CHAPTER 9
The refreshing water of the shower had a magic effect on David’s body and mind. The cool drops falling on his skin brought him back from the world of the primeval jungle to the world of civilisation. He directed the shower onto his head. Cold streams of water ran down his face, along his shoulders and further down his body. This massage of coolness did not bring any unpleasant sensations; on the contrary, the cold jets were like the arms of mythical nymphs caressing David’s body. He allowed himself to relax for a second.
But only for a second, then he got a grip on himself. The problems were only just beginning; he had to prepare himself for a long life-and-death struggle out in the concrete jungle. To relax now, after just a few hours not even at the heart of things but somewhere at the edge, was totally inappropriate. The coming days, months, years, maybe the rest of his life, would have to be spent constantly on the alert. Whatever pleasure the shower had given David by taking him into a world of dreams, it was time to return to stern reality. He had to gather his strength and turn off the water. Just another second or two...
David closed his eyes and allowed himself a few more seconds to enjoy the blessed interlude. Then he turned off the water.
After drying himself briskly with a towel, he stepped out of the bath. His bare foot came to rest on a velvet bath mat spread out by Dr. Silverman. Everything in this apartment was urging him to relax... Unfortunately, David realised that this oasis of comfort had no future. He could not stay long at the epicentre of this former civilisation, transformed in an instant into primeval chaos.
Coming out of the bathroom, he found himself in a dark corridor, at the end of which he could see a dim light. It appeared to be coming from the kitchen, where someone could be heard setting out plates and cutlery. David went towards the sound.
With an apron around his waist, his new friend was busying himself laying the table in a practised manner. Almost everything was ready. Dishes, glasses, a bottle of wine, candles. Their dim light illuminated a spacious kitchen, and their flame fluttered as Silverman quickly and precisely finished laying. It was obvious he knew what he was doing. Noticing his guest, he stopped. His face broke into a smile.
“Please, come in. I have a marvellous goose left over from yesterday, the meat simply melts in the mouth! Sit down, please!”
David, rather surprised at such hospitality, decided to dispense with polite formalities and walked over to the place at the table indicated by Dr. Silverman. The old man did not seem to realise what a dire situation he was in, if he set such a lavish table as this for a stranger. It was certainly polite, but it was stupid. Nevertheless, it would have been even more stupid to turn down the opportunity.
The apartment owner understood David’s thoughts.
“I have a full refrigerator, but unfortunately there is no electricity. All its contents will turn into inedible waste in a short time, so considering the circumstances, the only thing we can do is eat it all up. Our body knows well how to store energy, so we shall try to put on a little weight while it is still possible.”
The first piece of meat, filling David’s mouth with a fabulous aroma, made his body remember how hungry he was. Scorning etiquette, he cut huge pieces with his knife, put them in his mouth and chewed greedily.
Silverman did not waste time making polite conversation either. They ate in total silence, which seemed perfectly acceptable in the circumstances. In any case, it did not cause them any embarrassment.
Eventually David felt a pleasant heaviness in his stomach. The feeling of hunger had passed and his mood had changed, too. Silverman, noticing this change, set down his knife and fork and picked up his glass of wine. Holding it in front of the candle to admire its dark red colour, he swirled it around, the better to assess its bouquet.
“As I promised, I shall give you one of my guns and a box of cartridges,” he said after taking a small sip.
David had just finished all the food on his plate. After chewing and swallowing the last piece, he tried the wine and nodded approvingly.
“Thank you.”
“It’s an excellent gun. Absolutely reliable. Never fails. Of course, a carbine with a ten-round magazine would be better, but even two rounds of buckshot are quite weighty arguments in a dispute, you know...”
“I agree.”
Failing to engage David in conversation, Silverman fell silent again and leaned over his plate. He ate unhurriedly, politely, observing the rules of etiquette as only a man can who has forgotten, or has never known, what a hungry stomach is.
“What do you think will happen next?” he asked suddenly, without taking his eyes off his plate.
David shrugged his shoulders.
“I don’t know, but I’m prepared for the worst.”
“And what is the worst, in your opinion?”
“The worst is that it will never get better.”
“You sound just like a good friend of mine.”
David nodded and drank some more wine. His face expressed not a shadow of interest in pursuing this subject, then he suddenly spoke.
“This only began today, right?”
“Yes, as far as I know.”
“And when did you discuss this with your friend?”
Before replying, Silverman took the bottle from the table and topped up their glasses.
“Five years ago,” he answered, smiling slyly.
“Interesting!”
“Oh yes...”
At last Silverman had found a subject which interested his guest. He made himself comfortable in his chair, ready to tell a long story.
“At the time, of course, it seemed absolute nonsense. But first things first.
“I grew up in this fine apartment where we are lucky enough to be dining. I inherited it from my parents. One floor down, long long ago, there lived a young chap with whom I think I can say I spent my entire childhood.
“You won’t be aware of the fact, but there was once a splendid botanical garden at the rear of this building. It was maintained by another neighbour. He passed away a long time ago and after his death, his relatives didn’t bother much about the garden. Quite soon it became totally forlorn, the plants withered...
“When I was still in short pants, this neighbour was already a grey-haired old man on a pension. He had been a botanist by profession. He worked not far from here, at the university. It was he who inspired us with a love of the natural sciences.
