CONDITION – Book One: A Medical Miracle

by Alec Birri

  He glanced at Alex and Father Francis. ‘Because the benefits outweigh the risks. Six months ago, the last time any of the patients even recognised, let alone had a sensible conversation with, their loved ones, was at least five years previously.’ He turned towards the public and press again. ‘I fail to see how anyone could remain unmoved after witnessing such an emotional reunion.’ He stood up. ‘If you could have seen, as I have, the joy a simple pleasure that you and I take for gran—’

  The gavel was banged once more. ‘Sit down, Sir John! I won’t tell you again.’

  Savage capitulated with a gesture Uriah Heap would have been proud of. He mocked contrition. ‘If I may continue?’

  Lady Amali gave a single but stern nod of her head.

  ‘Clear emotional benefits aside, quality of life has also been dramatically transformed. Again, six months ago, all of the trial patients were bedridden and completely unable to care for themselves or perform the simplest of tasks. They can now not only feed and dress with the minimum of assistance, but actively engage socially too. Indeed, if it were not for their secondary medical conditions, all would be perfectly capable of returning to whatever active life Alzheimer’s had forced them to leave behind. Which brings me to my penultimate point.’

  He went to stand again, but stopped as the chair raised the gavel and glared at him.

  ‘Dementia currently costs the NHS and social services twenty-six billion pounds a year. Should the board sanction my procedure, that bill would be virtually eliminated within months.’

  A louder conversation began and Lady Amali had to bang the gavel several times to bring the room to order. The hacks took out their mobile phones and tapped at them. The professor imagined the texts to be something like “Hold the front page”.

  ‘Sir John, are you seriously suggesting an extremely undesirable aspect of your treatment should be accepted just because it saves money?’

  She had to bring the room to order again. Savage sensed a division opening amongst those present. They eventually settled.

  ‘I’m suggesting the thoughts of suicide should be managed as part of normal palliative care – just as it is in any aged individual not having undergone the procedure. This is only an issue with the trial patients because they are all approaching the end of their normal lives anyway. Dementia is usually diagnosed some two to three decades earlier than this, so I would expect those sufferers to readily embrace their new selves. Without wishing to appear cold, once the current elderly generation is no longer with us, concerns with my treatment will cease.’

  He saw his friend, Tarquin, wince as a member of the public shouted out: ‘Yeah, just bury the mistakes.’

  The heckler’s comments set the public off again and the board used the noise as cover while they conferred for a few seconds. The chair brought the proceedings back under control.

  ‘You said “penultimate”?’

  Savage looked at Lady Amali and she repeated the question.

  ‘You said: “which brings me to my penultimate point”. So, what is your final point?’

  Savage regarded the press again. He had intended to announce the successful transformation of the three notorious 1960s gangsters into what would now appear to be model citizens, but thought he’d said enough. No point in complicating matters at this stage. He glanced at Alex again before reneging on what he had promised he would say the day the treatment became public.

  ‘Nothing. I must have been mistaken.’

  Alex glared at him as someone shouted: ‘Too right, mate. Who do you think you are? God?’

  The medical board elected to adjourn until a later date and Lady Amali banged the gavel to end proceedings. The noise of it was lost in the melee that followed. She stood up to leave and the press surrounded the professor. He ignored their questions while ensuring the cameras caught his best side. There was a parting of the waves as Alex forced her wheelchair through the throng until she was within earshot.

  ‘Coward!’

  She spun round to barge her way back out again. It was the chaplain’s turn next.

  ‘You lied to God, Sir John, and he won’t forget that!’

  He followed Alex out of the room.

  The press left when they thought they had everything they were going to get and Tarquin approached. ‘So, how do you think the papers will view you tomorrow, eh, John? My guess is page three of the broadsheets, but the front pages of the red-tops, will split you firmly fifty~fifty – hero on the right, villain of the piece on the left.’ He seemed to think he knew why the surgeon’s popularity wasn’t greater. ‘When are you going to learn that saying things like “without wishing to appear cold” makes you look like the iceberg that sank the Titanic?’

  Savage closed his briefcase and gave his friend a look that was just as frozen. ‘The gentlemen of the press will make of this what they will, but you and I both know it will boil down to the politics of the money – is an annual saving of twenty-six billion pounds worth putting up with the embarrassment of a few old dears packing their bags for Switzerland? Or, as our cerebrally challenged friend unwittingly grunted earlier, can any mistakes be both literally and metaphorically buried by other bad news?’

  Tarquin lowered his voice. ‘I’m glad you decided not to mention the separate success with the less desirable characters on your trial. Recovering someone’s mind is one thing, but deliberately manipulating it is quite another.’

  The eminent neurologist smiled at the Business Secretary. ‘Money will still talk, Tarquin.’

  Chapter Twenty-one

  ‘So, how are my lab rats coming along?’

  The doctor had always assumed Professor Savage was joking whenever he said that, but he wasn’t so sure now. That morning’s newspapers lay on the professor’s desk and Savage featured prominently on the front pages of most of them. Headlines like ‘HEARTLESS!’ and ‘BREAKTHROUGH!’ predominated.

