“What is it’?”
“I can’t complain, I suppose. I said before—you heard me—that if Lasvogel solved this one he could retire with honor. In effect he probably has—and we won’t be getting much from him from now on.”
“Why?”
Dr. Poole leaned forward with his I-don’t-gossip-but-you-should-know expression. “This wouldn’t be a Miss Ruth Gordoni?”
“No,” said Merrihew. “Ruthie.”
“Ah. Well, Lasvogel has moved, you know. Taken a house. And according to my sources Miss Szabo has moved in with him. And, ah, Miss Gordoni also. They seem to have become fast friends, all three.”
And Merrihew really did laugh, this time. “Friend,” he said, putting his hand on Dr. Poole’s shoulder, “You’re going to get work out of Lasvogel like you never got before. And he’s still got a lot to do if the totalitarian principle of physics inherent in this mess is to be kept permanently at bay. It goes something like this: ‘Anything not forbidden is compulsory.…’ He’s found a way to keep the pressure on and an environment that won’t even let him get sick. Beef Stroganoff with Vitamin E sauce—” and he dissolved into laughter again and wouldn’t explain.
The Verity File
CONFIDENTIAL:
AUTHORIZED EYES ONLY
ETHICOLOSSUS INC.
Office of the Director of Research
Interoffice Memo
To: Albert Verity, M.D.
Assistant to the Director
An examination of requisitions on file indicates the use of equipment and materials not readily explained by the nature of projects under development in your laboratory. I am, of course, quite certain that these requisitions are justified, but a word of explanation would be appreciated. Should you wish more specific information as to which requisitions are referred to, I shall supply it.
Geoffrey Quest-Profitte, M.D.
Director of Research
cc: Samuel Rebate, M.D.
President
P.S. by hand. Prexy’s boy Uriah Legree (did you know he always calls our president Prexy?) has been snooping, hence the copy to the Old Man. Sorry. But what the hell are you doing with a hard-vacuum still? I’ll try to cover for you but you cover for me—for not keeping an eye on you. G. Q.-P.
ETHICOLOSSUS, INC.
Interoffice Memo
SEALED: PERSONAL
To: Geoffrey Quest- Profitte, M.D.
Damn it, Geoff, of all times for you to be away at The Ethical Drug Convention! All I can do is write this informally and hope that when you get back you’ll come straight down here and let me show you the biggest breakthrough in the history of the company. Company, hell—the biggest thing since the scalpel was invented. Hang tight, boss. Fend off Prexy and his snooper for a little while longer while I get it written up and he’ll forgive you—and therefore me—everything.
Just to whet your curiosity, though, let me tell you that my latest requisition is for more mice, lot A64 and L073. In case it’s slipped your mind what these are, the first is Malignancies, inherited, and the second is Carcinoma, induced. The previous three lots of each group are cured—remitted—normal. I mean 100%, Geoff—and I mean overnight, every time. And the seven litters I have so far from the first lot—and one from the second, check out normal.
I know as well as anybody does how careful everyone has to be, and how much time and cross-checking we have to go through, but I’m telling you—this stuff is a one-shot, overnight cure not only for lesions but for systemic metastasization. You don’t believe this as you read it and I don’t expect you to, so get down here and I’ll show you.
And by the way—before you get to polishing up a medal for me—this isn’t my discovery. All I’m doing is repeating the procedures of the guy who did discover it and I’m going to see to it that he gets the credit for it. My results-of-record extend back three months. His go back four years. So hurry back and get your thing down here.
Al
P.S. It also cures warts.
P.P.S. The discoverer is Max Orloff. He’s a neighbor and a friend of mine.
P.P.P.S. On second thought, I’ll include photocopies of my results.
Did I mention what the raw materials cost? Nothing.
P.P.P.P.S. If I sound a little manic—wouldn’t you?
A.V.
Last and ultimate and blockbusting P.S. because I’ll bust wide open if I don’t tell somebody, even if I put my life in your hands. Aunt Mollie gave a party last Saturday and cooked one of her legendary feasts—for thirty people. She spent the whole day before—and most of the night—cooking. And the day before that shopping.
A.V.
