by Robin Cook
“Fathers can have a big effect on kids,” Edward said. “I had a similar compulsion to please my father. When I think about it, it was kind of crazy. I should have just ignored him. The problem was that he made fun of me because of my stutter and lack of ability in competitive sports. I suppose I was a disappointment to him.”
They arrived at the castle, and Kim pulled up next to Edward’s car. Edward started to get out, but then he sat back in the seat.
“Have you eaten?” he asked.
Kim shook her head.
“Me neither,” he said. “Why don’t we drive into Salem and see if we can find a decent restaurant?”
“You’re on,” Kim said.
They drove out of the compound and headed toward town. Kim was the first to speak. “I attribute my lack of social confidence in college directly to my relationship with my parents,” she said. “Could it have been the same for you?”
“I wouldn’t doubt it,” Edward said.
“It’s amazing how important self-esteem is,” Kim said, “and it’s a little scary how easily it can be undermined with children.”
“Even with adults,” Edward said. “And once it is undermined it affects behavior, which in turn affects self-esteem. The problem is that it can become functionally autonomous and biochemically determined. That’s the argument for drugs: to break the vicious cycle.”
“Are we talking about Prozac again?” Kim asked.
“Indirectly,” Edward said. “Prozac can positively affect self-esteem in some patients.”
“Would you have taken Prozac in college if it had been available?” Kim asked.
“I might have,” Edward admitted. “It would have made a difference in my experience.”
Kim glanced briefly across at Edward. She had the feeling he’d just told her something personal. “You don’t have to answer this,” she said, “and maybe I shouldn’t ask, but have you ever tried Prozac yourself?”
“I don’t mind answering,” Edward said. “I did use it for a time a couple of years ago. My father died, and I became moderately depressed. It was a reaction I didn’t expect considering our history. A colleague suggested I try Prozac, and I did.”
“Did it help the depression?” Kim asked.
“Most definitely,” Edward said. “Not immediately but eventually. But most interestingly it also gave me an unexpected dose of assertiveness. I’d not anticipated it, so it couldn’t have been a placebo effect. I also liked it.”
“Any side effects?” Kim asked.
“A few,” Edward said. “But nothing terrible and certainly acceptable in relation to the depression.”
“Interesting,” Kim said sincerely.
“I hope my admission of psychotropic drug use in the face of your pharmacological Puritanism doesn’t alarm you.”
“Don’t be silly,” Kim said. “Quite the contrary. I respect your forthrightness. Besides, who would I be to judge? I’ve never taken Prozac, but I did have some psychotherapy during college. I’d say that makes us even.”
Edward laughed. “Right!” he said. “We’re both crazy!”
They found a small, popular local restaurant that served fresh fish. It was crowded, and they were forced to sit on stools at the bar. They each had baked scrod and iced mugs of draft beer. For dessert there was old-fashioned Indian pudding with ice cream.
After the boisterous publike atmosphere they both enjoyed the silence of the car as they drove back to the compound. However, as they passed through the gate, Kim sensed that Edward had become demonstrably nervous. He fidgeted, brushing his hair off his forehead.
“Is something wrong?” Kim asked.
“No,” Edward said, but his stutter had returned.
Kim pulled up next to his car. She put on the emergency brake but left the engine running. She waited, knowing there was something on Edward’s mind.
Edward finally blurted out: “Would you like to come over to my apartment when we get back to the city?”
The invitation threw Kim into a quandary. She sensed the courage it took for Edward to invite her, and she didn’t want him to feel rejected. At the same time she thought of the needs of the patients she’d be facing in the morning. Ultimately her professionalism won out. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s a bit too late tonight. I’m exhausted; I’ve been up since six.” In an attempt to make light of the situation she added: “Besides, it’s a school night and I haven’t finished my homework.”
“We could turn in early,” Edward said. “It is just a little after nine.”
