"Go ahead.”
Successively, Martin called off twenty chemicals, sometimes using the old name, with others the newer code. Each time, without hesitating, Yvonne recited the alternate. Martin closed the book, shaking his head.”That memory of yours still amazes me. I wish I had one like it.”
"Is my memory why you won't let me take Peptide 7?" "That's part of it. Mostly, though, I don't want you running any risks.”
A month ago, Martin had posted a notice at the institute. It was headed: Volunteers Wanted. The notice requested that any staffers who were willing to have Peptide 7 injected into them, for the first series of tests on healthy humans, should sign their names below. The objectives and potential risk were carefully spelled out. Before posting the notice, Martin signed himself. Rao Sastri signed immediately after. Within a few days there were fourteen more signatures, including Yvonne's. From the final list, Martin chose a total of ten volunteers. Yvonne was not among them. When she inquired about her omission, he put her off with, "Perhaps later. Not yet.”
The purpose of the early human testing was not to study positive results from Peptide 7, but to look for any harmful side effects. As Martin explained to Celia by telephone at the time, "We're allowed to do this kind of testing in Britain on our own, though in America you'd need approval from the FDA.”
So far, after twenty days' monitoring of the volunteers, who continued to receive daily doses of Peptide 7, there had been no visible side effects whatever. Martin was delighted, though knowing that much more human testing needed to be done. Yvonne sighed, "I'd like to have some Peptide 7 soon. It's probably the only way I'll ever take my extra weight off. By the way, I bought us kippers for tomorrow.”
Martin beamed and told her, "You're an angel.”
Kippers were his favorite breakfast on weekends, when he could take time to enjoy them. His voice became more serious.”I'm going to see my mother tomorrow. I talked to my father today and he told me the doctors say she hasn't long.”
While the deterioration of Martin's mother had been slow, the progression of her Alzheimer's disease had been relentless. A few months earlier, Martin had had her moved into a Cambridge nursing home where she now floated dimly on the outer edge of life. Martin's father continued to live in a small but pleasant flat that Martin had rented for his parents soon after joining Felding-Roth. "I'm sorry.”
Yvonne reached out, touching his hand in sympathy.”Yes, I'll come. If you don't mind my studying in the car.”
They arranged to leave immediately after breakfast. Martin wanted to stop at his office, briefly, on the way.
Next morning at the institute, while Martin glanced through mail and read a computer printout from the day before, Yvonne wandered into the animal room. He found her there later. She had paused in front of a cage containing several rats and Martin heard her exclaim, "You horny old devil!" He asked, amused, "Who is?" Yvonne turned, then pointed to the cage.”This bunch are some of the homiest little beasts I've ever seen. Just lately, they can't seem to get enough of each other. They'd sooner have sex than eat.” While Martin watched, the rat over whom Yvonne had exclaimed continued copulating with a submissive female, while another pair in an adjoining cage amused themselves likewise. He glanced at typed descriptions on both cages. All the rats, he noted, were receiving the most recent, refined batch of Peptide 7. "You said they were horny 'just lately.' What does that mean?" Yvonne hesitated, then looked sharply at Martin.”I suppose... since they've been getting their injections.”
"And they're not young rats?" "If they were human, they'd draw old-age pensions.”
He laughed and said, "It's probably coincidence.”
Then he wondered, was it? As if reading his mind, Yvonne asked, "What will you do?" "On Monday, I'd like you to check the breeding rate of rats which have had Peptide 7. Let me know if it's average, or above.”
"I don't have to wait until Monday. I can tell you now, it's way above normal. Up to this moment, though, I didn't connect-" Martin said sharply, "Don't connect! Assumptions can lead down false alleys. Just send me what figures you have.”
She said submissively, "All right.”
"After that, set up two new groups of male and female older rats. Keep the groups separate, but let each group cohabit. One group will receive Peptide 7, the other won't. I want a computerized study of the mating habits of both.”
Yvonne giggled.”A computer won't tell you how many times
"I suppose not. But it will keep track of litters. We'll settle for that. " She nodded, and Martin sensed that her mind was on something else. He asked, "What is it?" "I was thinking about a funny thing that happened yesterday. While I was buying those kippers. Mickey Yates is one of your volunteers, isn't he?" "Yes.”
Yates, a lab technician, was the oldest of the Peptide 7 volunteers. He had gone out of his way to be helpful to Martin ever since the incident, several years earlier, involving Celia and the guillotined rat. Being in the testing program was Yates's latest contribution. "Well, I saw his wife in the market and she said how good it was that Mickey's work was making him feel young again.”
"Meaning what?" "I asked her. So she went red and said nowadays Mickey was feeling so 'bouncy and energetic'-those were her words-he was keeping her busy in bed.”
"Did she mean just recently?" "I'm sure of it.”
"And he hadn't before?" "According to her, hardly ever.”
"I'm amazed she'd talk about it.”
Yvonne smiled.”You don't know women very well.”
Martin was thoughtful, then he said, "Let's get in the car. We'll talk on the way to Cambridge.”
At first, while driving, they listened to the news on the radio, which was mostly of politics. It was an exciting, optimistic time in Britain. Two months earlier, a general election had brought to power the first woman prime minister in British history. Now, Margaret Thatcher and her government were injecting new enterprise into a nation which had suffered from too little of it since World War II. At the end of the news, Martin switched off the radio and returned to closer concerns. "I'm worried," he said, "and I don't want any general talk about what we've discussed this morning. You're to keep to yourself what you told me about those rats breeding. Also, don't tell anyone else about the new study. We have to do it, even though I don't like the idea, but keep the results locked up until you give them to me. And no more stories about Mickey Yates and his wife.”
"I'll do all of that," Yvonne said.”But I don't understand why you're worried.”
"Then I'll tell you. It's because we've produced a drug which I hope will be significant, be taken seriously, and become an important disease fighter. But if word gets around that it's some kind of aphrodisiac-as well as inducing weight loss, which may or may not be good after all-it could be the worst thing to happen. It would throw everything we've done into disrepute, could make us look as if we reinvented snake oil.” "I think I understand," Yvonne said.”And now you've explained it, I won't talk. But it'll be hard to stop others.”
Martin said grimly, "That's what I'm afraid of
It was midmorning when they reached Cambridge. Martin drove directly to the nursing home where his mother was being cared for. She was in bed, which was where she spent most of her time, having to be lifted out when necessary. She remembered nothing, not even the simplest things, and-as had been the case for many years gave no flicker of recognition when Martin came close. His mother, Martin thought as he stood with Yvonne beside him, seemed visibly to be wasting away day by day. Her body was emaciated, cheeks gaunt, hair thinning. Even in the earlier declining years-around the time when Celia had visited the old house in the Kite-some vestige of a younger beauty still remained. But now that, too, was gone. It was as if the Alzheimer's, which had eaten away his mother's brain, was devouring her body too. "It's been my dream," Martin said softly to Yvonne, "to help find something to prevent most, or some, of this. It will be years, of course, before we know if we've succeeded. But it's because our research into aging has been so important that I don't want anything to cheapen what we've found.”