ETHICOLOSSUS, INC.
Interoffice Memo
To: Albert Verity, M.D.
Assistant to the Director
Just a word to acknowledge your efforts during my visit to your laboratory. You will of course assign my lack of response to a deeply ingrained caution—the caution so necessary to all of us in the ethical drug trade. Above all the stature and reputation of the firm must be maintained and I am sure you will observe the same kind of caution. As I predicted, the requisitions in question are quite justified. Hereafter, however, it would be appreciated if you would report any new directions in research to this office before the fact. Keep up the good work.
Geoffrey Quest-Profitte, M.D.
Director of Research
cc: Samuel Rebate, M.D.
President
P.S. by hand. You recognize this as a slap on the wrist, very light because of the results. For God’s sake don’t talk about this on the outside—it could start riots. Matter of fact, don’t talk about it on the inside either. As for your Aunt Mollie—I almost fainted. That I don’t want talked about again—even to me. You took a terrible chance there and I for one am going to forget it. Sometimes you scare me, Al. A good thing I can be trusted.
G.
ETHICOLOSSUS, INC.
Office of the President
CONFIDENTIAL
To: Geoffrey Quest-Profitte, M.D.
Director of Research.
I very much appreciate your sending me your interoffice correspondence with Dr. Verity. It was no more than your duty. I suggest to you—knowing it is hardly necessary—just what you suggested to Dr. Verity. We’d best keep this in the family. I am certainly going to keep it to myself. By the way—I fail to comprehend the reference to “Aunt Mollie.” Can you elucidate’?
Endorsement: I totally agree with you, Dr. Rebate, that the Verity file falls into my province as Director of Security.
In response to your request for suggestions, I think that first of all, Dr. Verity must be isolated—without his knowing it. I would suggest a security examination of his laboratory and papers each night after hours—and that the mailroom be alerted so that his correspondence interoffice and outside (God forbid) can be examined. His telephone can easily be put on delay—as is done on radio talk-shows—and monitored so that before an incautious word gets out of the building it can be cut. I think that to stop his work or to divert it would only alert him. Meanwhile I think an outside investigation of this Orloff person (that name has a bad ring to it, Doctor) is indicated, together with the nature of his relationship with Dr. Verity.
Who is Aunt Mollie?
Howlan Beagle, Col. (Ret.)
Director of Security
Endorsement: The one thing that strikes me is Dr. Verity’s statement that the raw material “costs nothing.” Can you get me a nontechnical description of this “nothing”? I don’t believe it, of course, unless it’s a figure of speech. But it worries me. Makes it too easy for the competition to undersell us once they analyze the product.
Tip Turner
Director of Sales
Endorsement: I appreciate a look at this file. I wouldn’t say that at this stage the matter is in my department, but unless we are extremely cautious it might well be—and a nightmare to boot. I, too, very much doubt that this Orloff has anything—or Dr. Verity either—but t
he matter should be investigated. I will be glad to go with whoever investigates this person. He may require some handling. Let me know.
Genteel Flack
Director of Public Relations
ETHICOLOSSUS, INC.
Interoffice Memo
To: Albert Verity, M.D.
Can you give me a brief description of the process you used to produce the serum you used on those mice? You know the one I mean. Never mind the technicalities.
Geoffrey Quest-Profitte, M.D.
Director of Research.
P.S. by hand. Seal your response.
G. Q.-P.
Interoffice Memo.
To: Geoffrey Quest-Profitte, M.D.
Director of Research
Sure. You start with the spore of Mucor Mucedo. What you want is the endospore, but you don’t have to excavate for it. Just let it develop the germ tube and nip it off before it branches. Stick these in your bell jar or whatever you’re using for a quick hard vacuum and freeze-dry it. You’ll get an aqueous vapor that can be bubbled through distilled water until it saturates. Run it into your still. What comes out of the top pipe you can throw away. Same with the bottom. The one in the middle is what you call the serum, though I wouldn’t—it’s an aromatic extract. Does that answer your question?
A.V.