“I remember as if it were yesterday how he showed me a carnivorous plant that fed on flies. I was really astonished. A killer plant! It made such an impression on me that at one point I was even afraid to approach the garden. What if its bushes jumped up and ate me? How he laughed when he learned of my fears!
“Yes... he knew how to interest us adventurous young lads. He knew so much about his green friends that he had an amusing story for every situation. We ran to the garden every morning to help water the plants, and always went away with some new story.”
Silverman fell silent and his eyes glazed over as he became immersed in memories of days long past. David did not hurry him. The story could not have been more appropriate to the filling dinner and wine, and the greenish light penetrating through the windows looking out onto the backyard added a feeling of the unusual and mysterious.
“Yes... Did you know that plants are capable of feeling?”
“No, I never thought about it.”
“Nor did I. I had always thought that plants had no feelings. When a tree is cut down with an axe, it just lies there. Could living creatures with feelings behave like that?
“But Professor Quade taught us to see what is normally concealed from our eyes. When he said, just in passing, as it were, that plants can feel, I thought he was joking. He asked: ‘Don’t you believe it?’ and I replied, ‘Of course not. Everyone knows that plants cannot feel...’
“Then he asked me how I knew. I replied that if a tree were in pain when one of its branches was broken, it would cry out. ‘But what if the tree does cry out
, but in a way that we can’t hear?’ How can you cry out when you are in pain, but in such a way that it isn’t heard? I didn’t understand at that time.
“And the Professor revealed a secret to me. Plants live in a world in which time goes by more slowly. Animals are invisible to them, they move so quickly that trees are unable to sense their presence. But they are capable of feeling the Sun: its rise, its passage across the sky and its setting. They feel all that very well.
“I did know that sunflowers turned to follow the Sun. But I still did not believe plants could react to contact. And then he showed me. Approaching the first plant he came to, he gently pulled a leaf and released it.
“I was all attention, having learned to expect wondrous things. My imagination painted a picture of the bush taking revenge on him... But instead, the Professor sat down on the ground. He patted the place next to him, inviting me to join him. When I sat next to him and eventually asked what we were waiting for, he only said: ‘Wait and see!’
“So we waited. A minute went by, another, nothing happened. I was already beginning to feel bored when he asked: ‘Do you see? No? Look carefully...’
“So I took a good look. The branch carrying the leaf that the Professor had pulled was half a metre long. The leaves on it were set out like splayed fingers, equidistant from each other. But then I noticed that at the end of the branch, they were lying closer to each other than at the root. A little more time went by, and the whole branch had closed up its leafy fingers. So it turned out that plants really can feel...
“Yes, old Quade knew how to touch the souls of young boys. I think it is not surprising that we soon decided we would become naturalists too.”
Silverman smiled wryly and finished his wine.
“And we did. Well, almost. After school I went to the medical faculty and my friend to the anthropology faculty. Do you know what that science studies?”
“Man?”
“True, but medicine also studies man. I must explain the difference. Anthropology studies man’s origin and development. At least, that’s what my friend did.
“So, about five years ago, I was sitting with him at this very table, remembering old Quade. Just as we are doing now. I don’t know if it was the wine’s fault, but we wanted to talk about philosophy... My friend asked me a simple question, which, simple though it was, I could not answer, namely: what makes us different from animals?”
David did not realise at first that the question was addressed to him, then shrugged his shoulders and replied: “Intelligence?”
“Animals have that too.”
“Then I don’t know. Tools?”
“They also have those. It’s quite normal for primates to use them.”
“Social hierarchy?”
“Even ants have that.”
“I give up.”
“One small but important difference. Man is capable of sharing food with individuals not related to him.”
“In other words, altruism.”
“Altruism is a broad concept. The sharing of food with non-related individuals is only a small part of altruism, a subset of it. Many aspects of human altruism are found in the animal world. With the exception of sharing food. Only man does that.”
After thinking about it, David sceptically shook his head.
“I have heard that dogs can rear orphan kittens. They bring them up, which means they share food...”
“That is something different. It is simply an example of one of the basic instincts, the maternal instinct. They look on the fostered kittens as their own offspring, which is why they share food with them.”
“But still, they are not direct relatives.”
“The main thing is not an actual blood relationship, but a perceived one. The fact that the dog has accepted the kittens as her own offspring is sufficient to activate the instinct. But man is capable of sharing just on impulse, for no apparent reason.”
“I’m sure you know more than I do about the inner workings of mankind, so I believe you... And what follows from that?”
“You might say that the evolution of man is the evolution of his brain. In the process of development from animal to man, the frontal lobes of man’s brain developed. These carry out the self-control function. At some stage they developed to such an extent that they enabled man to overcome himself, that is to say his instincts, and to begin sharing food with others not directly related to him.”
“In other words, it is only the capability of self-control which distinguishes us from animals?”
“Not only that. That is the direct effect. Other indirect effects ensue from it. The presence of such a highly developed restraining centre has given us much more.”
“For example?”
“Logical thought. Speech. We started speaking thanks to these frontal lobes. The capacity for speech is more to us than simply the exchange of information. It is fundamental to what we are. As the saying goes, when a monkey threw a swear word at his enemy instead of a stone, it laid the foundation of human civilisation.”
David took a piece of bread, pierced it with his fork, wiped it around his plate and put it in his mouth. He thought about all this as he chewed.
“It sounds logical to me... But I do not see the connection between the story and the bullet hole you got in your arm today...”
The Storm Episode One Page 9