She raised her faded gray eyes. "That was a funny thing yousaid to him just now over the intercom. You said to him it was gettinglate. But it isn't late. It's only eleven o'clock in the morning."
David stared. "Do you mean to say you were listening to ourconversation? Why did you do that?"
She fidgeted and turned away from him. "Oh, I just happened to be atComdesk and I guess the circuit wasn't closed. Does it matter? But itseemed a funny thing for you to say."
"People in Office Category are not supposed to understand Research," hesaid severely. "If they were capable of Research, Leader Marley'splanners would have placed them there. As for its being late, it is, asfar as White Martian Fever is concerned. Which is the subject of mypaper. Prepare to take dictation."
Shrugging her shoulders, she poised her bony fingers over the keys ofthe little machine.
"Paper for delivery at the Summer Seminar," he began.
"But, Dr. Wong, that doesn't have to be ready for three months yet!"
"Miss Hachovnik! Please remember Leader Marley's Maxim: Individuals borninto Office Category are the bone and muscle of the State; Nature hasdesigned them to act, not to think."
"Yes, Dr. Wong. I'm sorry."
"Don't worry, Leah. We're old friends, so I won't report you. All set?"
He took a pencil from his leather case and tapped it against hisnotebook as he ruffled the pages, wondering how to begin. It was hard tothink logically when a part of his mind was in such confusion. Had Leahbeen listening in to all of his phone conversations? If so, it wasfortunate that he had long ago devised an emergency code. Was it onlyidle curiosity that had prompted her or was she acting under orders? Wasanyone else watching him, he wondered, listening to his talk, perhapseven checking the routine of his experimental work? There was Lanza thismorning--why had he come unannounced, in person, when a Communicationscall would have served the purpose equally well?
Leah's voice broke in. "I'm ready, Dr. Wong."
He cleared his throat. "...the Summer Seminar. Title: The Propogation ofWhite Martian virus. Paragraph. It will be remembered that the earlyattempts to establish Earth colonies on Mars were frustrated by theextreme susceptibility of our people to two viruses native to theforeign planet, viruses which we designate as Blue Martian and WhiteMartian, according to the two distinct types of fever which they cause.Blue Martian Fever in the early days caused a mortality among ourcolonists of nearly eighty-five per cent, and made the establishment ofpermanent colonies a virtual impossibility.
"Under the inspired leadership of Leader Marley and with the advice ofhis deputy Dr. Lanza, this laboratory in Research worked out a method ofgrowing the virus and producing an immunizing agent which is effectivein nearly all human beings. Only the cooperation of several Categoriesmade possible such a feat. It will not be forgotten that even thehumblest helpers in the Institute had their share in the project, thatsome of them acted as human volunteers in the experiments, well knowingthe risks they ran, and were afterward rewarded by a Free Choice.
"One person in Office Category, for instance, was given the privilege oflearning to play the flute, although nobody in his family had everbelonged to Music, and another person in Menial Category was permitted amonth's study of elementary algebra, a nearly unheard of indulgence fora person in his position. But as Leader Marley so graciously remarked inconferring the awards: To the individual who risks much, the State givesmuch."
"Like me and Tanya?" the girl asked, stopping her typing.
"Yes, like you and Tanya. You were allowed to act a part in an amateurTheater group, I remember, and since Tanya was made too ill to be ableto use a Free Choice, she was sent out west to the Playground, just asthough she had belonged to Ruler Category. Now where was I?"
"'The State gives much.'"
"Oh, yes. Paragraph. Since the discovery of the immunizing mechanism toBlue Martian, permanent colonies have been established on Mars. Butthere remains the more elusive problem of White Martian Fever, which,though its mortality is only thirty per cent, is still so crippling tothose victims who survive that the Martian colonies cannot begin toexpand, and the resources of the planet cannot be fully developed, untilan immunizing agent is found.