Interoffice Memo
To: The President
Here is Turner’s question which mightily impressed me; that man knows his trade—and Dr. Verity’s answer. For our Sales Manager’s information (not yours, of course) Mucor Mucedo is the common black mold, found in soil practically everywhere. The endospore is just what the word says—the inner white substance of the spore. The germ tubes grow out of the spore, which cracks open its black rind to let it out. Precisely what happens in that sort of distillation I can’t say without an analytical series.
It is, as Turner suggested, rather alarmingly simple and inexpensive. Shall I suggest to Dr. Verity that he try to synthesize it?
Geoffrey Quest-Profitte, M.D.
Director of Research
ETHICOLOSSUS, INC.
Office of the President
Interoffice Memo
To: Geoffrey Quest-Profitte, M.D.
Director of Research
Good thinking!
Samuel Rebate, M.D.
President
Interoffice Memo
To: Geoffrey Quest-Profitte
Director of Research
Good thinking!
Tip Turner
Director of Sales
Interoffice Memo
SEALED: PERSONAL
Geoff, what in God’s name is wrong with the people upstairs? Synthesize it? Sure I can synthesize it. It’ll take twenty-two steps and thousands of dollars worth of equipment and time and who knows if the final distillate will do the same thing? Okay, okay—I’ll get to it (though better not let Prexy’s boy find out about the requisitions it’s going to take) because after all I only work here. But why on earth synthesize something that’s so easy to come by already? Are we going to price life-saving right out of the market? Sometimes I fail to see the humor in the ethical drug business. Or the ethics either. Don’t mind me, Geoff. I’m just blowing off steam. You’ll get your goddam synthesis. Thanks for the private shoulder.
Disgustedly,
Al
Endorsement: Hardly a loyal attitude, that.
Howlan Beagle, Colonel (Ret.)
Director of Security
From the desk of:
Uriah Legree
Assistant to the President
Picked up Mr. Flack at prearranged time, 8:00 A.M. Tuesday, driving personal car. Arrived vicinity Orloff residence shortly after 9:00. After considerable excursions up and down unfashionable streets without success, queried local gas station, asking for Max Orloff. Attendant, Grand ol’ Opry type, overalls, old straw hat even, cigar stub interfering with diction, said Balzac, Baldaz, Boldass or Bolaz? —difficult to tell which and not understandable until later. Mr. Flack said again, Max Orloff and the native said, Yeah, that’s ol’ Baldaz (or Balzac or some such) and gave explicit directions.
House on top of hill behind screen of trees—three, four acres cultivated, garden vegetables, grapes, cow, duck pond, rabbit hutch. Sign on door WE LIVE WITHOUT CLOTHES. IF THIS MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE PLEASE RING AND WE WILL DRESS. IF NOT, PLEASE KNOCK. Reached for doorbell. Mr. Flack stopped me and knocked, said always take the sucker at his own measure.
Door open, man in his forties wearing hair to shoulders, beard period. Waved us in asking nothing. Big room, beams, fireplace, loom. Weaving at loom young woman wearing long yellow hair period. Smiled. Second young woman comes in door at back, suppose kitchen, wearing full skirt long black hair period, says, Oh, hello, I’ll get tea. Started to say no. Mr. Flack said, Thanks yes. Man said, That’s Joyce, woman at loom, that’s Jocelyn. Jocelyn ties off thread, comes to us, kisses Mr. Flack, kisses me just after I caught Mr. Flack’s Hold Still signal. Mr. Flack introduces himself and me and says we’re from Ethicolossus. The man acts very glad, says he’s Max Orloff. Sit down. Nothing to sit on but great big half-filled bright-colored velvet bags. Mr. Flack sits on one, his weight makes it shape itself like a kind of chair without legs. I try one carefully, lose balance, fall into it, it catches me, sure enough a chair, much too low but comfortable. Orloff says, Jocelyn made them. Jocelyn sits on the floor in front of, between us. Smiles a lot.