Kim was both surprised and uneasy. “I think maybe things are moving a little too swiftly for me,” she said. “I’ve felt very comfortable with you, but I don’t want to rush things.”
“Of course,” Edward said. “Obviously I’ve also felt comfortable with you.”
“I do enjoy your company,” Kim said. “And I’m off Friday and Saturday this week if that works with your schedule.”
“How about dinner on Thursday night?” Edward said. “It won’t be a school night.”
Kim laughed. “It’ll be a pleasure,” she said. “And I’ll make it a point to have all my homework done.”
4
* * *
Friday,
July 22, 1994
KIM’S eyes blinked open. At first she was disoriented. She didn’t know where she was. There were unfamiliar shutters over the windows dispersing the early morning light. Turning her head to the side, she saw Edward’s sleeping form, and it all came back to her in a flash.
Kim drew the sheet up around her neck. She felt distinctly uneasy and out of place. “You hypocrite,” she silently voiced to herself. She could remember just a few days previously telling Edward she didn’t want to rush things, and here she was waking up in his bed. Kim had never been in a relationship which had proceeded to such intimacy so quickly.
As quietly as possible, Kim tried to slip out of the bed with the intention of dressing before Edward woke up. But it was not to be. Edward’s small, white, and rather nasty Jack Russell terrier growled and bared his teeth. His name was Buffer. He was at the foot of the bed.
Edward sat up and shooed the dog away. With a groan he fell back against the pillow.
“What time is it?” he asked. He’d closed his eyes.
“It’s a little after six,” Kim said.
“Why are you awake so early?” Edward asked.
“I’m used to it,” Kim said. “This is my normal wakeup time.”
“But it was almost one when we came to bed.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Kim said. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have stayed.”
Edward opened his eyes and looked at Kim. “Do you feel uncomfortable?” he asked.
Kim nodded.
“I’m sorry,” Edward said. “I shouldn’t have talked you into it.”
“It’s not your fault,” Kim said.
“But it was your inclination to go,” Edward said. “It was my fault.”
They looked at each other for a beat, then both smiled.
“This is sounding a bit repetitious,” Kim said with a chuckle. “We’re back to competing with each other with apologies.”
“It would be funny if it weren’t so pitiful,” Edward said. “You’d think we would have made some progress by now.”
Kim moved over and they put their arms around each other. They didn’t talk for a moment as they enjoyed the embrace. It was Edward who broke the silence. “Do you still feel uncomfortable?”
“No,” Kim said. “Sometimes merely talking about something really helps.”
Later while Edward was in the shower, Kim called her roommate, Marsha, whom she knew would be about to leave for work. Marsha was glad to hear from her and voiced a modicum of concern that Kim had failed to come home or call the previous evening.
“I should have called,” Kim admitted.
“I take it the evening was a success,” Marsha said coyly.
“It was fine,” Kim said. “It just got so
late, and I didn’t want to take the risk of waking you up.”
“Oh, sure!” Marsha said with exaggerated sarcasm.
“Would you give Sheba some food?” Kim added, changing the subject. Marsha knew her too well.
“Your cat has already dined,” Marsha said. “The only other news is that you got a call last night from your father. He wants you to call him when you have a chance.”
“My father?” Kim questioned. “He never calls.”
“You don’t have to tell me,” Marsha said. “I’ve been your roommate for years, and it was the first time I spoke with him on the phone.”
After Edward got out of the shower and dressed, he surprised Kim by suggesting they go to Harvard Square for breakfast. Kim had imagined he’d want to go directly to his lab.
“I’m up two hours before I expected to be,” Edward said. “The lab can wait. Also, it’s been the most pleasant evening of the year and I don’t want it to be over.”
With a smile on her face, Kim put her arms around Edward’s neck and gave him a forceful hug. She had to stand on her tiptoes in the process. He returned the affection with equal exuberance.
They used Kim’s car since it had to be moved; it was illegally parked outside Edward’s apartment. In the square Edward took her to a student greasy spoon where they indulged themselves with scrambled eggs, bacon, and coffee.
