Drug of Choice

She sat up and smiled uncertainly as they entered. “Darling?” she said, in a questioning voice. “Yes, darling,” Lefevre said. “It’s me.”

“Oh,” the girl said, smiling happily, “I was waiting for you.”

“I’m here now.”

She smiled, then looked at Clark. “But have you brought someone else with you?”

“No, darling. You must be mistaken. I am alone.”

“Oh,” the girl said, staring right at Clark. “I must have been mistaken. Do you love me very much?”

“Very much, darling.”

“Have you come to make love to me?”

“Yes,” Lefevre said.

“I’m glad,” the girl said.

“You just undress, and get into bed,” Lefevre said. “I’m going into the bathroom for a moment.”

“All right,” the girl said. She stood up and began to remove her bikini. Clark and Lefevre remained standing near the bed.

“I don’t think you can hear me talking in the bathroom, darling,” Lefevre said.

“No, I can’t,” she said.

“You see,” Lefevre said to Clark, “she is totally happy with sensations which she manufactures for herself. You’ll notice the tentative way she speaks. That is because she requires the baseline stimulus, the minimal directions, from someone on the outside. From me. Whatever I tell her, she accepts. If I tell her you are not in the room, then of course you are not.”

Clark said, “Who does she think you are?”

“I don’t know,” Lefevre said. “And I don’t want to push it. You’ll soon come to understand that people on this drug have a way of telling you what kind of sensations they want to experience. She undoubtedly thinks I’m her husband or lover or whoever it is she wants to believe I am. I have done nothing to change that preconception. If I were to announce, for example, that I were her father, then she would panic. But I haven’t announced that I have only followed her cues, and reinforced the appropriate ones.”

“And she accepts this, because of the drug.”

“Yes. But the drug has other powers, a whole new order of powers on a scale quite undreamed of. Because when she hears the sound of the tuning fork — well, watch for yourself.”

The girl was by now in bed, the sheets pulled up to her chin. She stared calmly at the ceiling.

“Darling,” she said.

“I’m here,” Lefevre said. “I love you.”

The girl did not move. She continued to stare at the ceiling.

“You make love beautifully,” she said.

Abruptly, Lefevre struck the tuning fork. The girl’s eyes snapped shut and her body went rigid for a moment and then relaxed. She seemed suddenly fast asleep.

Clark began to understand. “She’s in a coma,” he said.

“Yes. Unarousable for a period of twelve to sixteen hours, but quite safe, I assure you. In fact she is experiencing sensations of fantastic pleasure. That is the beauty of the drug: it stimulates hypothalamic pleasure centers directly, in combination with the correct auditory stimuli. For twelve hours she will experience nothing but pure, total, delightful pleasure.”

“And afterward?”

“She will get more drug. And more again, up until the morning of her departure. The doses will be tapered on that final day; she will be just beginning to awake fully when she is aboard the seaplane, taking off for Nassau. When she wakes up, she will be refreshed, tanned, invigorated — and she will carry beautiful memories back with her.”

“All quite neat.”

“Yes indeed,” Lefevre said. “This drug is a significant breakthrough.”

They walked out of the room, down the hallway. Clark said, “What exactly is the drug?”

“We’re not certain. It hasn’t been fully analyzed yet.”

“But you’re administering it—”

“Oh yes,” Lefevre said, with a wave of his hand, “but it’s quite safe. You can see that for yourself. Perfectly safe.”

“What’s it called?”

“It hasn’t got a name. After all, why name it? Who needs to know its name? It will never be marketed, never be made available to the public. Can you imagine what would happen if it were available?” Lefevre shook his head. “The whole world would be lying around in a coma. Industry would grind to a halt. Commerce would cease. Wars would end in mid-battle. Life as we know it would simply stop.”

Clark said nothing.

“When we at Advance developed this drug, we were aware of its potential. We were most careful to guard it, and to plan for its limited commercial use. In this setting, you see, the drug is superb. People come here, have a fine time, and go home refreshed and happy. They return to normal, active lives none the worse for their experience — indeed, much improved. Don’t you think we’ve accomplished something marvelous?”

“No,” Clark said.

“That’s very odd,” Lefevre said. “An opinion like that, coming from an employee of the corporation.”

“What corporation?”

“Advance, of course. Why do you think we woke you up? You’ve got to start working right now.”

Back in his office, Lefevre showed him the material. “You see,” he said, “there’s no question about it. You are an employee of Advance. Here is the contract you signed when you visited the Santa Monica office.”

He pushed a photostat of a form across the desk.

“I signed—”