Mr. Flack tells Orloff how impressed everyone at Ethicolossus is with him and his work and a lot more about saving the world from misery and pain. Orloff takes it all in as if he believes every word and after a while I think he really does. Mr. Flack doing all talking, slow and easy, Jocelyn says to me Like to see the place? Mr. Flack flashes me a quick nod and Jocelyn gets up and holds out hand. Don’t want hand, don’t want to go, but Mr. Flack gives signal again and I get up. Jocelyn keeps hand. Very unsettling. Go out through kitchen, brick and iron stove, burning wood I guess. Beams, cast-iron and copper, tile floor. Big. See larder, root cellar, spring house, bedrooms with mattress covering whole floor, twenty cats with names, stories, four dogs, doves. Jocelyn tells how they live off the land, buy only salt, flour, matches and the like, not even sugar, they keep bees. Orloff’s lab. Like an alchemist’s workshop—lot of stuff usually glass is ceramic. Jocelyn says Joyce makes it.
On the way back in she stops and takes both my hands and says, Oh, please, will Ethicolossus buy Max’s discovery? Said I don’t know, but maybe. She says, Oh, and tears come into her eyes. Says it’s been very hard for a long time. Max could lose the place. It would take such a little bit to let him keep it. Went back in. Joyce has tray with mugs. All go into big room. Mr. Flack and Orloff heads together over papers, Max has Mr. Flack’s pen. Joyce says, Tea? I don’t want it but Mr. Flack takes his and gives me the look. I take the big mug, guess Joyce made that, too, took a drink. Herbs. Awful. Mr. Flack drank his all up, so me too. Everybody happy enough to make a man puke. We leave, both girls kiss us, afraid Max Orloff might, too.
In car, Mr. Flack laughs all the way down the hill, says, You’d never believe what we got the process for—fifty dollars, a lousy fifty dollars. Only Orloff does not know that and will not until he shows those papers to a lawyer. Told him Orloff about to lose the place. Mr. Flack said, Good, glad we got there before he moved. Said this world is sharks and minnows and the minnows live to get eaten, that’s what they are for.
Dropped off Mr. Flack at Ethicolossus, proceeded to county airport for second part of investigation. Lunched at airport, caught Flight 803 as planned, landed at Breed City 3:18 P.M. Hired car, proceeded to Mollie Verity neighborhood, checked out house. Trees on street made it like tunnel, houses far apart, old-fashioned, gingerbread, porches, porticos, porte cocheres. Old but neat, paint bright. Shutters on most, wide lawns, picket fences, flowers. Verity house light gray with green shutters. Drive to corner, candy store. Call. Say I work with Dr. Verity, just passing through. Miss Verity sounds very hospitable. Drive back
and park. Little lady bounces off porch glider, meets me halfway up front walk, takes both hands. Different thing from that Jocelyn altogether. Eyes bright as headlights, hair graying but not much and pulled back so tight it hurt into little bun. Apple cheeks really. Looked like all her own teeth. Gingham dress, blue with white polka dots and white collar and white tea apron, looked like that what’s-his-name that used to paint Post covers. Rockwell. Harder to believe than naked Orloff.
Inside, not a word until lemonade in tall glass with ice and homemade ginger and lemon cookies. Then all about Albert, how is Albert, is he working too hard, does he look peak-ed? Never had to say I don’t see Dr. Verity one month to the next. She carried it all.
Have to say if I didn’t see this woman myself, couldn’t believe both her and the medical report Col. Beagle gave me to read. Report said total terminal, metastasis, gone everywhere, weight less than 80 pounds, delirium to coma. Then spontaneous remission. But all that only months ago, now healthiest little lady around, full of bounce, laughing, always on the move. Said it herself—cancer did her good. Never had so much energy before, nor so much fun.
No trouble at all getting her to talk about it. About Al Verity either. Sun rises and sets on him. Golden boy. Not just family pride, real miracle-worker, all that. Couldn’t get her to say what if anything he’d done. She was too far gone to know.
But she said this, she said she came out of the haze and the pain laughing. She says she never felt so good in all her life, better even than now. She said she saw colors she had never seen before, had no names for them. Shifting, balanced patterns, moving mosaics. Everything part of the colors—sound—click of a spoon, footsteps, airplane—translated into the colors, joined them. Then, dreams—impossible flying and living and feeling dreams, realer than most real things. And all the while feeling great.
Slow Sculpture Page 24