Chapter Eight
Guinea Pigs
Fifteen years had passed since Walt volunteered to try the alphega diet. Now he, like many of the other residents was bored, tired of the unnatural daily routine and the inane games played by the inmates. Walt found some refuge in his HED. Despite his aversion, he had mastered the Myrian tongue, and followed the programmes with ease.
He often wondered what had happened to the Darsian and Bellican communities over the past few years, and thought he might find clues despite the highly censored nature of the programmes. Unfortunately, the news was a constant rehash of Myrian achievements in Arts and Science, a glorification of the military, and a celebration of the high level of culture enjoyed by the Myrian people. There was never any reference to other immigrant groups. The programmes always favourably compared the achievements of Myrian society to the barbaric levels supposedly existing in other Terran countries. Walt began to wonder if his people had ceased to exist.
It came as quite a shock one morning when a news flash from MRP headquarters interrupted the entertainment.
"ALPHEGA for ALL!"
This was already the case at the Hollinger. Rick and Des, the two bachelors who had refused the diet, had long since passed away; Rick from a heart attack whilst trying to outpace another resident in the swimming pool, and Des from lung cancer. Everyone else seemed to be in perfect health.
What would happen to the Alliance? Walt just knew that Howie would have nothing to do with any MRP policy, no matter how beneficial it might prove to be. Would they be able to survive?
A month passed. Walt sat in front of his HED screen waiting to be lulled into the compulsory afternoon nap, called dream time by the staff. The sound of an alarm broke into the soporific HED program.
"All residents are required to report to the boardroom immediately."
Walt didn't recognize the authoritative male voice on the intercom. Something was wrong. Caroline always made routine announcements.
When he entered the boardroom, Walter saw a grim faced Caroline sitting at the head of the huge walnut conference table. Other residents occupied their usual spots.
They had become so regimented over the years. Hilda was late as usual, probably dolling herself up. But where were George Vatne and his gorgeous wife, Millie?
After Hilda had finally strutted to her place at the table, Caroline stood, wiping a tear from her usual stolid features.
"Haven't I done everything in my power to make you happy here? How could you do such a thing?"
Walt looked around the table. From the shocked looks and exaggerated shrugs it was obvious that no one else knew what she was talking about.
"Some of you here must be in on the scheme. What a stupid, stupid thing you've done. Now I have state security breathing down my neck. You'd better confess."
"To what?" said Walt, exasperated.
"To the interrogators. You may as well go first, Walt. One is waiting for you in my office. For my sake tell him what he wants to know."
Walt, fearing the worst, knocked on the oak-panelled door leading into Caroline's office. A booming bass baritone answered his timorous tap.
"Come in."
A bearded man, hefty by Myrian standards, and dressed in a blue military uniform, rose to greet Walt as he squeaked across the polished maple floor to the straight backed wooden chair situated in front of Caroline's antique desk.
Who had replaced Caroline's favourite painting that normally hung on the wall behind her desk, with a flattering portrait of the Myrian President in full regalia?
The officer extended his arm across the wide expanse of desk. Walt reluctantly accepted the proffered hand. The grip was firm.
"Please take a seat, Mr..."
"Born, Sir. Walter Born."
"Straight to business, Mr. Born. Are you friendly with a resident named George Vatne?"
"I wouldn't say friendly, Sir. We occasionally play cards."
"Would you say he was happy here?"
How was he supposed to answer such a question? George was a chronic complainer and had been very moody lately.
"I think he felt restrained, Sir."
"What do you mean, restrained?"
"Well when we first arrived at the Home we were allowed to wander the estate at will. George, a keen outdoorsman, loved hiking, fishing, hunting. He was in his element. He got really upset when the perimeter fence was installed... just after we started on the alphega diet."
"That was for your own good."
"It was?"
Walt had difficulty concealing his incredulity.
"Let me explain," said the interrogator, rising from Caroline's plush leather chair, continuously stroking his full beard.
Was he pondering what to reveal?
"You seem to be an intelligent fellow. Why do you think you are here at the Hollinger Home?"
"Pretty obvious I would say. You are using us as guinea pigs to test the alphega diet."
"I assure you, Mr. Born, that you are not guinea pigs. We have done extensive animal testing elsewhere. Only when we were sure of its beneficial effects did we start you on the diet. You have to admit the results have been impressive."
"I've never felt better, but I don't enjoy the strict routine and living like a nocturnal animal."
"It's essential."
"Why?"
Again the interrogator paused before continuing. "Our studies have shown that when animals fed on alphega are exposed to direct sunlight they start a process of dehydration leading to eventual death. That is why we are so concerned about Mr. Vatne. Have you any idea where we could find him before it's too late?"
"His wife might know."
"She is being interrogated as we speak. Do you think he would have any alphega with him?"
"I doubt it. It's not exactly tasty, and Caroline keeps a close watch on the supply."
"Then he's probably doomed."
"Don't tell me there's another problem with this damned drug."
"There might be. We only have animal tests to go by, but it seems that there are terrible consequences of alphega withdrawal. "
"Terrible consequences?"
This had always seemed too good to be true.
" In our tests the animals reverted to their true biological age at an unsustainable rate suffering great pain in the process. The scientists had to put the poor creatures out of their misery."
What if humans suffered the same effects?
Walt, no longer intimidated, gave vent to his thoughts. "My god, we are like test animals. You have the power of life and death over us. If we follow the diet and your infernal procedures who knows how long we might live. Remove the alphega and we suffer an agonising death. You don't leave us much choice, do you?"
The MM officer, ignoring Walter's rant, repeated the question.
"Where has George Vatne gone? He is possibly your saviour. If we can find his body, there will be no need to start testing alphega withdrawal on one of you."
"You wouldn't dare."
"Oh yes we would, Mr. Born. I assure you, we would. Please send in the next guinea pig after you leave."
Three days later, all the inmates attended a memorial service held in the grounds of the Hollinger family cemetery. Walter had read somewhere that the average Darsian male body contained approximately 60% water. Looking at the wrinkled emaciated corpse in the open casket he thought the estimate was pretty close.