Drug of Choice

“What corporation was Sharon worried about?”

“She couldn’t say. That was the trouble. She couldn’t get that clear in her own mind. It was a sort of free-floating, American anxiety. Fear of the great corporation—”

“—in the sky.”

Shine laughed. “I suppose. Anyway, I cured her of it by my usual method: hypnosis. My techniques are unorthodox, but they work. I put her into a deep trance, and then counter-suggested various ego-affective principles. After three sessions, she was convinced that her destiny was in her own hands, that she was free. That’s not really true, of course, but it is an easier delusion to live with.”

“I see,” Clark said.

At that moment, a strikingly beautiful blonde girl appeared by the pool. She could not have been more than eighteen or nineteen, and she wore a very small, very thin red bikini. “Your daughter?”

“My wife,” Dr. Shine said, with a contented sigh.

The girl nodded to them, and dived into the pool. She swam back and forth with long, easy strokes. They watched for a while, then Clark said, “Did you prescribe any drugs for Sharon?”

“No. I do not believe in drugs. They are a waste of time. Psychoactive drugs depend heavily upon suggestion; every clinical study has proven that, beyond question. I prefer to give the suggestion directly, and skip the chemicals.”

“Do you know if she was taking any drugs from other sources?”

“Yes. Certainly she was. Her sexual frustrations were driving her to seek satisfactions in other areas. At one time I was afraid she would become a narcotics addict, but that never happened, fortunately.”

“Did she talk much about drugs?”

“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.”