“Thank you,” Vicki said sweetly. Jackson had the sudden impression she’d already known that, and was making Rogers jump through hoops.
Rogers continued, “The molecule seems to have had high-binding affinity for receptor or receptors in the amygdaloid complex. JEM scans show high recent blood-supply activity there, in areas of the limbic, and in the right temporal area of the cerebral cortex. Apparently the molecule caused a very complex cascade effect, in which the release of certain biogenic amines caused the release of other chemicals, and so on. We’ve already identified changes in the folding of twelve different peptides, and that’s probably only the beginning. There are also changes in the timing of synchronous neural firings.”
Jackson said, “Does the sum of your changes point to permanent changes in the NMDA receptors?”
“I’m afraid it does. The changes seem to include alteration of amine creation, including the presence of amines that only appear under pathological conditions. Plus changes in receptor composition, neurotransmitter processes in synapses, and even internal cellular response. Although those particular findings are especially preliminary. There’s also significant cell death of the kind mapped for trauma or prolonged stress. The neural architecture itself has been rewired.”
Jackson was on his feet and pacing before he knew it. “What data matches do you get for the neural maps?”
“I’m coming to that. The subjects both showed high and invariant heart rate, even while asleep. High skin conductance. Marked stress at the cellular level. Cerebrospinal fluid, urine, saliva, blood—everything shows consistent neurotransmitter breakdown products. The map is of a low threshold of limbic-hypothalamic arousal, high chronic stress, strong inhibition rooted in permanent changes in the primary efferent pathway from the amygdalae.”
Vicki said again, “English, please.”
It was Jackson who answered her. “The neuropharm—whatever it is—has given Shockey and Dirk the biochemistry of someone born severely inhibited. Afraid of anything new, fearful of separation from familiar people, unwilling to alter known routines because doing that produces painful anxiety.”
Vicki said, “Sharon’s baby… little Callie…”
“Yes. It’s normal for babies to have stranger anxiety and novelty inhibition at around six to nine months. But then maturation mutes the stranger anxiety, as complex brain functions suppress more primitive ones. But this… this is a regression to the inhibition of the most severely inhibited toddler. Permanently. And without altering DNA or relying on the ongoing presence of foreign chemicals, both of which the Cell Cleaner would destroy. A natural, pronounced fear of anything new or different.”
Like Theresa, Jackson thought but didn’t say aloud. A camp full of Theresas. A nation full of Theresas? Were more tribes infected?
“But why?” Vicki said.
Rogers looked at her with distaste. “The role of the nervous system is to generate behavior. Obviously someone is experimenting with this kind of behavior.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“I don’t have an answer,” Rogers said. “What do you expect in four days? Each neuron in the brain can receive up to a hundred thousand contacts from the other neurons they’re wired to in pyramid. Plus, there are receptor sites on other organs beside the brain; there are immense individual variations in neural architecture and drug response; there are—”
“All right, all right,” Vicki said, “The real question is, what can you do? Can you create a neuropharm to reverse the effects?”
“Jackson,” Rogers said, “tell your friend that it’s a hell of a lot easier to damage living organisms than to reverse damage. Tell her—”
“—that you had no trouble seeing a fast way to exploit the so-called damage,” Vicki struck in. “Study how the neural architecture can be permanently altered to bypass the Cell Cleaner, then adapt it to profitable pleasure drugs. Isn’t that what you told Cazie Sanders, hhmmmm? So you must see at least a possibility of finding loopholes in this supposedly unalterable biochemistry.”
Jackson said, “She’s right. Thurmond, and you know it. Kelvin-Castner should be looking for ways to counteract this.”
“We will, of course,” Rogers said. “But the enclaves have defenses against missile delivery of biologicals. And individual buildings can be made self-circulating. So can air masks. We might not want to move too precipitously on a counteractive. For the overall civic good.”
It took Jackson’s breath away. Rogers was saying that donkeys would probably not be affected by the inhibiting neuropharm, if they were careful. Only Livers. And Livers who were inhibited, afraid of novelty, terrified of separation from the familiar—such Livers would be a much reduced threat. They wouldn’t attack enclaves looking for Change syringes. They wouldn’t attack enclaves at all. They would just live their inhibited, frightened lives in quiet desperation, out of sight and mind of donkeys, until the next generation’s unChanged susceptibility to disease killed most of them off.
Vicki said softly, “You son of a bitch.”
Rogers grimaced; Jackson guessed he’d let his anger carry him away, and now regretted it. “I don’t, of course,” Rogers said, “speak in any official capacity for Kelvin-Castner. I don’t possess that authority.”
Vicki said, in that same soft deadly tone, “And I’m sure as well that Kelvin-Castner—”
“Wait,” Jackson said. “Wait.”
They both looked at him: one real person, one holo image, He tried to think. “The real question here is who. Who created this neuropharm? For what reason?”
“That should be obvious,” Rogers said. “It’s extremely subtle and advanced biochemistry. The most likely candidate is the SuperSleepless. Miranda Sharifi already remade human bodies; now she’s after human minds.”
“For what reason?”
Rogers said angrily, “How can we know? They’re not human.”
Jackson ignored that. “Wait. You said the biochemistry is very advanced. So advanced that it had to be the Supers? Or just advanced beyond what the known scientific establishment can achieve now, without absolutely being beyond normal human capacity?”
The holo image was silent.
“Answer carefully. Thurmond. This is vitally important.”
Rogers said reluctantly, “It’s not absolutely beyond normal humans with what we already know about the brain. But it would take a combination of genius, luck, and massive resources. The easier explanation is Miranda Sharifi. Occam’s razor.”
“—isn’t the only way to shave,” Vicki said. “All right, you’ve laid out the basics. Now give us printouts of your actual data.”
Rogers said, “That’s proprietary to Kelvin-Castner.”
“If we—”
Jackson interrupted her. “No. That’s all right, Thurmond. We don’t need your data. It’s replicable from anyone in Lizzie’s tribe. Or maybe by now other tribes as well.”
Tribes of Theresas. Afraid of the unfamiliar, reluctant to deal with strangers, unwilling to do things differently from however they were doing them when they breathed in the neuropharm. Unwilling to change. Who would want this neuropharm to exist? Any powerful donkey group, governmental or private, with a vested interest in protecting the status quo. Which could mean almost any powerful donkey group that existed. Lizzie’s tribe had been the first because of her demented, public attempt to win an election. They wouldn’t be the last.
Thurmond Rogers’s image watched Jackson keenly. “You’re right, of course, Jack. Anyone can replicate our data. Which is why we need to move so fast on getting a molecule to patentability. Cazie is seeing Alex Castner at 8:30, along with a few other potential major players. I can provide you with a suite to clean up a little and the loan of a business suit in your—”