Part 6 (1/2)
”Polio? Exactly. Another killer plague that appeared from nowhere. Sure, this time we came up with a vaccine. But so we know where it went-where did polio come from, though? Each generation seems to have its nemesis. When I was your age, the big killer was stomach cancer. Like bad weather, we talked a lot about stomach cancer, but nothing much was ever done, and it faded into the background just the same. Instead, we had heart disease. Now there's the number one killer for these many years-the reason for billions of government dollars doled out for research. And what have we really done about it? Dietary fads, a few ghoulish transplants, and a pile of Rube Goldberg gadgetry that can keep things pumping for a few extra years. Sum total: too close to nothing to bother carrying. But that's all right too, because now heart disease is on the way out, and for now our great slayer of mankind is cancer.
”History and figures tell the story, young man. Cancer is here for the moment. And maybe all your research will do something about it, then more likely it won't. But it doesn't matter in the long run, because cancer will have its heyday and fade like its predecessors at the scythe handle, and then we'll find something new to die of. Wonder what it'll be.”
”Someone else's worry, that's what it'll be. I suppose, as they say, you got to die of something.” Geoff pushed his chair back from the table. ”Meanwhile I'll chase after today's problems. And one of the most immediate concerns a scintillation counter run that ought to be gone through by now. See you, Ira.”
”Sure. Hey, how about leaving that paper, if you're finished reading it.”
Dr Thackeray was waiting in the lab when Geoff returned. The Great Man was leaning over Metzger's desk, idly looking through several days' loose data and notes. A long white lab coat, stylishly ragged after the Center's peculiar sn.o.bbery, covered his spa.r.s.e frame. A little imagination and he could make a good Halloween phantom, mused Geoff, watching the blue cigar smoke swirl about his hawklike face.
Geoff stepped into his office alcove. ”Keeping late hours, Dr Thackeray?” The Chairman of Medicine has no first name within the walls of his domain.
”Good evening, Dr Metzger,” returned his superior. ”No, not particularly. I wanted to see how things were going with you, and I felt it likely you'd still be here. Your devotion to your work has caused some comment-even among our staff. Most commendable, but I hope you aren't working yourself into an early grave.”
”I'll manage,” Geoff promised. ”I feel like I'm really getting somewhere right now though, and I hate to let up.”
”Yes. I see you've made progress, Dr Metzger.” His eyes black in the sterile glare of the fluorescents, Dr Thackeray let his gaze gesture about the crowded laboratory. ”Very significant progress in the year you've been with us here at the Center.”
Geoff framed his words with care. ”I don't like to put myself down as saying-even off the record-just how far what I'm doing here might lead, Dr Thackeray. You've seen what I've accomplished so far, read the preliminary reports. But in the last few months I've... well, made a few unexpected breakthroughs. I think I know what it will mean, but I want absolute evidence to substantiate my findings before I speculate openly with regard to what I've learned. Forgive me if this seems melodramatic, but I've no desire to be labeled a fool, nor would I care to bring derision upon the Center.”
”Again commendable, Dr Metzger. I appreciate your position, naturally. As you know, there's been some speculation among the staff relating to your most recent work-enough that some of us can understand what you're trying to lead up to.”
”I'm making no preliminary claims,” Geoff repeated. ”Between the two of us, I feel certain of my ground. But too many over-eager researchers have gone off half c.o.c.ked and regretted it when their errors were immediately apparent to more careful workers.”
”To be sure!” Dr Thackeray turned his piercing eyes into Geoff's. ”I truly admire your discretion. Untold damage might result from foolish disclosures at this point. I agree.”
”Thank you, sir.”
”Not at all.” Dr Thackeray waved his hand. His expression darkened. ”It's because of the position you find yourself in right now that I've left these two papers on your desk.”
Surprised, Geoff noticed for the first time the two dull black binders waiting beside a tangle of data tapes. Their vinyl covers bore no t.i.tle-then, on closer glance, he was aware of a tiny silver seal embossed on either spine.
”It required considerable effort to obtain those two copies,” Dr Thackeray advised. ”Needless to say, I'll expect you to examine them with care-the data is confidential, of course-and return them to me when you've finished. Reading them is explanation enough for the present, so I'll say no more for now.
”I think you'll want to discuss your thoughts on this with me. How about tomorrow morning at eight o'clock? I think you will have read through them to your satisfaction by then.”
”Certainly,” agreed Metzger in bewilderment. ”If you feel this is important to my project...”
”It's extremely important, Dr Metzger, I a.s.sure you. Very well, then. We'll talk this over at eight.”
With a bizarre sense of foreboding, Geoff took up the first of the black folders.
*IV*
Dr Thackeray's secretary was not present when Metzger entered the Department of Medicine offices the following morning-his nerves jagged after a sleepless night. Since he knew he was expected, he knocked and entered the Chairman's office. Sanctum sanctorum, soul of the Center, he thought with a tinge of hysteria.
”Dr Thackeray, I've been trying to get in touch with you all night...” He halted, startled to find the Chairman of Surgery seated within.
