“Yes, marijuana. But that was just one of the hallucinogens they worked with. Mescaline was another, and LSD, too. You’re probably not up on the subject, but the earliest advocates of the hallucinogens, as a means of expanding perception, such as Aldous Huxley, had a germ of reality in some of their crackpot beliefs. Obviously, it is, and always has been, possible to speed up your perception, brighten your wits, through the use of chemicals. Caffeine comes to mind, and nicotine, for that matter.”
He thought back for a moment, before going on. “There were other lines of investigation into the possibilities of increasing I.Q. At first they worked considerably with babies and children. Holger Hyden, a Swedish professor, was a pioneer. Influencing the child before it was ever born, he came up with one, Karl Ortel, who was answering the phone at the age of thirteen months and was speaking four languages at the age of three. Hyden’s super-children had an average vocabulary of two hundred words by eighteen months, as compared to six words for ordinary children. This meant their I.Q.s would be over the 140 level of genius and perhaps as high as 250. By the way, up until that time the highest I.Q. ever recorded was 205, attained by a California girl.”
“Kay,” Bert said impatiently. “As far back as several decades ago, they began making breakthroughs in bettering memory, increasing speed of perception and goosing along I.Q. So then…?”
“So then the curtain dropped.”
Jill, Jim and Bert all stared at him.
Kneedler said impatiently, “Can’t you see some of the implications?” He came to his feet and went over to the desk. He sat down before the library booster, activated and spoke into it.
He said, “This, for instance, was written some time ago by a Gerald Feinberg in his The Prometheus Project: ‘Suppose it were decided that children to be born in the future should be biologically modified so that their mental powers were greatly increased in such respects as much better memories, faster thought processes, ability to concentrate on a number of problems simultaneously, or any of the other mental abilities that men have wished for. It is likely that the intelligent children, once grown to maturity, would be somewhat impatient with a society designed for their more dull-witted ancestors and would set about changing it to fit their own needs… Such a confrontation between man and superman may be an extreme example of the consequences of biological engineering.’ ”
He called for another book and shortly began to read again.
“This comes from Professor Donald MacKay, of Keele University, in an article in Science Digest : The possibilities of misapplication of the results of brain science are already frightening to many people. Could it be, they ask, that here at last we face the ultimate Pandora’s Box, a secret whose uncovering would be the destruction of human society? Has brain research gone far enough, if not too far, already?’ ”
He returned to the couch, obviously gaining courage by the minute. He sat down again and looked at his audience defiantly. “Can’t you see? It is pure dynamite. Can you realize the changes that would take place in our society? Would we put up with the inept who now run the country? Who now run the economy? Would we put up with such anachronisms as the military, and a world divided into conflicting national states?”
Bert said suddenly, “If you’re a political economist, how come you’re so far up on this biological engineering subject?”
Kneedler all but glared at him. “Can’t you comprehend the ramifications so far as socio-economics are concerned? You grabbed onto the fact that I taught communism in one of my classes. How long do you think the government of the Soviet Complex would last if the average citizen had an I.Q. of 200?”
Jim grinned. “How long would our own government?”
The other turned to him and nodded. “Or any other in the world.”
Jill said, “But you and the others of your group. Where do you come in? What do you stand for?”
“An all-out investigation into all ramifications. This must be taken out from under wraps and released to all. We’re at the crossroads. It’s one of the most important crises that has ever touched the race and the details are in the hands of self-seeking bunglers.”
He got up from his seat again, went back to the library booster, and went through the routine of finding another quotation he wanted.
“Listen to this: ‘The ethical problems raised by genetics and neurophysiology, and by the social and mental sciences are at least as great as those arising from atomic energy and the H-Bomb, from space travel and ultrasonic flight, from telecommunications, computers and automation. There is no doubt in my mind that several of these developments are as epoch-making for mankind as any that have preceded them. They rank at least as high, if not higher, in importance than the discovery of the wheel.’ ” Kneedler looked at them. “That quotation comes from the British ethologist Dr. W. H. Thorpe of Cambridge University, one of the greatest authorities of his time on the subject.”
Bert said, “But what’s all this cloak and dagger stuff? This kidnapping of Jill? This going around armed, in a day when guns are taboo for the public? This hiding of the identity of your gang, and the rest of it?”
Kneedler looked at him indignantly. “Katz and his crew are out to get us. We’re the opposition. They’ve got to try to eliminate us.”
“But why?” Jill said, frowning. “What in the name of heavens is it that Katz wants?”
“He wants the knowledge for himself—and his group. And not for anyone else. They’re afraid to let it into the hands of anyone else. They’ve kept the developments suppressed for decades but you can’t keep human discoveries hidden indefinitely. And every year that goes by, still new discoveries are made. And always there is the lurking fear: suppose the Soviets or someone else hit upon the same information and released it to their people. What happens if, suddenly, their population or that of China begins averaging more than 200 in the way of I.Q. and also begins utilizing our new educational techniques so that in a matter of months they have educations that usually take twenty years to acquire?”
Bert shook his head in confusion. “The more I hear about all this, the more of a razzle it seems.”
“That makes two of us,” Jim said.
