“I think you are right,” François said.
“That means we should look at the key that tells us how much Ultra each of us has been taking,” Gloria said.
They all looked at Edward.
“Seems reasonable,” Edward said. He walked over to his desk and removed a small locked box. Inside was a three-by-five card with the code that matched dosages.
The group quickly learned that Curt was on the highest dose followed by David on the next highest. On the other end of the scale, Eleanor had the lowest with Edward just behind her.
After a lengthy, rational discussion, they came up with a theory of what was happening. They reasoned that when the concentration of Ultra got to a certain point, it progressively blocked the normal variation of serotonin levels that occurred during sleep, ironing them out and altering sleep patterns.
It was Gloria who suggested that when the concentration got even higher, perhaps to the point where the sharp upward swing of the curve occurred, then the Ultra blocked the radiations from the lower, or reptilian, brain to the higher centers in the cerebral hemispheres. Sleep, like other autonomous function, was regulated by the lower brain areas where the Ultra was massing.
The group was quiet for a time while everyone pondered this hypothesis. Despite their emotional recovery, they all found this idea disturbing.
“If this were the case,” David said, “what would happen if we were to wake up while this blockage was in place?”
“It would be as if we’d experienced retroevolution,” Curt said. “We’d be functioning on our lower-brain centers alone. We’d be like carnivorous reptiles!”
The shock of this statement quieted everyone with its horrid connotations.
“Wait a minute, everybody,” Edward said, trying to cheer himself as well as the others. “We’re jumping to conclusions that are not based on fact. This is all complete supposition. We have to remember that we’ve seen no problems with the monkeys, who we all agree have cerebral hemispheres, although smaller than humans’, at least most humans.”
Everyone except Gloria smiled at Edward’s humor.
“Even if there is a problem with Ultra,” Edward reminded them, “we have to take into consideration the good side of the drug, and how it has positively affected our emotions, mental abilities, acuity of our senses, and even long-term memory. Perhaps we have been taking too much of the drug and we should cut down. Maybe we should cut down to Eleanor’s level since all she’s experienced are the positive psychological effects.”
“I’m not cutting back,” Gloria said defiantly. “I’m stopping as of this minute. It horrifies me to think of the possibility of some primitive creature lurking inside my body without my even being aware and sneaking out to forage in the night.”
“Very colorfully said,” Edward remarked. “You are welcome to stop the drug. That goes without saying. No one is going to force anyone to do anything they don’t want to do. You all know that. Each person can decide whether to continue taking the drug or not, and here’s what I suggest: for an added cushion of safety I think we should halve Eleanor’s dose and use that as an upper limit, dropping subsequent doses in one-hundred-milligram steps.”
“That sounds reasonable and safe to me,” David said.
“To me as well,” Curt said.
“And me,” François said.
“Good,” Edward said. “I’m absolutely confident that if the problem is as we’ve theorized, it has to be dose related, and there has to be a point where the chances of causing the problem is an acceptable risk.”
“I’m not taking it,” Gloria restated.
“No problem,” Edward said.
“You won’t be irritated with me?” Gloria asked.
“Not in the slightest,” Edward said.
“I’ll be able to be a control,” Gloria said. “Plus I’ll be able to watch over the others at night.”
“Excellent idea,” Edward said.
“I have a suggestion,” François said. “Perhaps we should all take radioactively tagged Ultra so I can follow the buildup and chart concentrations in our brains. The ultimate dose of Ultra might be that dose which merely maintains a specific level of Ultra without continually increasing it.”
“I’d agree to that idea,” Curt said.
“One other thing,” Edward said. “I’m sure I don’t have to remind all you professionals, but this meeting must be kept secret from everyone, including your families.”
“That goes without saying,” David said. “The last thing any of us wants to do is compromise Ultra’s future. We might have a little growing pains here and there, but it’s still going to be the drug of the century.”
Kim had intended to spend some time in the castle during the morning, but when she got back to the cottage she realized it was already lunchtime. While she was eating, the phone rang. To her surprise it was Katherine Sturburg, the archivist at Harvard who had a particular interest in Increase Mather.
“I might have some potentially good news for you,” Katherine said. “I’ve just found a reference to a work by Rachel Bingham!”
“That’s marvelous,” Kim said. “I’d given up hope of help from Harvard.”
“We do the best we can,” Katherine said.
“How did you happen to find it?” Kim asked.
“That’s the best part,” Katherine said. “What I did was go back and reread the letter you let us copy from Increase Mather. Because of his reference to a law school, I accessed the Law School library data bank, and the name popped up. Why it’s not cross-referenced in our main data bank I have yet to figure out. But the good news is the work seemed to have survived the 1764 fire.”
“I thought everything was burned,” Kim said.
“Just about everything,” Katherine said. “Fortunately for us, about two hundred books out of the five-thousand-volume library survived because they were out on loan. So someone must have been reading the book you are looking for. At any rate, the reference I found indicated that it was transferred to the Law School from the main library in Harvard Hall in 1818, a year after the Law School was founded.”
“Did you find the book itself?” Kim asked excitedly.
“No, I haven’t had time,” Katherine said. “Besides, I think it would be better if you took it from here. What I recommend is that you give Helen Arnold a call. She’s an archivist at the Law School. I’ll call her first thing Monday morning so that she’ll expect a call or a visit.”
“I’ll go right after work on Monday,” Kim said eagerly. “I get off at three.”
“I’m sure that will be fine,” Katherine said. “I’ll let Helen know.”
Kim thanked Katherine before they disconnected.
Kim felt ecstatic. She’d totally given up hope that Elizabeth’s book had survived the Harvard fire. Then Kim questioned why Katherine had been so sure it was a book. Had it said as much on the reference?
Kim went back to the phone and tried to call Katherine right back. Unfortunately she wasn’t able to reach her. A secretary said that Katherine had rushed out to a luncheon meeting and wouldn’t be back to the office until Monday.
Kim hung up the phone. She was disappointed but didn’t remain so for long. The idea that on Monday afternoon she would finally learn the nature of the evidence used against Elizabeth was a source of great satisfaction. Whether it was a book or not did not matter.
Despite this good news, Kim still went to the castle to work. In fact, she attacked the jumble of papers with new enthusiasm.
Halfway through the afternoon she paused long enough to try to estimate how much longer she thought it would take for her to finish sorting the material. After counting all the remaining trunks and boxes and assuming about the same number existed in the wine cellar, she figured out it would take another week if she were to work for eight hours a day.