Drug of Choice

“Oh no. That was just a minor thing. We’ve had major plans for you, right from the start.”

“You mean for the island?”

“Well, no. Other things.”

“Like what?”

“We expect,” Blood said, “to utilize your knowledge of drugs and testing.” He held up his hand. “And please, no tiresome stories of how you will resist us, and refuse us, and fight us. We can make you do it, and if you are wise you will go along willingly. After all, we can make you a rich man.”

The limousine pulled up in front of the Advance building. As they got out, Blood looked at his watch and said, “Behind schedule again. You’re late for your appointment.”

“My appointment?”

“Yes. With the Glow Girl.”

“And what am I supposed to do with her?”

“Examine her, of course,” Blood said. “You’re a doctor; we want a full report on the physical fitness of our girl. After all,” he said, “we’re going to be putting a lot of time, effort and money into her. A hell of a lot.”

There was a room, a desk, an examining couch and a nurse. The girl, wearing a simple skirt and blouse now, sat in a chair facing the desk. She looked back over her shoulder as he came in.

The nurse was matronly and forbidding. He said, “You can leave now. I’ll call you when I need you.”

“A nurse should be in attendance—”

“Get out,” Clark said quietly, “or I’ll kick you out.”

“But Dr. Clark—”

“I’ll worry about Blood, if that’s the problem. Besides,” he said, “the room is bugged.”

The nurse glared at him, but left. Clark walked around behind the desk and sat down. Immediately, he began going through the drawers. The girl watched him silently.

“My name,” he said, “is Roger Clark. I’m a doctor.”

The girl nodded and said nothing. She watched him as he shuffled papers, and poked among the flowers in the vase on the desk. He had no idea what he was looking for: in movies, it was small and black, with wires.

“I’m sorry,” he said, continuing his search, slamming the drawers, “but I don’t know your name.”

“Susan Ryle. With a Y. And I wanted to thank you.”

“Thank me?”

He lifted the dictaphone and peered underneath, then checked the telephone.

“Yes,” she said. “For choosing me. I saw you do it, down there in the front row.”

“Ummm,” Clark said. “I can’t find it.”

“Find what?”

“The microphone. I know there’s one here someplace.”

“But why would there be a microphone—”

“Because this is a very personal sort of corporation,” Clark said. “They take a personal interest in their employees.”

“I like that,” Susan Ryle said. She smiled. She had a lot of even white teeth. Close up, her eyes were dark and enormous.

“Do you? It gets a little wearing.”

“The only thing is,” she said, sitting back and crossing her legs, “I don’t really know what I was hired for.”

“You were hired to be the Glow Girl.”

“Yes, but what’s that?”

“The Glow Girl is a rock and roll singer. You have a group called the Scientific Coming.”

“A rock and roll singer! But I can’t sing a note—”

“They’ll take care of that,” Clark said. “They take care of everything. And you’ll make a lot of money. A well-paid employee is a contented employee.”

“Yes,” Susan Ryle said, but she was frowning. Still thinking about her singing ability. It occurred to Clark that she might not be over-intelligent.

“I suppose they’ll give me voice lessons,” she said.

“I suppose.”

“In a way, it’s exciting.”

“I suppose.”

“Don’t you agree it’s exciting?”

“Frankly,” he said, “no. I think it’s frightening, I think it’s terrifying, but I do not think it is exciting.”

“Oh,” she said. “But aren’t you an employee?”

“I’m well looked-after,” Clark said.

She was silent. He could tell he had confused her, and she had been confused enough at the outset. It wasn’t really fair, taking out his frustration on her.

“Listen,” he said. “As a doctor, I have a piece of advice.”

“Yes?”

“Get out. Get out of the whole thing, right now. Forget the dough, the fame, the bright lights and the limousine pulling up for opening night—”

“What?” She was staring at him.

He threw up his hands. “Just forget the whole damned thing. You’re a nice girl. You’ll make some lucky guys a fine wife. Go out, get married, get divorced, get married again, have some kids, get divorced — do the California thing, and be happy.”

“You’re very peculiar,” she said, looking at him and tugging down at her short skirt.

“I was born under an unlucky star,” Clark said.

“Gee,” she said. “That’s too bad.”

Clark sighed. She was innocent and wide-eyed and lovely. And he would never in a million years make her understand.

He went to the door. “Nurse!”

The examination was brief. The girl was in excellent shape physically. Excellent shape.

He reported to Blood.

“That’s very reassuring to hear,” Blood said.

“She’s a little dumb, of course—”

“Very reassuring,” Blood nodded.

“And you’ll have a lot of work to do, whipping her into some kind of shape as a singer—”

“We are prepared,” he said mildly, “to work.”

“I’m not,” Clark said.

Blood seemed surprised. “I thought we’d been all over this. I thought you had come to understand.”