Bert came to a decision. “Look,” he said, “you get along. We know where we can get in touch with you. Tomorrow I’ll see Katz and check this out.”
Jim gestured at the assistant professor with his head. “Suppose he goes to Security?”
Bert looked at him. “He can’t. He’s in on it. He was up on the fact that Jill was going to be kidnapped. He’s involved. Not as badly as we are, but involved.”
Kneedler had returned to his seat, but now he stood. He said, “All right. There’s a good deal more to it, but it can wait until you’ve satisfied yourselves that Katz is an opportunist and one of the most dangerous men in the country.”
“Well see,” Bert told him. He led the other to the door and ushered him out.
When he returned to the living room, he was thoughtful. Jim Hawkins and Jill Masterson looked up at him. For a moment he paced the floor, fists jammed into jacket pockets.
He turned on them and demanded, “How did you two meet?”
Jim said, “Why, at a faculty party.” He leered at Jill. “It was love at first sight, eh, Sweetie Pie?”
She snorted.
“What were you doing at a faculty party?” Bert said.
His old sidekick was aggrieved. “Holy smokes, I don’t know. I figured I was a minor celebrity because of the war record. After all, I got a Medal of Honor too.”
Bert looked at Jill. “And you?”
She said, “Professor Katz invited me. We had already discussed the project and I was still deciding whether or not I wanted to take him up on it. Why?”
“It’s too much of a coincidence, you and me meeting so easily. Three hundred thousand persons in this university city and the only two students on Katz’ project meet in the first days of the semester. We were meant to meet, but they wanted to disguise the fact. You were intro
duced to my old buddy, who in turn introduced you to me. All, seemingly, coincidence.”
“But why?” she demanded.
“I don’t know,” he said. He looked out the window. It was dark, “I suppose we had better break it up until morning. If anything develops during the night, call me on your phone.”
“Or, better still, me,” Jim said. “I’m staying here.”
Bert looked at him.
Jim said, “We’re all in this together now. I’m staying near my old buddy, old buddy. Just like old times. A team. Seems to me you could use a man to cover your back.”
Bert came to a quick decision. “Kay,” he said. “Now let’s take a look at where our suites join. It occurs to me that they’ve already used one musher in this game. If they ring in another, you might not be able to call us.”
Jill said, indecision in her voice, ” I… I don’t know if I want to stay here at all. I don’t know if I want to associate with… with you two. I don’t like any of this.” She licked her lower lip nervously.
All right. She was only a kid. She’d never seen anyone shot before. She’d never come in contact with old pros like Bert and Jim. She’d never been exposed to extreme violence before. She was scared, and why not?
Bert said, “Jill, there are too many angles we don’t know about Too many people running around waving guns, and sometimes shooting them. The issues are evidently big, probably bigger than we realize at this stage of the game. I strongly suggest that you stay right next door, with Jim and me on hand, until we’ve been dealt more cards. You don’t have to like us. As you’ve made clear, we’re not particularly likable people. However, at least you can trust us. Among other things, lover boy, here, is in love with you.”
Without waiting for an answer he led the way into one of the bedrooms of his suite. “This must adjoin your place,” he said to Jill.
“I suppose so,” she said grudgingly.
Jim said, “Look, here’s a door. Evidently they can turn both suites into one if the V.I.P. is big enough.” He bent over the keyhole and then straightened, surprise on his face. “Devil! It’s open.” He swung the door free, and, sure enough, Jill’s apartment was on the other side.
Bert Alshuler looked at him indignantly. “Any door is open when you’re around,” he growled.
Chapter Twelve
After they had seen Jill safely to her quarters and checked the place out to be sure nobody was there, Bert Alshuler and Jim Hawkins returned to Suite G. Bert led the way into the dining room.
They sat at the table and Jim took in the menu on the screen. “Holy smokes,” he said in admiration. “The works.” He ordered enough exotic food for three persons and a bottle of vintage champagne.
“That’s all we need,” Bert growled. “To get smashed.” He ordered more moderately himself, conveniently forgetting his steak gorging of yesterday.
Jim ignored him. He said, “Old buddy, how’d you ever fall into this pool of crud and come out spittin’ pearls? Didn’t you have enough of being in the middle of messes in the war?”
“It turned out I was the smartest man in the army, so I was nominated.”
“Smartest man in the army, eh? Never noticed,” Jim said, working the cork out of the bottle of chilled wine. “You sure managed to hide the fact, old buddy. Remember that time in Brisbane those sharpies took away our whole taw with those crooked dice?”
“Shut up,” Bert said. “I’ve got to think.”
“And I’ve got to eat,” Jim said. “As an old hand doughboy, I’m smart enough to grub up on first rate chow when it’s available. Tomorrow well probably be back to hot dogs and beans.”
“Doughboy?”
Jim said cheerfully, “You’re sure not up on current slang, old buddy. The public called us doughboys in the First war, G.I.s in the Second and slobs in the Asian War. By that time they were getting tired of wars and heroes.”
“Shut up,” Bert muttered again.
They spent the night in the bedroom that adjoined Jill Masterson’s suite, their laser pistols on the tables that flanked their twin beds.
