Goldengirl

Dryden was not so hypocritical as to question the manipulation of an individual athlete for profit. From what he had seen of the Goldengirl enterprise, it was simply an intensification of processes widely adopted in training for the Olympics. No doubt there were girls in Russia and East Germany being subjected to regimens just as demanding.

His objection wasn’t on ethical or humanitarian grounds; it was business logic. Serafin couldn’t guarantee gold medals, nor could oriental psychologists, Olympic coaches or ergogenics.

‘What does it mean?’ he asked Serafin, when he returned to show them the way to the gym. ‘Ergogenics?’

‘You’re still mystified?’ said Serafin. ‘It is the science of increasing the capacity of physical and mental effort. How is it achieved? By eliminating fatigue symptoms. You will see.’

By standards elsewhere in the ‘retreat,’ the gym was simple in construction, a functional timber building like a barn, furnished with enough gymnastic apparatus to stiffen an army’s sinews. Lee, white-coated, and Klugman, in a black warm-up suit, were waiting beside a piece of equipment Dryden didn’t recognize. There was a raised platform with a broad rubber strip along its center. At one end were an electric motor, hand controls and an instrument panel.

‘Our treadmill,’ Serafin announced. He touched a button and the rubber moved smoothly over unseen rollers. ‘Don’t look so scandalised, gentlemen. This isn’t an instrument of torture. The treadmill is standard equipment in physiological labs. It is a reliable means of regulating experiments involving forward motion. It controls the leg cadence, you see. We use it here to analyze the movement of running, and additionally as a training device.’ He turned off the power. ‘This is the part of the schedule set aside for what we call ergogenics. This afternoon you will see how it is possible to raise the quality of a training session. Goldengirl will shortly give a demonstration of the principle in action. Dr. Lee and Mr. Klugman must take all the credit for discovering its application to our program, so I shall leave the explanation to them.’

Klugman, his face set grimly for anyone about to communicate a principle, indicated that he was not the vocal side of the presentation by unzipping the top of his warm-ups to reveal a whistle on a cord nestling in the growth of black hair there. He jerked it to his lips and blew a short blast.

From a door at the end Goldengirl came running. She was wearing her gold leotard and white gym shoes; from the fluent movement of her breasts, nothing else. She stopped a yard from Klugman and stood erect, her eyes dipping a fraction to look into his. Her radiance during the press conference had given way to the expression of elegant insouciance Dryden remembered from the film.

Klugman issued instructions: ‘You are to demonstrate your ability to run at a speed of 400 metres per minute. When I tell you, step on the treadmill and keep striding for as long as you can. I shall call out twenty-second intervals, so you will know how you are doing. Okay?’

Goldengirl fractionally inclined her head.

An Accusplit electronic stopwatch with a digital display was pressed into Dryden’s hand by Serafin. Lee and Valenti were given them too.

Lee started the treadmill. Goldengirl had mounted the platform and was waiting for the order to step on the moving belt.

‘There’s a delay while we get up to the required speed,’ Klugman explained. ‘Don’t start your watches before Dr. Lee gives the word.’ He put out a finger and tapped Goldengirl’s calf. ‘Okay.’

She stepped on, and began the unproductive exercise of running without forward movement, building speed in response to the motor’s acceleration.

‘Now,’ said Lee.

They touched off the timers.

She had whipped up her stride to a little below sprinting pace, compelled by the mechanism to drive her leading leg well forward to sustain the rate.

Lee turned his back on her and began speaking. ‘This is a simple demonstration of a phenomenon first noted sixty years ago by an American physiologist named Nicholson. He used a piece of apparatus called a Mosso ergograph which is obsolete now, but he obtained results which have been borne out by investigations since.’

‘Twenty seconds,’ said Klugman.

‘In 1936, the Russian scientists Nemtsova and Shatenshteyn, working with weights and a bicycle ergometer, found clear metabolic evidence to support Nicholson’s observations, by measuring oxygen consumption, pulse rates and chronaxia.’

‘Jesus! What’s that?’ asked Valenti.

‘Chronaxia relates to the response of muscles to an electric current. The minimum amount of current that produces a measurable response in a given muscle is known as the threshold stimulus. Chronaxia is the time a current of twice this strength takes to produce a response.’

‘One minute,’ said Klugman.

‘You give the dame electric shocks?’ Valenti inquired.

Lee shook his head. ‘I didn’t say that. I was describing the Russian experiment.’