The Memory Artists Part 25

"Because he feeds me mind-altering drugs. And then pays me to feed him an endless stream of lies on which he bases an endless stream of articles which are endlessly dismissed."49 "Come on, Norval, they're hardly dismissed. He's quoted all the time. And one of his books was a best-seller."

"Which?"

"Smart Drugs."

"You've got got to be kidding. Halcyon bought 75,000 copies of that ... fable, and distributed them to doctors and pharmacists around the world. You want to know why? Because Vorta to be kidding. Halcyon bought 75,000 copies of that ... fable, and distributed them to doctors and pharmacists around the world. You want to know why? Because Vorta strongly strongly recommended one of their drugs. Which is now one of their blockbuster drugs." recommended one of their drugs. Which is now one of their blockbuster drugs."

"How do you know all this?"

"And he only recommended it because they offered him shares in one of their affiliates. A drug-investment house called Helvetia Capital Management."

"How do you know all this?"

"Because I'm writing an article, an expose, on the mad doctor. I'm blowing the proverbial whistle."

"Come on, Nor, be fair-"

"The man's lost it, his circuitry's fried. He'll be checked in any day now, mark my words."

"He's a brilliant researcher, highly regarded around the world! A man who studied under Dr. Penfield, for Christ's sake! Who's sacrificed most of his life working on memory disorders, on cures for-"

"We need a cure for men like him. For doctors who misdiagnose and murder in the name of research and academic advancement. Why do you defend him? Why so loyal? Why can't you see through the b.a.s.t.a.r.d? It doesn't take X-ray vision."

Noel sighed. "Because he was my father's closest friend and because-"

"He was a business acquaintance business acquaintance, who bought drugs from him. And didn't charge for his sessions with you, because he was exploiting exploiting you for his experiments. Yes, he got you a job in the lab-so he could use your research and ideas to write articles under his name. You shouldn't be prost.i.tuting your genius to a thieving little midget like him." you for his experiments. Yes, he got you a job in the lab-so he could use your research and ideas to write articles under his name. You shouldn't be prost.i.tuting your genius to a thieving little midget like him."

"He ... he guided my research, structured the articles, got them published. And he also got me jobs in two other labs, don't forget-when no one else would hire me, when I didn't have any experience or credentials. And he wasn't exploiting me. He was interested in me. He has a sincere love of science-and of the arts too, just like my father. He's devoted his entire life to helping mankind."

"Any nurse with a bedpan has done more for mankind. Volta's patients are valuable to him only as subjects for some new fundable experiment, some new scientific paper. He wouldn't hesitate for a nanosecond to sacrifice human life-animal life goes without saying-for the sake of adding one more particle, one more article, to the great dunghill of fudged research and published irrelevancies."

"What are you ... I can't believe you said that. About sacrificing human life. How can you possibly think that? I just ... don't understand what you have against him. Why can't you leave him alone? He's an old man, getting frailer and frailer-"

"So are n.a.z.i war criminals."

"n.a.z.i war criminals? Norval, you are a master of hyperbole, of shockart. What has he done that could remotely compare?" Norval, you are a master of hyperbole, of shockart. What has he done that could remotely compare?"

"At Buchenwald they experimented on living human beings-to study the effects of artificially induced diseases."

"I repeat: what has he done that could remotely compare? Where do you get all this ... rot?"

Norval paused before speaking, something he rarely did. Was he about to betray a secret? Surely there was no truth to any of this. Noel's breathing stopped as he waited for an answer.

"From his wife and daughter," said Norval.

Noel closed his eyes. "His wife and daughter? Be real. His wife has an agenda, and a divorce lawyer. And his daughter despises him because he stopped her from seeing you!" Be real. His wife has an agenda, and a divorce lawyer. And his daughter despises him because he stopped her from seeing you!"

"Among other reasons."

"So what did they say? What'd they accuse him of?"

"The first controlled induction of Alzheimer's disease in laboratory animals."

Noel bit his lip, scratched the side of his thumb. "It was done for a reason."

"And then in a test group of humans he deliberately induced the disease."

Noel jumped. "Look, Norval, I've heard that ... those stupid rumours before. Do you know who started them? A colleague-a jealous, possibly disturbed archrival-who was fired last month by the university, and not by Vorta. It's a preposterous accusation, which has never been substantiated in any way."

"Do you want to know something about the so-called 'archrival'? This archrival-Charles Ravenscroft-had some astonishing results in clinical trials of an early-onset AD drug he developed. PYY-16. Which became SB-666."

"SB-666? Vorta discovered that on his own."

"Ravenscroft kept his results secret just before publishing them. But Volta got an early peek, because he was on a panel reviewing his grant application."

"Norval, for as long as I've known you you've had this ... this violent prejudice against him. And his name's not 'Volta.' Where do you dig up all this ... dirt?"

"I tripped over it. He's swept everything under the carpet for years and now there's a huge bulge."

"He's a world-famous neurologist, for G.o.d's sake! An authority authority on memory. And dreams. History will lump him in with two other famous doctors from Montreal-Wilder Penfield and William Osler!" on memory. And dreams. History will lump him in with two other famous doctors from Montreal-Wilder Penfield and William Osler!"

