Beautiful Blood

“Rhetorical questions require no answer, but never mind. I thank the councilman for his comment, because it brings me round to my next point.” Rosacher moved to a window and gazed out across the valley. “Teocinte is poor. Of all the valley towns, it has—or had—the highest incidence of crime. Morningshade is its least prosperous and most dangerous quarter. The economy of the town is based upon agrarian concerns and a handful of mining operations. These provide an excellent life for a small minority, but the people of Morningshade and the various outlying communities do not fully participate in that economy. Until recently, they have subsisted chiefly by means of preying upon the wealthy and upon one another. Over the past four years, however, the incidence of crime has steadily dropped in Morningshade. When I dwelled there we only saw the constabulary when a crime had been perpetrated against the wealthy. Now, I’m told, they’re scarcely seen at all. There has been a precipitous drop in crime and this is directly attributable to use of mab. I have hundreds…”

“Balderdash!” said Rooney.

“I have hundreds of addicts in my employ,” said Rosacher, ignoring him. “And I expect to employ hundreds more during the next twelve months alone. They none of them exhibit the violent and erratic behavior generally ascribed to those addicted to other drugs. They’re responsible employees who come to work each day, perform their tasks, and go home at night to their pipe and slippers. In this case, their pipe holds a pellet of mab and the woman who brings their supper is more beautiful than the Queen of Astrikhan. The supper she brings, whether porridge or a chunk of salt pork, has a flavor comparable to the finest of viands. They sleep on soft mattresses and scented sheets, not pallets of straw. They live each in their own tiny palace beside which runs not a sewer, but a sparkling stream. Their lives are infinitely better than they were…and all because of mab.

“Unlike other addictive drugs, one does not develop a tolerance for mab. A single dose taken each night lasts until the next night. True, the effect diminishes over the following day, but it makes one’s labors less harsh. Rather than debilitating the addict, mab encourages him to take care of himself, to nurture his body. He now has reason to live, whereas with opium he hopes at best to survive and, truly, places a low value on survival. One might surmise that mab disposes the addict toward this cast of mind. What would you call a chemical compound that achieves those ends? That treats the worst symptoms of a community and causes it to function more smoothly? That makes its citizens content with their lot? Is it a drug, or is it a tonic? I say a tonic. In fact, that is how I’ve begun to market the drug in Port Chantay.”

Councilman Rooney puffed himself up to full bloat and said, “Sir, you are the Devil.”

“The Devil is never far from any of us, sir. Yet I’ll wager I am closer to God than the priests who will soon inhabit the palace you’re building at the end of the square.”

“I’ve had a stomachful of this!” Rooney said; then, addressing the table: “Must we listen to more of his spew?”

A mild voice responded, “Oh, I think we should hear him out.”

From the way the others reacted to the man who had spoken, the youngest of the councilmen, Jean-Daniel Breque, turning toward him like dogs that have heard a piercing whistle, Rosacher understood that he had misread the council’s dynamic. Councilman Breque was a small, sturdily built man with a largish head, a professorial beard shot through by a few gray threads, and wire spectacles. He seemed bemused by the proceedings, but it was evident that his bemusement had less to do with Rosacher’s proposal than with the general reaction to it.

“You make a cogent point,” he said to Rosacher. “But there are spiritual issues to be considered, are there not?”

“If by spiritual you’re referring to the sensibilities of the Church…yes. The Church is a powerful concern. They must be paid their tribute. That said, permit me to ask you this. Where was the Church three years ago? Ten years ago? Fifty years ago? The sole reason for their interest in Teocinte is that it has become worth their while to put a franchise here. Now that there’s an economy they can tap into, they’re suddenly appalled by the sorry state of our souls. My word on it, should you write a law that criminalizes mab, they’ll come to you and say, ‘Let’s be tolerant now. We don’t want the poor to be flung down from their heaven, illusory though it may be. Give us time to work our magic, to wean them from the drug and redirect their loyalties, and we will rid you of Rosacher in due course.’ They’re no different from me. They’re a business that offers consolation as a product…only theirs is an inferior product. They want to be paid and they’ll take the money wherever they find it, even from a competitor. So I’ll pay them and that moral outrage you’re hearing now will be greatly muted.”