The Andromeda Strain (15 page)

“Something’s wrong,” Leavitt said. “Did you remove everything?”

“Yes,” Hall said.

“Rings, watch, everything?”

Hall looked at his hands. He still had his watch on.

“Go back,” Leavitt said. “Put it in your locker.”

Hall did. When he came back, they started down the corridor a second time. The gate remained open, and there was no alarm.

“Automatic as well?” Hall said.

“Yes,” Leavitt said. “It picks up any foreign object. When we installed it, we were worried because we knew it would pick up glass eyes, cardiac pacemakers, false teeth—anything at all. But fortunately nobody on the project has these things.”

“Fillings?”

“It is programmed to ignore fillings.”

“How does it work?”

“Some kind of capacitance phenomenon. I don’t really understand it,” Leavitt said.

They passed a sign that said:

YOU ARE NOW ENTERING LEVEL I PROCEED DIRECTLY TO IMMUNIZATION CONTROL

Hall noticed that all the walls were red. He mentioned this to Leavitt.

“Yes,” Leavitt said. “All levels are painted a different color. Level I is red; II, yellow; III, white; IV, green; and V, blue.”

“Any particular reason for the choice?”

“It seems,” Leavitt said, “that the Navy sponsored some studies a few years back on the psychological effects of colored environments. Those studies have been applied here.”

They came to Immunization. A door slid back revealing three glass booths. Leavitt said, “Just sit down in one of them.”

“I suppose this is automatic, too?”

“Of course.”

Hall entered a booth and closed the door behind him. There was a couch, and a mass of complex equipment. In front of the couch was a television screen, which showed several lighted points.

“Sit down,” said a flat mechanical voice. “Sit down. Sit down.”

He sat on the couch.

“Observe the screen before you. Place your body on the couch so that all points are obliterated.”

He looked at the screen. He now saw that the points were arranged in the shape of a man:

He shifted his body, and one by one the spots disappeared.

“Very good,” said the voice. “We may now proceed. State your name for the record. Last name first, first name last.”

“Mark Hall,” he said.

“State your name for the record. Last name first, first name last.”

Simultaneously, on the screen appeared the words:

SUBJECT HAS GIVEN UNCODABLE RESPONSE

“Hall, Mark.”

“Thank you for your cooperation,” said the voice. “Please recite, ‘Mary had a little lamb.’ ”

“You’re kidding,” Hall said.

There was a pause, and the faint sound of relays and circuits clicking. The screen again showed:

SUBJECT HAS GIVEN UNCODABLE RESPONSE

“Please recite.”

Feeling rather foolish, Hall said, “Mary had a little lamb, its fleece was white as snow, and everywhere that Mary went, the lamb was sure to go.”

Another pause. Then the voice: “Thank you for your cooperation.” And the screen said:

ANALYZER CONFIRMS IDENTITY HALL, MARK

“Please listen closely,” said the mechanical voice. “You will answer the following questions with a yes or no reply. Make no other response. Have you received a smallpox vaccination within the last twelve months?”

“Yes.”

“Diphtheria?”

“Yes.”

“Typhoid and paratyphoid A and B?”

“Yes.”

“Tetanus toxoid?”

“Yes.”

“Yellow fever?”

“Yes, yes, yes. I had them all.”

“Just answer the question please. Uncooperative subjects waste valuable computer time.”

“Yes,” Hall said, subdued. When he had joined the Wildfire team, he had undergone immunizations for everything imaginable, even plague and cholera, which had to be renewed every six months, and gamma-globulin shots for viral infection.

“Have you ever contracted tuberculosis or other mycobacterial disease, or had a positive skin test for tuberculosis?”

“No.”

“Have you ever contracted syphilis or other spirochetal disease, or had a positive serological test for syphilis?”

“No.”

“Have you contracted within the past year any gram-positive bacterial infection, such as streptococcus, staphylococcus, or pneumococcus?”

“No.”

“Any gram-negative infection, such as gonococcus, meningeococcus, proteus, pseudomonas, salmonella, or shigella?”

“No.”

“Have you contracted any recent or past fungal infection, including blastomycosis, histoplasmosis, or coccidiomycosis, or had a positive skin test for any fungal disease?”

“No.”

“Have you had any recent viral infection, including poliomyelitis, hepatitis, mononucleosis, mumps, measles, varicella, or herpes?”

“No.”

“Any warts?”

“No.”

“Have you any known allergies?”

“Yes, to ragweed pollen.”

On the screen appeared the words:

ROGEEN PALEN

And then after a moment:

UNCODABLE RESPONSE

“Please repeat your response slowly for our memory cells.”

Very distinctly, he said, “Ragweed pollen.”

On the screen:

RAGWEED POLLEN CODED

“Are you allergic to albumen?” continued the voice.

“No.”

“This ends the formal questions. Please undress and return to the couch, obliterating the points as before.”

He did so. A moment later, an ultraviolet lamp swung out on a long arm and moved close to his body. Next to the lamp was some kind of scanning eye. Watching the screen he could see the computer print of the scan, beginning with his feet.

“This is a scan for fungus,” the voice announced. After several minutes, Hall was ordered to lie on his stomach, and the process was repeated. He was then told to lie on his back once more and align himself with the dots.

