"It went like silk," he reports. "That's a nice place she's got there.
Two bedrooms and a swimming pool. And the furniture didn't come from the Salvation Army."
"Find out anything?"
"Yeah. She's got like a jillion jars and bottles in her bedroom and bathroom. They look like perfumes and lotions and makeup stuff – Most of them have plain white labels on them that just say Mcwhortle Laboratory with a code number."
"Son of a bitch!"
"So I says to the Fiddler broad, You must like perfume." And she says, Free samples. From my boyfriend." I look at him. "How do you figure it, Teddy?"
"I'm guessing the boyfriend is the guy in the white car.
He's the chemist at Mcwhortle Laboratory you been looking for.
Willie Brevoort isn't getting his information from the chemist, he's getting it from Jessica Fiddler."
I think about that awhile. "Yeah," I says, "that makes sense. She pumps the chemist and sells Willie everything the guy tells her." , "That's how I see it."
"So all we gotta do is find out who's driving the white car.
Once we do that, we can offer him a piece of change for the ZAP pill.
And if that don't work, you can lean on him."
"What if I can't find out who's driving the white car?
"Then you can lean on Jessica Fiddler."
"I'd like that," Teddy says. he development of Cuddle was taking more time Tand effort than I had anticipated.
As a professional perfumer, I have always believed that scents have the ability to alter moods. But now I was working on a fragrance that would, if successful, alter behavior. And I found that prospect somewhat disturbing.
I was familiar with pheromones, of course, those chemical substances secreted by animals that have the power to alter behavior of other animals of the same species. It seemed to me that in developing Cuddle I was attempting to create a human pheromone, and I wasn't certain of what the final effect might be.
During our drive to the laboratory one morning in August, I asked Gregory Barrow if he had ever worked with psychoactive drugs that affected behavior and personality. I think the question startled him.
"I've had limited experience," he said. "Why do you ask?" , "I was wondering if you had any strong feelings about them, for or against."
"I think they can be a benefit," he said carefully, when properly used."
"But you see nothing ethically wrong in psychochemicals per se?"
"No," he said. "If drugs can be used to alleviate physical pain and treat human disease, I see no reason why they shouldn't be used to ease mental pain and psychic disorders. If a drug was developed to cure or control schizophrenia, for instance, how could one possibly object to it."
"I suppose you're right," I said doubtfully. "But drugs that alter behavior and personality make me a little uneasy. It's like playing God, isn't it?"
"So is prescribing aspirin," he said.
"I'm not doing a very good job of explaining what I mean," I said.
"What about things like marijuana, LSD, heroin, and cocaine. They affect mood, behavior, personality. Would you defend them?"
"Of course not. They can be psychologically or physiologically addictive and do a great deal of harm. But psychochemicals that benefit the subject, that enable him or her to function as a normal human being, are certainly defensible."
I looked at him. "What is a normal human being?" I asked.
"Please define."
He gave me a half-smile, but he didn't answer.
It was not a smartass question on my part because, to be perfectly frank, I was beginning to doubt my own normality. I had been acting very strangely.
Usually when I make up my mind to do something, I do it. I had chided Greg for being indecisive, and now I found myself behaving just as irresolutely. I told Herman I intended to consult an attorney about a divorce. At the time I said it, I meant it. But I was postponing that final act, finding all kinds of reasons to put it off.
I tried to analyze myself, to understand why I was dithering.
The answer, which came as more of a shock to me than perhaps it does to you, was that I loved the man.
He was everything I've said he was, a boot, a drunk, a philanderer.
But love, I sadly concluded, is not a rational emotion. Even recognizing Herman's faults and excesses could not kill what I felt for him. I was at once astonished and ashamed of myself, and even wondered if my intense caring for him was not an aftereffect of my inhalation of aerosolized oxytocin.
I went back to my laboratory with renewed determination to succeed.
What had been a vague idea now became a definite plan that might, just might, provide a solution to my personal problems.
If I could develop a hormone-based fragrance that increased tender affection, it seemed possible that I could alter Herman's behavior in a way that would benefit our family. At that point in my research I couldn't even guess if the effects of such a psychoactive perfume would be temporary or lasting. That was a question that could only be answered after the scent was created.
But I was so excited by the prospect that I simply rejected all those qualms that had made me ask Greg Barrow about the ethicality of behavior-altering drugs. it seemed to me that Cuddle, if perfected, could, have no ill effects on the user or on persons who smelled the fragrance.
I had now developed a few ounces of a perfume that contained a minuscule amount of the aerosolized oxytocin. I then used an alcohol solution as a diluter and put the mixture into a spray bottle that resembled an atomizer. I applied the scent to the inside of my left wrist and sniffed cautiously.
All I could recognize were the floral essences that served as a carrier for the hormone. There was no aroma of mauve, and I was aware of no changes in my mood or behavior. So I strengthened the formulation in stages, gradually increasing the proportion of the oxytocin and decreasing the volume of the alcohol diluter.
It was while these time-consuming experiments were proceeding that I had another conversation with Greg Barrow about psychochemicals. We were heading home one evening (I was doing the driving that week) when he suddenly said, "You may be right."
I was startled. "About what, Greg?"
"About psychoactive drugs. You said that anything designed to alter behavior and personality made you uneasy. You said it was like playing God."
"Well, I've changed my mind about that," I told him. "If psychochemicals can be a benefit and don't have any bad side effects, I see no reason why they shouldn't be developed and prescribed."
"You seem to have overcome your doubts," he said, "but you have stirred up mine. Let me give you a hypothetical case. What would you think of a psychoactive drug designed to make the user behave in a manner that is generally considered to be antisocial?"
"I would be against that," I said. "Definitely."
"Even if it was intended for limited and strictly controlled use? Even if the end result could be shown to have, say, a patriotic benefit?"
"Greg, you're not working on a poison gas, are you? "
"Of course not."
"Well, your hypothetical case sounds like it. If a psychoactive drug results in the user flaunting the norms of society, then it's wrong.
It's unethical and immoral to develop it and prescribe it. Patriotism is no excuse. Humanity comes first."
He sighed. "I wish it was as simple as you make it out to be, but it isn't. There is no absolute good' and no absolute bad." There are infinite gradations. For instance, suppose a psychoactive drug was developed that would cause the user to renounce all personal ambition and desire for worldly gain. One pill or injection would induce him to become a Jesus-like personality, give all his wealth to the poor, and spend his days in meditation and seeking spiritual salvation. Would such a drug be a benefit or a curse? To the individual using it and to humanity?"