A Reasonable World

4

In Huanchaca, Bolivia, Juan Montoya accepted the carton from the man ahead of him, passed it back. The warehouse doors stood open; all the food was coming out, in two streams, hand to hand to hand. Down below there were mule carts, a tractor with a flatbed trailer, two or three pickups, farm wagons, even bicycles.

Opposite Montoya were three militia, looking on with angry faces. They couldn’t do anything. Montoya laughed and gestured with his chin. The tall one started as if he had been struck. He unslung his rifle, raised it to his shoulder, then fell slowly across it and lay in the dust. The other two bent toward him. They crossed themselves, picked up the dead man. One of them said over his shoulder, “God will punish you.”

Montoya said cheerfully, “Then why did He never punish you?” The soldier turned his face away.

In Dr. Owen’s computer tube, calls were stacked up: Maintenance, a Philippine reporter, nothing she felt like responding to right now. Another appeared: Glen Cunningham, with the flag, “D&D.” That might be interesting.

“Mitzi, Glen,” she said to the computer.

Cunningham’s head appeared in the tube. “I think we’ve got something on the d-and-d project,” he said.

“Really? Tell me about it.”

“Well, one of the problems we had with the old system, it was based on the assumption that the parasite would move in a direct line between one host and another. Then we could set up our apparatus at the right place and destroy it. But it turns out that when you shock the host, the parasite can emerge in a random direction—it doesn’t necessarily go toward the nearest host.”

“So what’s the answer, Glen?”

“Rick Adams came up with this—he suggested that if the parasite is some kind of stable energy system, it may have a net charge, and in that case it ought to be possible to draw it out with a strong magnetic field. We tried it, and it checks out in three trials so far. Here’s the apparatus.” He moved back and showed her a device on a tall framework. “This electromagnet generates a field of two hundred oersted. The neat part is that we don’t have to use electroshock or anything invasive to the host. We put the subject’s head against the magnet and turn it on. The parasite, if it’s there, comes out and is held by the magnet; then we zap it with twenty thousand volts, and that’s all she wrote.”

“That’s marvelous, Glen. One question, how do you verify that the parasite is destroyed?”

He looked embarrassed. “Only by trying to infect another host, so far. We’d prefer a more positive method, and there might be a way to detect the energy released by the parasite when it’s destroyed, but the way we’re killing it rules that out. We’re still working on it. We’ll come up with something.”

“I’m sure you will, and meanwhile you’re doing marvelously. You want me to forward this to the National Laboratories?”

“Yes, and recommend a field trial.”

“I’ll certainly do that. Good work, Glen.”

Aaron Burstyn, an experimental detainee, was watching the holo in his cell.

“We’re talking to Harold W. Geiger, the president of General Motors. Mr. Geiger, there’s an interesting and controversial thing you’ve introduced in your plants recently. You’re trying to motivate your workers to greater productivity by giving them free brain implants which can then be used to stimulate their pleasure centers, or other centers, by the use of a device that provides a metered dosage in their off-work hours. Do I have that right?”

“Yes, that’s about it, Bob. As you know, we’ve been very, very concerned about turnover and worker morale for several years. This looked like something that might improve those problems.”

“And how is it working out?”

“Well, we’re very encouraged, but it’s too soon to say.”

“About how many workers—what percentage—have signed up for the brain implants?”

“It’s small so far; that’s why I can’t be definite about results as of yet.”

“By small do you mean ten percent? Five? One?”

“It’s in that range.”

“So you would say there is some resistance to the idea of brain implants?”

“There’s always resistance to anything new, Bob, as you know.”

“All right. Now, what’s to prevent someone who has had this implant from stimulating his own brain whenever he feels like it?”

“Well, the implant has a gadget in it, so it only lets the current through into your brain when it gets a certain kind of signal. In other words, you put this cap on your head, and it’s like a bank account—there are so many seconds of stimulation that you’ve earned by productivity and low absenteeism and so on. There’s a formula, which we’re still working out with the union. So it’s really like a bonus for good performance, and the beauty part of it is, is that it doesn’t harm the worker or lead to the problems we’re trying to correct, like alcohol or drugs do.”

“What about bootleg decoding devices? There have been some rumors about that.”

“We’re trying to run down those rumors, but at this point in time I’d say that’s just what they are.”

“Mr. Geiger, what kind of pleasure does a person experience under this stimulation? Have you tried it yourself?”

“No, I personally haven’t tried it, but I understand it’s usually just a general kind of pleasure—the way you feel when you’re relaxed and have no worries.”

“We’ve heard that the implant can stimulate other areas—make a person feel the way they do under the influence of alcohol, for example.”

“There is a certain amount of choice involved. We try to give people what they want. And, of course, if a person does choose the option you just mentioned, they get all the fun of having a mild buzz on without any of the bad effects.”

“Can they have a cocaine high, too, without the cocaine?”

“It’s possible.”

“A sexual experience?”

“That’s possible too.”

“Some of these experiences can be highly addictive, can’t they?”

“There is no addiction whatsoever, because we’re not giving them drugs in any shape or form.”

“But speaking generally, wouldn’t you say that a person who has grown used to these experiences would feel deprived if they had to give them up?”

“Well, there are a lot of things like that. Money, for instance.”

“Mr. Geiger, say I’m a worker in one of your plants and I decide to quit for some reason. What happens to my brain implant?”

“Well, you can have it removed if you want, or you can just leave it in. It can’t do any harm.”

“But I can’t use it anymore?”

“No, not unless you’ve earned it.”

“Thank you, Mr. Geiger.”

“My pleasure.”

Melanie Kurtz made a point of spending some time every day in one of the ten kindergarten classes, sometimes working with the children, sometimes watching behind the one-way glass. She had deliberately not familiarized herself with the names and faces of children in the breeding program, who presumably had acquired the parasite at birth, but she could not help trying to guess which ones they were. The whole point, after all, was to try to find out what difference there was between the two populations. She believed in objectivity and rigor, but she also believed in insight.

“There’s one,” said Lou Willows, who was on duty today behind the mirror in Kindergarten 8. “Hedy, the girl in the red jumper, over there with the ball?”

“Why do you say that?” Kurtz asked, although she thought she knew.

“Look at her. See how she’s watching Denny? He’s the ' one who was crying a minute ago.” Denny had been playing with the big blue and white ball when another boy took it away from him. Then the second kid threw the ball away, and a minute later Hedy had it. The teacher, a conscientious young woman named Levin, had soothed Denny and given him a truck to play with, and the whole thing had been smoothed over. But Hedy kept glancing over at Denny. Now she stood up, fanny higher than her head for a moment. She walked straight over to Denny and put the ball down in the bed of his truck. Denny knocked it away with his fist, then got up and pursued it. Hedy watched him a moment, then picked up the truck and walked away.

“Now how do you figure that?” asked Lou.

“Pretty smart.”

“At two, she’d have to be a genius. I think there’s something else. Sure, she wanted the truck, and she got it. But she gave the ball to Denny because she knew he wanted it.”

“ESP?”

“Why does it have to be ESP? She could tell by his behavior.”

“Yes, and you could be projecting, too.”

“I know that, and I know we’re not supposed to guess, but I’d be inhuman if I didn’t wonder.”