“Physical parameters will now be measured,” the voice said. “You are requested to lie quietly while the examination is conducted.”

A variety of leads snaked out at him and were attached by mechanical hands to his body. Some he could understand—the half-dozen leads over his chest for an electrocardiogram, and twenty-one on his head for an electroencephalogram. But others were fixed on his stomach, his arms, and his legs.

“Please raise your left hand,” said the voice.

Hall did. From above, a mechanical hand came down, with an electric eye fixed on either side of it. The mechanical hand examined Hall’s.

“Place your hand on the board to the left. Do not move. You will feel a slight prick as the intravenous needle is inserted.”

Hall looked over at the screen. It flashed a color image of his hand, with the veins showing in a pattern of green against a blue background. Obviously the machine worked by sensing heat. He was about to protest when he felt a brief sting.

He looked back. The needle was in.

“Now then, just lie quietly. Relax.”

For fifteen seconds, the machinery whirred and clattered. Then the leads were withdrawn. The mechanical hands placed a neat Band-Aid over the intravenous puncture.

“This completes your physical parameters,” the voice said.

“Can I get dressed now?”

“Please sit up with your right shoulder facing the television screen. You will receive pneumatic injections.”

A gun with a thick cable came out of one wall, pressed up against the skin of his shoulder, and fired. There was a hissing sound and a brief pain.

“Now you may dress,” said the voice. “Be advised that you may feel dizzy for a few hours. You have received booster immunizations and gamma G. If you feel dizzy, sit down. If you suffer systemic effects such as nausea, vomiting, or fever, report at once to Level Control. Is that clear?”

“Yes.”

“The exit is to your right. Thank you for your cooperation. This recording is now ended.”

* * *

Hall walked with Leavitt down a long red corridor. His arm ached from the injection.

“That machine,” Hall said. “You’d better not let the AMA find out about it.”

“We haven’t,” Leavitt said.

In fact, the electronic body analyzer had been developed by Sandeman Industries in 1965, under a general government contract to produce body monitors for astronauts in space. It was understood by the government at that time that such a device, though expensive at a cost of $87,000 each, would eventually replace the human physician as a diagnostic instrument. The difficulties, for both doctor and patient, of adjusting to this new machine were recognized by everyone. The government did not plan to release the EBA until 1971, and then only to certain large hospital facilities.

Walking along the corridor, Hall noticed that the walls were slightly curved.

“Where exactly are we?”

“On the perimeter of Level I. To our left are all the laboratories. To the right is nothing but solid rock.”

Several people were walking in the corridor. Everyone wore pink jumpsuits. They all seemed serious and busy.

“Where are the others on the team?” Hall said.

“Right here,” Leavitt said. He opened a door marked CONFERENCE 7, and they entered a room with a large hardwood table. Stone was there, standing stiffly erect and alert, as if he had just taken a cold shower. Alongside him, Burton, the pathologist, somehow appeared sloppy and confused, and there was a kind of tired fright in his eyes.

They all exchanged greetings and sat down. Stone reached into his pocket and removed two keys. One was silver, the other red. The red one had a chain attached to it. He gave it to Hall.

“Put it around your neck,” he said.

Hall looked at it. “What’s this?”

Leavitt said, “I’m afraid Mark is still unclear about the Odd Man.”

“I thought that he would read it on the plane—”

“His file was edited.”

“I see.” Stone turned to Hall. “You know nothing about the Odd Man?”

“Nothing,” Hall said, frowning at the key.

“Nobody told you that a major factor in your selection to the team was your single status?”

“What does that have to do—”

“The fact of the matter is,” Stone said, “that you are the Odd Man. You are the key to all this. Quite literally.”

He took his own key and walked to a corner of the room. He pushed a hidden button and the wood paneling slid away to reveal a burnished metal console. He inserted his key into a lock and twisted it. A green light on the console flashed on; he stepped back. The paneling slid into place.

“At the lowest level of this laboratory is an automatic atomic self-destruct device,” Stone said. “It is controlled from within the laboratory. I have just inserted my key and armed the mechanism. The device is ready for detonation. The key on this level cannot be removed; it is now locked in place. Your key, on the other hand, can be inserted and removed again. There is a three-minute delay between the time detonation locks in and the time the bomb goes off. That period is to provide you time to think, and perhaps call it all off.”

Hall was still frowning. “But why me?”

“Because you are single. We had to have one unmarried man.”

Stone opened a briefcase and withdrew a file. He gave it to Hall. “Read that.”

It was a Wildfire file.

“Page 255,” Stone said.

Hall turned to it.

Project: Wildfire

ALTERATIONS

1.
Millipore Filters
, insertion into ventilatory system. Initial spec filters unilayer styrilene, with maximal efficiency of 97.4% trapping. Replaced in 1966 when Upjohn developed filters capable of trapping organisms of size up to one micron. Trapping at 90% efficiency per leaf, causing triple-layered membrance to give results of 99.9%. Infective ratio of .1% remainder too low to be harmful. Cost factor of four- or five-layered membrance removing all but .001% considered prohibitive for added gain. Tolerance parameter of 1/1,000 considered sufficient. Installation completed 8/12/66.