Like the old army men that they were, they awoke at dawn and decided not to bother the girl, who undoubtedly was more than ordinarily exhausted and could use the sleep. They had a glum breakfast, this time in the kitchen, Jim again ordering more expensive dishes than he could have possibly eaten. He had been about to order another bottle of champagne, but Bert sent him a sour look and he desisted.
After the meal, Bert led him into the study. Jim looked about and gave a low hiss of a whistle in appreciation of the elaborate layout.
Bert indicated the auto-teacher. “That’s what the whole razzle is about.”
“Looks like an ordinary auto-teacher to me. I took some courses in the army on them. They allow you to go as fast, or as slow as you want. Eliminates sitting around in classes with others who are either too smart or too stupid to go at the same rate you do.”
“Kay. But this is an auto-teacher with a difference. Sit down and watch. Get yourself something to read. You can read? You were a captain?”
“What’s that got to do with being able to read?” Jim said, aggrieved.
Bert went over to his pills and took one of the brown ones and headed back to his seat before the auto-teacher’s screen. He looked down at his watch. As expected, the second hand was crawling. He thought of something and got up again and crossed to where Jim had taken a comfort chair.
“Let’s see what time you’ve got?” he said, taking up the other’s wrist. Once again, as he had suspected, Jim’s second hand was also plodding along at a pace no faster than his own. He grunted satisfaction and returned to his chair.
“Holy… smokes… stop… dashing… around… and… stop… talking… so… fast… I… can hardly… understand… you,” Jim said, drawling it out so slowly as to be irritating.
Bert flicked on the screen and the robot voice said, “Elementary Physics, One and Two.” He pressed the page switch and took up his marking stylus. He sped things up as the brown pill took full effect, and then again, and again.
He didn’t notice his companion coming up behind him, standing there looking over his shoulder, until the other’s voice came dragging out.
“What… the… devil’s… going… on?”
“I’m studying physics. Sit down and I’ll tell you about it later.”
“Studying?… You… completely… around… the… bend?… You… couldn’t… even… turn… pages… that… fast… by… hand.”
“Sit down,” Bert ordered.
The other returned to his chair, walking very slowly, looking as though he were trudging his way through molasses.
Bert finished the book and went over to his pills and took one of the green ones. The reaction seemed to be all but instantaneous.
Jim was gaping at him. “Will you quit running around like that? You’re making me dizzy.”
Bert settled himself across from Jim. “I just finished a course in Elementary Physics, One and Two.”
Jim was blank. “One and Two? You mean a whole year?”
“Yes.”
“Aw, come off it, Killer. I took physics last year and just managed to squeeze through. It’s all great with these kids, but old duffers like us have got out of the studying habit.”
“Kay. So you’ve taken the same course, eh? Ask me some questions.”
“Okay, smarty pants. Describe the third law of thermodynamics.”
“It states that every substance has a definite entropy, that is availability of energy to do work, that approaches zero as its temperature approaches absolute zero. As the energy becomes unavailable the entropy is said to increase. You want me to go further into it? I can quote you by the page from V. N. Faires, A. L. King, Doolittle or Zerbon.”
“Don’t bother,” Jim muttered. “Describe the principle of operation of a photoelectric cell.”
Bert did.
Jim was staring in absolute disbelief. “And you expect me to believe you got
all that in less than a couple of hours?”
“You know this is my freshman year. Where would I have picked up college level physics?”
Jim was silent for several minutes, his face still registering his disbelief. Finally, he said, “What was all that running around like a whirling dervish, and talking like a speeded up old-time tape recorder?”
Bert stood and went over to the table that bore his pill bottles. He held them up. “As Professor Marsh put it, the brown ones turn you on, the green ones turn you off.”
Jim took the brown bottle and shook out one of the pills and stared at it. “You mean, all I have to do is chomp one of these and I speed up to the point where I can take on a year’s course in a couple of hours? Devil! I’ll give it a try.”
“Oh, no you don’t,” Bert said hurriedly. “That’s not the whole treatment. I’ve been taking a series of shots, too. This stuff isn’t to be messed around with. I made the mistake of taking a drink while I was high on one of these brown bombers and it knocked me for a razzle that lasted until morning. I don’t know what might happen to you if you took it without the preliminary shots.”
Bert returned the pill to the bottle and screwed the lid back on.
Jim was frustrated. “Holy smokes, and Jill’s in on this same deal? In a week, she’ll be so smart I won’t be able to talk to her.”
“Evidently she is,” Bert said, looking at his watch. “Let’s give old Marsh a try.”
He went over to the phone screen and tried to get the professor, without result. The other had evidently put a really tight priority rating on his phone.
Bert Alshuler leaned back to think, but then his own phone screen hummed. He activated it. The face of Leonard Katz was there and his rueful smile on it.
Bert snapped, “What’s so funny?”
Katz said, “I’ve just heard from Ralph Marsh. You must think that we’ve taken inadequate provisions for… your project.”
“That’s one way of putting it,” Bert said sarcastically. “Kay, Professor. Let’s get together. There are a few things to be discussed. But first, are you in a position to take care of… that situation that developed yesterday?”
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