It wouldn't be the sort of publication a news confrences accompanied, though.
Howard put his head in his hands. He wished he'd never called the bloody conference in the first place. That riot, exactly the word for it: dozens of people had been hurt what turned into a riot outside the Hall of the Popular Assembly. Censor Bryan had cal ed for an investigation into the way the constabulary handled it, and Censor ken had promptly vetoed the cal . It was the worst falling out the two chief executives had had in their term.
Howard did not care about that; politics meant nothing to him. He cared very much about what hurt people, that he known the protest outside would cause so many of fights, he never would have gone to Philadelphia. He sat up straight. No, that wasn't true. AIDS hurt more people than riots ever would. The only way to fight it was with research. Research took denaires, lots of them, and the only way to latch on to them was by shouting every piece of press, even one as ambiguous as HIVI, to the housetops the intercom buzzed.
He jumped, and was glad no one was with him to see it. "Mr. Tanaka is here to see you, sir," secretary said.
'Oh, yes, of course. Thank you, Doris. Send him in." Howard ran fingers through his thick brown hair. Joseph Tanaka had no official standing, but he had been friends of Censor Jennings since they were at middle school ether. "Jennings's eyes," the papers called him these days.
Doris opened the door for Tanaka. Howard rose to shake hand.
He had a strong grip, and looked a few years younger in person than in photos, he was, of course exactly the censor's age. His sturdy, middle-aged features somehow went well with the conservative velvet jacket and maroon ruffled shirt he wore. 'Good of you to take time from your busy schedule, Dr. Howard." Tanaka's voice was deep, almost gravelly, his manner straightforward."
'A pleasure." Howard waved to a chair. "Won't you sit " sanaka did not. "I was hoping you'd show me around In."
Certainly." Straightforward indeed, Howard thought.
'Follow me, then." He gave Tanaka a quick tour of the laboratories, ending with the bank of screens that , monitored the infected sims. The technician, fortunately had sense enough to keep his mouth shut. When they were back in Howard's office, Tanaka did at Iast take a seat. "Most interesting," he said, steepling his fingers,
"especially the sims' quarters. I must say, you treat sims well."
'Certainly we do," Howard said. "For one example, they eat the same food as our staff buys at the cafeteria we passed through. "
Tanaka gave a wry chuckle. "From what I know of cafeterias, that's not necessarily a recommendation. Still, l, see your point. You do well by the sims, as I said already." . He turned serious again. "Of course, you've also given , them AIDS."
"Mr. Tanaka," Howard said stiffly,"this research program operates under laws passed by the Popular Assembly with funds appropriated by the Senate.
Neither censor saw fit to affix his veto to the laws of the appropriation.
as you know, I am conforming to them in every particular."
"I do not doubt that for a moment, Dr. Howard, What I've come to see is the result of that conforming. After al , though they are not human beings, sims do have their own smal er measure of intelligence, and they did not consent to be experimented on."
Appalled, Howard burst out, "A sim cannot give informed consent!
That's a fundamental principle of lawns, "Not quite what I meant,"
Tanaka said. "I doubt the sim is eager to die, though, of a disease they almost certanly would not have contracted in the normal course of their lives. Many people not usually supportive of the sim justice movement, " He paused to let Howard make some uncomplimentary remark, but the doctor stayed quiet. Shrugg I Tanaka went on, ", still have qualms at their being finfected with AIDS." Howard had dealt with officials for years, and had no trouble translating what they said into what they ment. Tanaka was talking about votes. The doctor took a moment to make sure his reply informed without antagonising "They also have qualms, Mr.
Tanaka, about being ill themselves and two or three million of them have been those, somewhere around a third, maybe more, as it goes by, will actually develop AIDS. And just about al those will die, very unpleasantly. The people who still have symptoms are just as able to pass it on through sex as ones who do, more able because the ones without.
Sims give me my best chance of fighting it, in people. How can I do anything but use them?"
What would you do if there were no sims?" Tanaka asked after thinking a few seconds himself.
the best l could," Howard answered. "Muddle along shimpanses and a lot of in vitro work, I suppose. It wouldn't be the same. I think you've seen that here. A lot people would die while I, and a lot of other reseachers using sims, don't forget, struggled to translate answers we eventually got into clinical terms. We don't that problem with sims.
Their biochemistry is almost identical to ours."
Tanaka nodded and rose, showing the meeting was done.
He stuck out his hand. "Thank you very much, Dr. You've been most interesting."
Have l? I'm glad. What will you tell Censor Jennings, Tanaka blinked.
"You're very forthright."
'I'm concerned about my program, sir."
Reluctantly, Dr. Howard, I have to say you needn't be. I think the Censor will be happy when I tell him that, you've made your points well. you also might have given me another answer to my question just now, in which case I would have said something different to Censor Jennings."
Honestly puzzled, Howard asked, "What might I have said”
“When I asked what you'd do without sims, you might have suggested going on with human defectives."
The doctor felt his face freeze. "Good day, Mr. Tanaka.
Doris I am certain, will show you out." He sat down.
“I understand your reaction, Dr. Howard. As I said, you I the test nicely. The idea revolts me quite as much as you, I assure you. But I had to know."
“Good day," Howard repeated, unmollified. Nodding, he left. Howard was so filled with Fury that he did not whether he had hurt the DRC
political y. He did not think he had Tanaka plainly felt as he did.
He was also, he realized, furious at himself, and took a long while to figure out why. When he did, he wished he hadn't. If there were no sims, who could say what he might do to take a crack at AIDS. And who could say whether he would be able to look at himself in a mirror afterwards? He was not grateful to Tanaka for showing him a part of himself he would sooner have left unseen.
He got very little work done the rest of the day.
The air waggon pulled slowly to a stop outside Terminus. When it was not moving anymore, a steward opened the door. Ken Dixon got his shoulder bag out from under his seat, worked his way up the aisle.
"Thanks for breaking thee trail for me," Melody Porter said from behind him.
"My pleasure," he said, adding "Oaf " a moment later al another passenger stuck an accidental elbow in his bel y. He turned his head back toward Melody. "You'll forgive me it I omit the gallant bow."
"This once," she said graciously. He snorted.
"Have a pleasant stay in Terminus," the steward said as Dixon walked by, and then again to Melody. They walked out of the air waggon's cooled air and into the furious muggy heat of a Terminus August afternoon
"What's the matter?"
Melody asked when Dixon suddenly stopped halfway down the descent ladder. In less polite voices, passengers behind them asked the same thing.
"Sorry. My spectacles just steamed up." Dixon took them off his nose, peered at them in nearsighted wonder, and stuck them in his hip pocket.
Holding tightly to the rail, hat went carefully down the rest of the ladder. Once down on the ground, he was relieved to discover that the fog dissipated as his spectacles reached the same sweltering temperature as their surroundings. He put theg back on. When they went inside the cooled station building he let out a blissful sigh.