“Only in the beginning. They fascinated her: part of her preoccupation with manipulation and artificial personalities, supplied from some external source. She believed, for a time, that drugs could really change her, make her something else, something different. I was able to correct that attitude.”
“What is your opinion of her present status?”
“Sharon’s? Excellent. One of my most successful cases.”
Clark nodded politely. He was obviously getting nowhere. He stood, thanked Dr. Shine for his time, and was about to leave when a thought occurred to him.
“By the way,” he said, “have you ever treated any Angels?”
“Angels?”
“Hell’s Angels.”
“Funny you should ask. I have one under treatment now.”
“Who’s that?”
“Arthur Lewis. A wild one. His father’s a television producer, and there is a lot of money. The boy’s assimilating it badly. Victim of affluence, you might say. Why do you ask?”
“Just wondered,” Clark said.
Ten minutes later, after Clark had gone, Mrs. Shine climbed out of the pool and towelled herself dry.
“Who was that?” she asked her husband.
“A doctor. He’s been treating some of the coma people, and I’m afraid he’s puzzled. He didn’t come out and say it, but it was on his mind.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all,” Dr. Shine said, smiling.
“You mean he’s—”
“Exactly. He’s the one.”
“Poor guy. He was kind of cute.”
“Don’t worry,” Shine said. “He’ll be well taken care of.”
6. INTERLUDE: SYBOCYL
RETURNING TO HIS APARTMENT, Clark found Peter Moss in the lobby. Moss was the detail man for Wilson, Speck and Loeb, the drug company. As usual, he carried a huge satchel stuffed with samples.
“Hello, Roger. I was just calling to see if you were home.”
“Come on up,” Clark said.
They rode the elevator together. “Got some great new stuff this time,” Moss said, patting the satchel. “Great new stuff.”
“What is it this month? Antihypertensives?” There had recently been a spate of new antihypertensive drugs from several companies. The detail men were pushing them like mad.
“Naw. That’s old stuff. Now we’re working with Sybocyl.”
The elevator arrived at the tenth floor. Clark unlocked the door to his apartment. “Sybocyl? What’s that?”
“New stuff, just finished clinical testing. The FDA is going to release it in about a week.”
“Yes; but what is it?”
“Marvelous stuff,” Moss said, sitting down and opening his briefcase.
Clark took off his jacket and tie. “Yes, but what?”
“The FDA is just finishing up on it. Testing the rats and monkeys. For a while, we didn’t think we could market it, because it caused toxic reactions in the yellow ostrich.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Seems it drove them insane. Lost all desire to bury their heads in sand. Of course, it only affected female ostriches.”
“Who discovered this?”
“The FDA. They also discovered that it turned the second. molars of immature Hamadryas baboons an odd brown color. That was a setback, too.”
“I’m sure. But what about people?”
“Well, you know how it is. With such odd reactions in animals, the FDA was unwilling to release it for clinical trial. And after the business with the Norway rat—”
“What was that?”
“Well, they discovered that administration of the drug to the Norway rat, research strain K-23, induced uncontrollable vomiting.”
“Unfortunate,” Clark said.
“A mechanism involving the chemoreceptor trigger zone in the medulla was postulated.”
“Quite naturally.”
“Well, no,” Moss said. “After all, there might have been a peripheral effect as well as a central one.”
“Yes,” Clark admitted. He had learned long ago that you had to let Moss talk for a while. Like most detail men, Moss had attended a junior college in business administration; he knew nothing about science or drugs, but had read the journals and dutifully memorized them.
“Of course,” Moss continued, “there was one hitch. In order to induce the vomiting, they had to administer rather heavy doses.”
“Oh?”
“In fact, they had to administer the rat’s own weight in the drug.”
“I see.”
“Hardly a physiologic condition. After all, can you imagine giving a 150-pound man 150 pounds of penicillin? Make anyone sick. Still, the FDA was suspicious. It was months,” Moss said, “before we started the clinical trials. They were done in Baltimore, Chicago and Cleveland, and fortunately, responses were gratifying. Sybocyl passed with flying colors.” Moss reached into his satchel and produced a small bottle of pink capsules. “And here it is!” he cried dramatically, thrusting it into Clark’s hands.
“Very nice,” Clark said, looking at the bottle.
“Sybocyl,” said Moss, “is the ultimate wonder drag. It stops cardiac arrhythmias, is a bronchodilator, has direct diuretic effects, stimulates the myocardium to increase contractility, is bactericidal, and is a CNS stimulant and sedative.”
“A stimulant and sedative?”
“Strange as it seems,” Moss said, “it is. The ultimate wonder drug. You can give it for anything except measles and clap.”
“Remarkable,” Clark said, frowning. “Any side effects?”
“None.”
“None?”
“None at all.” Moss chuckled. “It has so many therapeutic effects, there’s hardly room for side effects, eh?”
“What about contraindications?” Contraindications were medical situations in which the drug could not be given.
“Relatively few. There are one or two.”
“What are they?”
“Here,” Moss said. “I’ll give you the literature.” He stood and looked at his watch. “Time for me to be off. Can I leave anything else with you?”
“Some aspirin,” Clark said. “I have a headache.”
Moss frowned. “We have something much better than aspirin. Have you tried Phenimol?”
“No.”
“Great stuff. Antipyretic, anti-inflammatory, and very strong analgesic. No side effects. And it works very well on cancer of the colon, if you happen to have—”
“I don’t.”
“Well, it’s just great for headaches. Just great.”
“Addicting?”
“Well, yes…”
“I’ll take the aspirin,” Clark said.
Moss gave it to him regretfully. As he was leaving, Clark said, “By the way, Pete. You keep up with the experimental drugs, don’t you?”
“Well, I try.”
“Heard anything about a drug that changes urine color?”
“Changes it how?”
“Turns it blue.”
“Blue? No. Why?”
“How about a drug that puts you into a coma?”
Moss laughed. “I can’t imagine a market for it.”
“Neither can I,” Clark said. But the joke started him thinking: suppose Sharon Wilder and Arthur Lewis hadn’t taken the drug accidentally. Suppose they had taken it for a purpose, a specific reason, and the coma was an unrelated side effect…
He shook his head. He didn’t even know that Sharon or the Angel had taken a drug.
After Peter Moss had gone, Clark picked up the bottle of Sybocyl and read the sheet of effects, indications, and contraindications:
Contraindications: Sybocyl should not be used with diabetics, hypertensives, pregnant women, males over 40, infants, children, adolescents, persons with myopia or dental caries. The drug may otherwise be prescribed with absolute safety.