Part 4 (1/2)
Before the last rays of the sun had died away we saw the black outline of the Caban Loch dam before us, and caught the sheen of water beyond.
On the north lay the river Elan and on the south the steep side of a mountain towered up against the luminous sky. The road runs along the left bank of the river bounded by a series of bold and abrupt crags that rise to a height of some eight hundred feet above the level of the water. Just below the Caban Dam is a house occupied by an inspector in charge of the gauge apparatus that is used to measure the outflow of water from the huge natural reservoirs. The lights from his house twinkled through the growing darkness as we drew near, and we skirted it by a short detour and pressed on.
”How long does water take to get from here to Birmingham?” asked Sarakoff as we climbed up to the edge of the first lake.
”It travels about a couple of miles an hour,” I replied. ”So that means about a day and a half.”
We spoke in low voices, for we were afraid of detection. The presence of two visitors at that hour might well have attracted attention.
”A day and a half! Then the bacillus has a long journey to take.” He stopped at the margin of the water and stared across the shadowy lake.
”Yes, it has a long journey to take, for it will go round the whole world.”
The last glow in the sky tinted the calm sheet of water a deep blood colour. Sarakoff opened his bag and took out a couple of tubes.
He pulled the cotton-wool plugs out of the tubes, and with a long wire, loosened the gelatinous contents. Then, inverting the tubes he flung them into the lake close to the beginning of the huge aqueduct.
I stared as the tubes vanished from sight, feeling that it was too late to regret what had now been done, for nothing could collect those millions of bacilli, that had been set free in the water. Already some of them had perhaps entered the dark cavernous mouth of the first culvert to start on their slow journey to Birmingham. The light faded from the sky and darkness spread swiftly over the lake. Sarakoff emptied the remaining tubes calmly and then turned his footsteps in the direction of Rhayader. I waited a moment longer in the deep silence of that lonely spot; and then with a s.h.i.+ver followed my friend. The bacillus had been let loose on the world.
CHAPTER VI
THE ATt.i.tUDE OF MR. THORNDUCK
We reached London next day in the afternoon. I felt exhausted and could scarcely answer Sarakoff, who had talked continuously during the journey.
But his theory had interested me. The Russian had revealed much of his character, under the stress of excitement. He spoke of the coming of Immortality in the light of a _physical_ boon to mankind. He seemed to see in his mind's eye a great picture of comfort and physical enjoyment and of a humanity released from the grim spectres of disease and death, and ceaselessly pursuing pleasure.
”I love life,” he remarked. ”I love fame and success. I love comfort, ease, laughter, and companions.h.i.+p. The whole of Nature is beautiful to me, and a beautiful woman is Nature's best reward. Now that the dawn of Immortality is at hand, Harden, we must set about reorganizing the world so that it may yield the maximum of pleasure.”
”But surely there will be some limit to pleasure?” I objected.
”Why? Can't you see that is just what there will not be?” he cried excitedly. ”We are going to do away with the confining limits. Your imagination is too cramped! You sit there, huddled up in a corner, as if we had let loose a dreadful plague on Birmingham!”
”It may prove to be so,” I muttered. I do not think I had any clear idea as to the future, but there is a natural machinery in the mind that doubts golden ages and universal panaceas. Call it superst.i.tion if you will, but man's instinct tells him he cannot have uninterrupted pleasure without paying for it. I said as much to the Russian.
He gave vent to a roar of laughter.
”You have all the caution and timidity of your race,” he said. ”You are fearful even in your hour of deliverance. My friend, it is impossible to conceive, even faintly, of the change that will come over us towards the meaning of life. Can't you see that, as soon as the idea of Immortality gets hold of people, they will devote all their energies to making their earth a paradise? Why, it is obvious. They will then know that there is no other paradise.”
He took out his watch and made a calculation. His face became flushed.
”The bacillus has travelled forty-two miles towards Birmingham,” he said, just as our train drew in to the London terminus.
I was busy with patients until dinner-time and did not see anything of Sarakoff. While working, my exhaustion and anxiety wore off, and were replaced by a mild exhilaration. One of my patients was a professor of engineering at a northern university; a brilliant young man, who, but for physical disease, had the promise of a great career before him. He had been sent to me, after having made a round of the consultants, to see if I could give him any hope as to the future. I went into his case carefully, and then addressed him a question.
”What is your own view of your case, Mr. Thornduck?”
He looked surprised. His face relaxed, and he smiled. I suppose he detected a message of hope in my expression.
”I have been told by half-a-dozen doctors that I have not long to live, Dr. Harden,” he replied. ”But it is very difficult for me to grasp that view. I find that I behave as if nothing were the matter. I still go on working. I still see goals far ahead. Death is just a word--frequently uttered, it is true--but meaningless. What am I to do?”