Limitless

‘OK,’ I said, ‘it doesn’t have a name yet and they’ve done all the clinical trials and it’s FDA-approved, but what the fuck is it?’

He took a sip from his drink and another hit from his cigarette. Then he said, ‘You know the way drugs fuck you up? You have a good time doing them but then you get all fucked up afterwards? And eventually everything in your life … falls apart, yeah? Sooner or later it happens, am I right?’

I nodded.

‘Well, not with this.’ He indicated the pill in my hand. ‘This little baby is the diametric opposite of that.’

I eased the pill from the palm of my hand on to the surface of the table. Then I took a sip from my drink.

‘Vernon, please – come on, I’m not some high-school kid here looking to score my first dime bag. I mean, I’m not even—’

‘Believe me, Eddie, you’ve never done anything like this. I’m serious. Just take it and see.’

I hadn’t done any drugs in years, and for the exact reasons Vernon had given in his little sales pitch. I did have longings now and again – cravings for that taste in the back of the throat, and for the blissful hours of rapid-fire talk, and for the occasional glimpses of a godlike shape and structure to the conversation of the moment – but none of that was a problem any more, it was like a longing you might have for an earlier phase in your life, or for a lost love, and there was even a mild, narcotic feeling to be had by just entertaining these thoughts, but as for actually trying something new, getting back into all of that, well – I looked down at the tiny white pill in the centre of the table and said, ‘I’m too old for this kind of thing, Vernon—’ ‘There are no physical side-effects if that’s what you’re worried about. They’ve identified these receptors in the brain that can activate specific circuits and …’

‘Look,’ I was becoming exasperated, ‘I really don’t—’

Just then a phone started ringing, a cellphone. Since I didn’t have one myself, I figured it had to be Vernon’s. He reached into a side pocket of his jacket and pulled it out. As he was opening the flap and searching for the right button, he said, nodding down at the pill, ‘Let me tell you, Eddie, that thing will solve any problems you’re having with this book of yours.’

As he raised the phone to his ear and spoke into it, I looked at him in disbelief.

‘Gant.’

He really had changed, and in a way that was quite curious. He was the same guy, clearly, but he appeared to have developed – or grown – a different personality.

‘When?’

He picked up his drink and swirled the contents of the glass around a bit.

‘I know, but when?’

He looked over his left shoulder and then, immediately, back at his watch.

‘Tell him we can’t do that. He knows that’s out of the question. We absolutely can’t do that.’

He waved a hand in the air dismissively.

I took a sip from my own drink and started lighting up a Camel. Here I was – look at me – pissing the afternoon away with my ex-brother-in-law. I’d certainly had no idea when I left the apartment an hour or so before, to go for a walk, that I’d be ending up in a bar. And certainly not with my ex-brother-in-law, Vernon fucking Gant.

I shook my head and took another sip from my drink.

‘No, you better tell him – and now.’ He started getting up. ‘Look, I’ll be there in ten, fifteen minutes.’

Straightening out his jacket with his free hand, he said, ‘No way, I’m telling you. Just wait, I’ll be there.’

He turned off the phone and put it back into the side pocket of his jacket.

‘Fucking people,’ he said, looking down at me and shaking his head, as if I’d understand.

‘Problems?’ I said.

‘Yeah, you better believe that.’ He took his wallet out. ‘And I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave you here, Eddie. I’m sorry.’

He took a business card from his wallet and placed it carefully down on the table. He put it right beside the little white tablet.

‘By the way,’ he said, nodding down at the tablet, ‘that’s on the house.’

‘I don’t want it, Vernon.’

He winked at me. ‘Don’t be ungrateful now. You know how much those things cost?’

I shook my head.

He stepped out of the booth and took a second to shimmy his loose-fitting suit into position. Then he looked directly at me. ‘Five hundred bucks a pop.’

‘What?’

‘You heard me.’

I looked down at the tablet. Five hundred dollars for that?

‘I’ll take care of the drinks,’ he said and wandered over towards the bar. I watched him as he paid the waitress. Then he indicated back in the direction of our booth. That probably meant another drink – compliments of the big man in the expensive suit.

On his way out of the bar, Vernon threw me a sidelong glance that said, Take it easy, my friend, paused, and then added, and make sure you call me now.

Yeah, yeah.

I sat there for a while pondering the fact that not only did I not do drugs any more, I didn’t drink in the afternoons any more either. But here I was, doing just that – at which point the waitress arrived over with the second whiskey sour.