”It's all right, Dr Metzger,” p.r.o.nounced Dr Thackeray. ”Dr Lipton is a party to... this matter we have to discuss.”
Numbly Geoff dropped into the room's vacant chair. The two older men faced him with carefully composed mien-eyes alert as birds of prey.
Geoff thumped a fist against the black vinyl folders in his lap. ”G.o.d, it's all here!” His eyes were feverish. ”Everything I've done, all I'd hoped to establish-a number of aspects I'd never considered!” Dr Thackeray nodded, eyes unblinking.
”Well, Christ, where did you get this? If you knew someone else was working in my field, why didn't you tell me earlier? h.e.l.l, this is too important for professional jealousy. I'll gladly share any of my data with these researchers. To h.e.l.l with who gets official credit!” His voice began to shake. ”This research-this information! My G.o.d-it means a definite cure for almost every form of human cancer! Why, this delineates each etiological factor involved in cancer-pinpoints two definite stages where the causative agent can be destroyed, the disease process completely arrested! This research marks the triumph of medicine over leukemia, most of the systemic dysplasias-individual organ involvement will be virtually eradicated!”
”Quite true,” Dr Lipton agreed. His long surgeon's fingers toyed with the silver-and-onyx ring he wore.
”Well, no more suspense, please! Whose work is this? Where's it being done?” Geoff's excitement was undiminished by the coolness of the other two physicians.
”One paper was prepared from the work of Dr C. Johnson Taggart,” Dr Thackeray told him.
”Taggart? No wonder it's... But Taggart died ten years ago-brain tumor! You mean they've taken this long to piece together his notes?”
”The other paper, as you've noticed, is considerably older. Most of it was the work of Sir David Aubrey,” Dr Thackeray concluded.
Geoff stared at them to determine whether they were playing some horribly sick joke. ”Aubrey died at the turn of the century.”
”True again. But he was responsible for most of the pioneer work in this field,” Dr Lipton added with a tone of reproof.
The overweighted shelves of acc.u.mulated knowledge seemed to press down on Geoff's soul. A windowless room in the center of the complex, like a chamber of the vast heart of some monstrous ent.i.ty. ”I don't understand,” he whispered in a choked voice. ”Why hasn't this information been used before now? Why were millions left to die?”
”Perhaps the world wasn't ready for a cure to cancer,” Dr Thackeray replied.
”That's... that's insane! I don't understand,” quavered Geoff, noticing now that Dr Thackeray wore a ring similar to Dr Lipton's. There was a seal set into the onyx. He had seen it before. It was stamped on the spines of the black binders.
”You can understand,” Dr Thackeray was saying. ”This will be strange-traumatic perhaps, at first. But think carefully. Would it be wise to circulate a total cure for cancer just now?”
”Are you serious? You can't be! The lives, the suffering...”
”The price of power, Dr Metzger. The price of power-just as every empire is built upon the lives and suffering of the expendable.” Dr Lipton's voice was pitiless as the edge of his scalpels, excising without rancor the organism's defective tissue.
”Think of cancer in more rational terms,” Dr Thackeray went on. ”Have you any conception of the money invested every day in cancer research, in treatment of cancer patients? It's incalculable, I a.s.sure you. Do you think the medical profession can sacrifice this wealth, this enormous power, just for a humanitarian gesture?”
”But a physician's role is to heal!” screamed Metzger, abstractly noting how thoroughly the endless shelves m.u.f.fled sound.
”Of course. And he does heal,” put in Dr Lipton. ”But where would a physician be if there were no sickness to be healed?”
They were mad, Geoff realized. Or he was. He had been overworking. This was a dream, a paranoid fantasy.
This knowledge made him calmer. He would follow this mad logic-at least until he could be certain with whom the insanity lay. ”But some diseases are eradicated,” he protested.
”When they become expendable,” Dr Thackeray told him. ”Some, of course, simply die out, or fall victim to non-medical intervention. Others we announce a cure for-makes the profession look good. The world has restored faith in medicine, praises its pract.i.tioners, and pours more money into research. The prestige a physician enjoys in the community is an essential factor to us.”
Lipton's frown furrowed into his close-cropped hair where it grew low on his brow. ”And sometimes we slip up, and some fool announces a major cure without our awareness. Thank G.o.d, there's less of that now with the disappearance of independent research. As it is, we've had some d.a.m.n close calls-took a lot of work to discredit a few of these thoughtless meddlers.”
Geoff remembered some of them. And now he knew fear, fear greater than his dread of insanity; fear that these men were all too sane. ”I suppose something can happen to some of these researchers who might cause difficulty.”
”You make it sound like a line from a gangster movie, but yes,” Dr Thackeray acknowledged. ”Quite a number of them die from some sudden illness, and the scientific community regrets that they left their brilliant promise unfulfilled.”
”It's a way of avoiding other dilemmas as well, as I think you'll follow me,” Dr Lipton growled. ”Meddlers who become aware of our existence. Fools who would destroy the medical profession with Communistic laws and regulations, endanger the social structure with ruinous legislation.