"For the past eight years this laboratory has been working at theproblem, among others, and we are now in a position to report a smalldegree of progress. Since it proved to be impossible to grow the virusin the usual media, it occurred to us--"
The intercom buzzed, and Dr. Wong turned away to open the dial.
"David? What's happened to you? I've been waiting here in the lab aquarter of an hour."
"Sorry, Karl. I thought I had more time. Be right down."
He reached for his white lab coat and shoved his long arms into thestarched sleeves. "That's all we have time for now, Leah. Can you get anearly lunch and be back here this afternoon at two?"
But she was not listening. She was leaning over to look at the desk,staring avidly at the open pages of Dr. Wong's notebook. Without commenthe picked up the book, closed it, put it in the top drawer and lockedthe drawer. She watched him with curious eyes.
"What funny marks those were, Dr. Wong! Do you keep your notes in aprivate system of shorthand?"
"No. I write them in Coptic. For the sake of privacy."
"What's Coptic?"
"A dead language, spoken by the ancient Egyptians thirty or fortycenturies ago."
"But you're Research, not Linguistics! It's against the law for you toknow other languages. Are you a traitor?"
"My dear Leah," he said, "I'm far too sensible a man to go in forbootleg study, to learn anything without permission. I have no wish toend up with a pick-ax in my hands. But you shouldn't tax your littlemind with thinking. It's not your job. You're not equipped for it, andit's dangerous."
* * * * *
David passed the watchguard stationed in the basement corridor, walkedthrough the open door of the laboratory, past the bench where a row ofpretty technicians sat making serial dilutions of bacterial and virussuspensions, through the glow of the sterilizing room, and on into thesmall inner lab where flasks of culture media and developing hens' eggssat in a transparent incubator, and petri dishes flecked with spots ofcolor awaited his inspection.
Dr. Karl Haslam was standing at the work bench, with a pair of silverforceps which held a small egg under the psi light. Gently he loweredthe egg into its warm observation chamber, covered the container, andsat down.
"Well, here I am. What's gone wrong? Explain yourself, my boy."
"Just a minute." Grinning maliciously, David took down a bottle from theshelf of chemicals, poured a colorless liquid into a beaker, and walkedcasually toward the doorway as he agitated the mixture of hydrogensulphide and mercaptans. He held his breath, then coughed, when thefumes of putrescence filled the room and drifted out the door. He lookedinto the technician's room.
"Sorry for the aroma, girls, but this is a vital experiment."
"Can't you at least shut the door?" one called pleadingly.
"Explain to the watchguard out there, will you?" Closing the door, heturned on the ventilator and sat down beside Dr. Haslam.
"Why all the melodrama?" Karl asked, baffled. "First you call me byemergency code, then you hole in like a conspirator. I'm beginning tothink you're a great loss to Theater. What's happened? Why is it laterthan I think?"
"Do you take everything as a joke, Karl?"
"Certainly, until I'm forced to do otherwise. What's worrying you?"
"I'm afraid of being arrested for treason. Don't laugh! This morning Ireceived a message, delivered in person by our old schoolmate Lanza, toreport to Leader Marley on Wednesday, and Marley hasn't paid anyattention to me since he last inspected our lab, years ago. For anotherthing, Leah Hachovnik is making a nuisance of herself with her curiosityabout my affairs. If she weren't so clumsy about her prying, I'd almostbelieve she was under orders to spy on me."
Karl moved impatiently. "I hope you're not turning psychotic. You have aclean
record of continuous production and you've never mixed inpolitics. You've never expressed what you may really think of our Leadereven to me, although we've been friends since we were in Medschool, andI hope you never will. And you're making progress with White Martian.Why, my boy, you're all set! What's treasonable about that?"
Someone knocked at the door. Hastily David uncovered the fragrant beakerand waved it about as he called, "Come in!"
The watchguard looked in for an instant, wrinkled his nose, and quicklyshut the door. Laughing, David covered the beaker, and began walkingabout