  Adams updated him on the patients’ progress. ‘They’ve all now accepted their new selves. The pre-existing secondary conditions and thoughts of so-called rational suicide are the only remaining issues.’

  The nation’s newest love~hate figure smiled. ‘And Cecil?’

  The doctor skewed his head to one side. ‘Don’t you mean Mr Passen?’

  ‘Oh, yes – my apologies. Force of habit.’

  The doctor’s concerns with the professor’s ethics increased. ‘I’ve told his family the end of the week, but I’ll be surprised if he’s still with us tomorrow morning.’

  His superior took in the front page of the Morning Star. It was the only paper that didn’t have a picture of him – the Green Party’s newest MP occupied it instead. Savage passed comment.

  ‘Not the most flattering of news items, I’m afraid. Ms Salib seems determined to get her way. You’d think she’d be grateful for a chance to resurrect her beloved Voluntary Euthanasia Bill.’ He looked back up at the doctor. ‘We can’t keep relying on the Swiss to do it for us.’

  Adams used the mention of euthanasia as an excuse to raise what was troubling him. ‘Sir John, I take it we can be confident that a patient electing to engage with an organisation like Dignitas is genuinely doing so of their own free will?’

  An uncomfortable silence followed. The professor offered him a seat.

  ‘My dear chap, something appears to be troubling you. How can I be of help?’

  Adams sat down. ‘The newspapers refer to the second phase of suicidal thoughts as a side-effect, but I’m not so sure it is.’

  Savage leaned back in his chair, made a steeple out of his fingers and placed them under his chin. ‘Tell me. What has led you to come to such a disturbing notion?’

  The doctor explained his concern. ‘We’ve always known the trial would result in the test subjects having at least some of the personality traits of the donor but, rather than producing a
kind of hybrid, it’s clear an entirely new character has emerged in each of them.’

  ‘Really, Doctor, I’m surprised. You of all people should know how unpredictable the field of neurology is.’

  ‘That’s my point, Sir John. It appears to be anything but.’

  Another embarrassing silence followed. The professor invited his colleague to go on.

  ‘The trial drug was designed to meld the two minds together, so we’ve reported all physical and psychological recovery as progress. However, that was only because it was measured against our understanding of what constitutes normal behaviour – recognition of family members, able to feed oneself, make decisions, etcetera. But when their pre-dementia lives are factored in, a very different and, I have to say, perturbing pattern emerges.’

  The professor looked at his aquarium while the doctor elaborated.

  ‘It would appear that any political or religious affinity held in the past has not just changed, but been completely reversed in the process.’

  Savage got up and walked over to the tank. The doctor followed him.

  ‘Sir John, the patients’ previous interests and beliefs weren’t just casual – they were all individually active in their chosen fields and together formed a broad spectrum of nearly every social or theological belief in society. Which is too much of a coincidence for them not to have been chosen for those reasons alone.’ He readied himself for the accusation he was about to make. ‘Sir John, did you deliberately select the test subjects because you not only wanted to treat their dementia, but the way they thought, too?’

  Savage studied his specimens. Two Siamese fighting fish entered a short tussle with each other and he grinned. He turned to face the doctor and dropped the smile.

  ‘I’m not interested in treating dementia.’

  The words stunned Adams. Savage didn’t seem to be in the least bit concerned with the ethical implications of what he’d just said. His next statement was no less disturbing.

  ‘Did you know goldfish only have a memory of a few seconds? It’s nonsense, of course, a bit like an elephant never forgetting, but the one thing I have always admired about the less cerebral passengers on this planet is that they never use violence or coercion for religious, political, or ideological reasons – just survival.’ He stared at his fish taking the occasional swipe at each other. ‘Imagine if people could be made to think the same way.’

  Adams took a couple of steps back from the man he thought he knew. ‘Sir John, whatever wider application you think the treatment for Alzheimer’s has to offer, society will never accept artificial manipulation of a person’s beliefs, no matter what the benefit.’

  The professor recovered his smile and seemed to change the subject. ‘I hear congratulations are in order! Finally – a chance to open the Glenmorangie!’

  He strode over to the drinks cabinet, the sudden change of tone catching the doctor off-guard for a moment.

  ‘I’m sorry, Sir John, but I’m going to have to report this.’

  Savage pulled the doors of the cabinet open and reached for two glasses. ‘No need; I did that some weeks ago.’

  Adams frowned. ‘To whom?’

  ‘Those who need to know – GMC, NICE, Health Secretary, Home Secretary, opposition parties, that sort of level.’

  The frown turned to puzzlement. ‘What was their response?’

  The whisky was uncorked and the aroma savoured. ‘Same as you, of course – complete and utter horror. Especially poor Ms Salib.’

  The doctor looked at Alex’s picture on the front page of the Morning Star. ‘You told her? A far-left politician?’

  The professor offered him a glass. ‘Perhaps you would have preferred I just inform the incumbent right-wing government how best to ensure its citizens conform to their way of thinking?’

  The doctor took the whisky. ‘No, but…’

  ‘Congratulations! Here’s to the happy couple.’

