Did the serum work?”

  “Something did. Our boys and girls are normal, physically and mentally. The lame are walking, the blind seeing, the dumb talking. The idiots are learning to read and write. You never saw a healthier, happier, more intelligent lot of young people.”

  “That’s fine. Hurry and get the boy ready. I want to go right back to Quebec, and take the next boat for France.”

  “Your boy? Oh! I forgot. You see, we did not know where you were, so there was nothing to do; no way to let you know.”

  “Didn’t the serum help him?”

  “He never received it. We had arranged to give it on the thirtieth day according to your orders. The night before, he went into
a coma and, in a few minutes, he was gone. I saw him as soon as I could, but it was too late.”

  “Do you mean he is dead?” asked the puzzled scientist.

  “Yes. I am terribly sorry.”

  “And you did not give him the scrum?”

  “No. You see, he was dead before I could get to him.”

  “I wish you had given it to him anyway.”

  “But I didn’t know—you surely do not mean that the drug brings the dead back to life—not that, Mr. Biddle? Surely, not that?”

  “I don’t know. Perhaps it would have done no good.”

  “I am sorry.”

  “That is all right. But I wish you would have given it to him anyway, even if he was dead, even though it would not have helped him. Perhaps in some way he would have known about it; known that I had not forgotten him, known that I wanted him to have his chance, like the rest of the children. Perhaps his mother can explain it to him.”

  “Will you stay awhile with us? See the children?”

  “No,” replied Biddle. “I’ll be going, back to my place in Canada. You see, I have a lot of things to think about, now.”

  CHAPTER 16

  Life Is Different

  The Biddle Serum Bill, passed by Congress in record time, provided that every man, woman, and child in the United States should receive, free of charge, one dose of the serum. Where possible to do so, preference should be given to the sick and aged, and the little children. After that, everyone should be cared for.

  It was anticipated that there would be resistance from the antivivisectionists and certain religious organizations. This opposition was provided for in the bill. No one had to take the serum, but they could not refuse and continue their residence in the United States. It was believed that the greatest benefit could not be derived from the drug, if a residue of the population remained capable of contracting disease, becoming insane, or remaining social menaces.