“What are your plans today?” Edward asked. He had to speak loudly over the general din. Summer session at the university was in full swing.
“I’m heading up to Salem,” Kim said. “They’ve started the construction on the cottage. I want to check on the progress.” Kim had decided to call the old house “the cottage” in contrast to the castle.
“When do you plan to get back?”
“Early evening,” Kim said.
“How about meeting at the Harvest Bar around eight?” Edward said.
“It’s a date,” Kim said.
After breakfast Edward asked Kim to drop him off at the Harvard biological labs.
“You don’t want me to take you home to get your car?” she asked.
“No, thanks,” Edward said. “There’d be no place to park it here on the main campus. To get to work I’ll take the shuttle over to the medical area. I do it frequently. It’s part of the benefit of living within walking distance of the square.”
Edward had Kim drop him off at the corner of Kirkland Street and Divinity Avenue. He stood on the sidewalk and waved until she was out of sight. He knew he was in love, and he loved the feeling. Turning around, he started up Divinity Avenue. He felt like singing. What made him feel so good was that he was beginning to think that Kim felt affection for him. All he could do was hope that it would last. He thought about the flowers he was having sent every day and wondered if he were overdoing it. The problem was, he didn’t have a lot of experience with such things.
Arriving at the biological labs, Edward checked the time; it was before eight. As he climbed the stairs he worried he’d have to wait for Kevin Scranton. But his concerns were unfounded. Kevin was there.
“I’m glad you stopped in,” Kevin said. “I was going to call you today.”
“Did you find Claviceps purpurea?” Edward asked hopefully.
“Nope,” Kevin said. “No Claviceps.”
“Damn!” Edward said. He slumped into a chair. There was a disappointed, sinking sensation in his stomach. He’d been banking on a positive result and was counting on it mainly for Kim’s sake. He’d wanted to present it to her as a gift of science to help alleviate Elizabeth’s disgrace.
“Don’t look so glum,” Kevin said. “There wasn’t any Claviceps, but there was plenty of other mold. One of them that grew out morphologically resembles Claviceps purpurea, but it is a heretofore unknown species.”
“No kidding,” Edward commented. He brightened at the thought that at least they’d made a discovery.
“Of course that’s not terribly surprising,” Kevin said, causing Edward’s face to fall again. “Currently there are approximately fifty thousand known species of fungi. At the same time some people believe that one hundred thousand to a quarter of a million species actually exist.”
“So you’re trying to tell me that this isn’t a monumental discovery,” Edward commented wryly.
“I’m not making any value judgment,” Kevin said. “But it’s a mold that you might find interesting. It’s an ascomycete, like Claviceps, and it happens to form sclerotia just like Claviceps.”
Kevin reached across his desk and dropped several small dark objects into Edward’s palm. Edward nudged them with his index finger. They appeared like dark grains of rice.
“I think you better tell me what these sclerotia are,” Edward said.
“They’re a type of vegetative, resting spore of certain fungi,” Kevin said. “They’re different than a simple, unicellular spore because sclerotia are multicellular and contain fungal filaments or hyphae as well as stored food.”
“What makes you think I’d be interested in these things?” Edward asked. He thought they also looked like the seeds in rye bread. He brought one to his nose; it was odorless.
“Because it’s the Claviceps’ sclerotia that contain the bioactive alkaloids that cause ergotism,” Kevin said.
“Wow!” Edward said. He sat up straight and studied the sclerotium between his fingers with additional interest. “What are the chances that this little bugger contains the same alkaloids as Claviceps?”
“That, I believe, is the question of the day,” Kevin said. “Personally, I think the chances are reasonably good. There aren’t many fungi that produce sclerotia. Obviously this new species is related to Claviceps purpurea on some level.”
“Why don’t we try it?” Edward said.
“What on earth do you mean?” Kevin asked. He eyed Edward with suspicion.