  The glasses clinked but Adams couldn’t summon any enthusiasm, managing only a weak, ‘Thank you.’

  The professor closed his eyes. ‘Strange how love can completely alter one’s mind.’ He opened them again and looked at the doctor’s forehead. ‘One minute a carefree bachelor, the next an obedient husband.’

  Adams scoffed at the implied analogy. ‘There’s a huge difference between nature’s subtle persuasions and direct interference, Professor.’

  Savage nodded. ‘Oh, I agree. Which is why I thought it best to allow our elected peers to choose the way forward. After all, in the wrong hands, the treatment could be extremely dangerous.’

  The doctor became agitated. ‘The way forward is obvious – it has to be made illegal.’

  ‘Oh, come now, Doctor. It’s no different to any other medical discovery. It just needs to be applied correctly.’

  Adams put down his glass. ‘Applied correctly? Is that what you call changing a founding member of CND into a Nazi? Correcting her?’

  Savage poured himself another whisky. ‘Alice is over one hundred years old. She’s hardly likely to start the Fourth Reich. And, anyway, as a psychologist I’m sure even you can appreciate my need to explore the possibilities to their fullest extent.’ He walked back over to the doctor. ‘Strange how I don’t hear you protesting about the National Front fascist thug turned pacifist?’

  Adams fumbled his reply. ‘Well, that’s different.’

  ‘Is it really? What were the words you used just now? “Society will never accept artificial manipulation of a person’s beliefs no matter what the benefit.”’

  The doctor felt he was being manipulated himself in some way.

  The professor appeared to sympathise with his predicament. ‘Don’t worry, Doctor. The government feels exactly the same, which is why they wish to proceed with a new trial featuring some of the many unfortunates currently residing at Her Majesty’s pleasure.’ He picked up the doctor’s glass and offered it back to him. ‘I wonder what menagerie of miscreants our lords and potential masters will select? The far-right will predictably want some wretched but indigenous Afro-Caribbean made to think he or she should return to the birthplace of their ancestors, whereas Ms Salib will be equally boring in insisting some billionaire jailed for corruption is encouraged to give all his money away. The democratic process should result in the attendance of young Muslim fundamentalists requiring deradicalisation, but the realist in me thinks we’ll probably end up turning yet more white male middle-class rapists and murderers into everyone’s favourite uncle. How dull.’

  The doctor ignored his glass. ‘No matter how sensible turning a convicted criminal into a law-abiding citizen sounds, it’s still brainwashing and the public won’t accept it.’

  Savage placed both glasses on his desk and sat down at it. ‘I told the medical board yesterday that if it sanctions the treatment for Alzheimer’s disease, the taxpayer will save twenty-six billion pounds almost overnight. Do you know how much would be saved if all the prisons were to close?’

  Adams didn’t respond.

  ‘More than twice that.’

  The doctor started to say something but the professor interrupted him.

  ‘And that’s just the post-conviction costs. Imagine if pre-conviction was made a thing of the past too? What if the law courts, prosecution services, probation…?’ He stood up again. ‘Even the police were no longer required?’

  Savage paused to look at the two fighting fish squaring up to each other again. ‘What do you think your precious public would make of no more theft, no more rape, and no more murder?’ He narrowed his eyes at the doctor. ‘What do you think they would make of no more war?’

  Adams tried to reason with him. ‘Professor, as a psychologist, of course I’m professionally interested to see if the treatment could be altruistically applied elsewhere, but just as prefrontal lobotomy was once accepted an
d then utterly discredited as a means to control mental illness, so will this be. It’s just too short a step to a dystopian society of blind obedience. The world won’t accept it.’

  The professor sighed. ‘If I’d told you a year ago I intended conducting surgery on fifteen fit and healthy young men and women just so I could prove their politics could be reversed, would you have even allowed it to happen, let alone become involved?’

  The doctor didn’t answer.

  ‘So I decided to make it more palatable for everyone by choosing fifteen decrepit geriatrics and presenting it as a treatment for dementia instead.’ He held up two of the most favourable tabloids. ‘Incredible thing the human brain, Doctor. Even non-intrusive methods of brainwashing can be highly effective at getting one’s own way. Just ask Nurse Roberts.’

  Adams became angry. ‘You didn’t answer my question – are the patients’ thoughts of suicide truly their own?’

  Savage grinned. ‘All lab rats end up in the furnace, James.’

  To be continued…

  Epilogue

  Brian ran his fingers through Claire’s hair and cupped her face with his hands. ‘Oh, darling, it’s so wonderful to see you again. I’ve missed you so much.’ He kissed her on the lips before sitting back and trying to take in as much of her as he could. He couldn’t. He was just so happy. Happier than he’d ever been. ‘Am I dead?’

  Claire smiled and nodded.

  ‘So, is this Heaven?’

  She nodded again.

  ‘Oh, I think I may have been a bit rude to, er, God.’

  He glanced around as if expecting to be struck down at any second. His wife laughed at him.

  ‘Don’t worry, Brian. I’m sure he’ll forgive you.’

  ‘So, he does exist then?’

  ‘Beats me. I’ve never seen him.’ She pulled him close and buried her head in his chest.