“Why don’t we make a little brew with these guys and taste it?” Edward said.
“You’re joking, I hope,” Kevin said.
“Actually I’m not,” Edward said. “I’m interested in whether this new mold makes an alkaloid that has a hallucinogenic effect. The best way to figure that out is to try it.”
“You’re out of your mind,” Kevin said. “Mycotoxins can be quite potent, as those countless people who’ve suffered ergotism can testify. Science is finding new ones all the time. You’d be taking an awful risk.”
“Where’s your adventuresome spirit?” Edward asked teasingly. He stood up. “Can I use your lab for this little experiment?”
“I’m not sure I should be party to this,” Kevin said. “But you’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Very much so,” Edward said.
Kevin led Edward into his lab and asked him what he needed. Edward said he needed a mortar and pestle or the equivalent, distilled water, a weak acid to precipitate the alkaloid, some filter paper, a liter flask, and a milliliter pipette.
“This is insane,” Kevin said as he rounded up the materials.
Edward set to work by grinding up the few sclerotia, extracting the pulp with distilled water, and precipitating a tiny amount of white material with the weak acid. With the help of the filter paper, he isolated a few grains of the white precipitate. Kevin watched the procedure with a mixture of disbelief and wonder.
“Don’t tell me you are just going to eat that?” Kevin said with growing alarm.
“Oh, come on,” Edward said. “I’m not stupid.”
“You could have fooled me,” Kevin said.
“Listen,” Edward said. “I’m interested in a hallucinogenic effect. If this stuff is going to have such an effect, it will have it at a minuscule dose. I’m talking about less than a microgram.”
Edward took a speck of the precipitate on the end of a spatula and introduced it into a liter of distilled water in a volumetric flask. He shook it vigorously.
“We could screw around with this stuff for six months and still not know if it can cause hallucinations,” Edward said. “Ultimately we’d ne
ed a human cerebrum. Mine is available right at the moment. When it comes to science, I’m a man of action.”
“What about possible kidney toxicity?” Kevin asked.
Edward made an expression of exasperated disbelief. “At this dosage? Hell, no! We’re well below by a factor of ten the toxicity range of botulinum toxin, the most toxic substance known to man. Besides, not only are we in the microgram range with this unknown, but it’s got to be a soup of substances, so the concentration of any one of them is that much lower.”
Edward asked Kevin to hand him the milliliter pipette. Kevin did so reluctantly.
“Are you sure you don’t want to join?” Edward asked. “You could be missing out on making an interesting scientific discovery.” He laughed as he filled the slender pipette.
“Thanks, but no thanks,” Kevin said. “I have a comfortable understanding with my renal tubular cells that we won’t abuse each other.”
“To your health,” Edward said as he held aloft the pipette for a moment before depositing a single milliliter on the curl of his tongue. He took a mouthful of water, swished it around, and swallowed.
“Well?” Kevin questioned nervously after a moment of silence.
“A tiny, tiny bit bitter,” Edward said. He opened and closed his mouth a few times to enhance the taste.
“Anything else?” Kevin asked.
“I’m just beginning to feel mildly dizzy,” Edward said.
“Hell, you were dizzy before you started,” Kevin said.
“I admit this little experiment lacks scientific controls,” Edward said with a chuckle. “Anything I feel could be a placebo effect.”
“I really shouldn’t be a part of this,” Kevin said. “I’m going to have to insist that you get a urinalysis and a BUN this afternoon.”
“Ohooo weee,” Edward said. “Something is happening!”
“Oh, God!” Kevin said. “What?”
“I’m seeing a flood of colors that are moving around in amoeboid shapes like some kind of kaleidoscope.”
“Oh, great!” Kevin said. He stared into Edward’s face, which had assumed a trancelike appearance.
“Now I’m hearing some sounds like a synthesizer. Also my mouth is a bit dry. And now something else: I feel paresthesias on my arms, as if I’m being bitten or lightly pinched. It’s weird.”