"William Osler? Isn't he the one who thought the best method of diagnosis was one finger in the throat and one in the r.e.c.t.u.m? From what I've heard, that's Volta's preferred method for his memory tests."

Noel closed his eyes. "If that's supposed to be-"

"And if he's such a hot-shot neurologist, why isn't he working for the Montreal Neurological Inst.i.tute, as Penfield did, instead of some fourthrate lab for rejects run by the Health Minister's cross-eyed wife? Who he's been swording for years."50 "I'm not going to discuss these ... these inventions from divorce lawyers and jealous colleagues. It has nothing to do with what we were talking about."

"Which was ..."

Noel paused, took a deep breath, tried to block out Norval's wild accusations. His mind began turning, bleeding colours like a washing machine. There was no truth to any of this, surely. "Childhood trauma," he said finally, in a near-whisper. "And true love."

Norval stared at his friend, whose eyes were averted. "Any last words on either subject, so we can bury them forever?"

"Yes. I predict that one day, in some fabulous future, you'll find closure for what's happened in the past-you'll find the right chemistry with someone and fall madly in love."

"I want you to promise never to use that word again in my hearing."

"Which word? Chemistry? Love? Chemistry? Love?"

"Closure."

"Closure, closure, closure ..."

"And this would be a reversion to ... age five?"

"I'm simply making a prediction, that's all."

"What is this, a career move? You're now a soothsayer?"

Noel remained silent. Norval, he knew, was concealing something. He'd known it from the beginning of their relationship. He had an intuition, a gut feeling, even though he'd never had an accurate one in his life. He paused before trying another tack. "What happened to your father?"

"My father?"

"He went mad, right?"

"He drank himself to death."

"Because your mother betrayed him?"

"He drank to forget."

"And so now, in revenge, you're f.u.c.king over as many women as you can, treating them as numbers. Or rather letters. Demeaning and debasing them for the sake of childhood wounds."

"Don't be a stooge. Things will be less foggy when you catch up on your sleep. Or go to a brothel."

"You have two half-sisters, right? And you made love to them both?"

"Correct."

"Is that the dark secret you're hiding?"

"How many times do I have to tell you there's no darkness, no secrecy? I don't give the episodes a backward thought, haven't a scintilla of remorse. Nor do they."

"Does your love for one of them, or for your first true love, prevent you from committing yourself to another?"

Norval broke into laughter. "Are you auditioning? Is this stand-up?"

"Then why don't you commit to anyone?"

"It's not something I want on my resume."

"What about that Spanish woman we ran into the other day? From Barcelona. She said she was an old flame of yours."

"A spark, a mere cinder."

"How about ... Kayleigh? The one you lost to that performance artist, Scott Free."

"I didn't lose her so much as wipe her off my shoe."

"OK, what about that beautiful French-Canadian? Who left for Belgium. Didn't that break your heart?"

"Which beautiful French-Canadian? They grow like weeds in this town."

"The one you picked up at ExCentris. Chantal."

"Chantal? The journalist? You'd need a fork-lift to pick her up."

"Not that Chantal. The other one, the dancer."

"She was a C C. Nothing more. Taken on the sperm of the moment."

"But she was ... beautiful beautiful."

"Show me a beautiful woman, says the Hindu proverb, and I'll show you a man who's tired of f.u.c.king her."

"What about Lise, the acrobat with Cirque du Soleil?"

"She's not an acrobat, as it turns out. At least not for the circus. She's a professional fluffer."

"A fluffer fluffer? What the h.e.l.l's that?"

"Her job is to keep p.o.r.n stars aroused between scenes."

"Right ... But didn't you say she was an ex?"

"More like a why. She was a fling, an amourette. She was three months gone at our first pa.s.sade."

Noel shook his head. He couldn't imagine imagine what it would be like to have women like this in his gravitational field. To be in Norval's position, just for one day. Sometimes he thought he'd do almost anything to trade places: light a fire in an orphanage, push the Pope off a cliff ... But the feeling would pa.s.s. Because he was looking for something more romantic, longer-lived, something found in fairy and technicolor tales. Does this sort of thing exist in the real world? It would certainly never exist for him. With the curse of his memory, and now his mother's memory, it was pointless to pursue love or marriage. These things were about as possible as making a wedding ring out of mercury, or honeymooning in Atlantis. He stared at Norval, in simmering silence. "How exactly did we become friends, Nor? It seems that in every single way we-" what it would be like to have women like this in his gravitational field. To be in Norval's position, just for one day. Sometimes he thought he'd do almost anything to trade places: light a fire in an orphanage, push the Pope off a cliff ... But the feeling would pa.s.s. Because he was looking for something more romantic, longer-lived, something found in fairy and technicolor tales. Does this sort of thing exist in the real world? It would certainly never exist for him. With the curse of his memory, and now his mother's memory, it was pointless to pursue love or marriage. These things were about as possible as making a wedding ring out of mercury, or honeymooning in Atlantis. He stared at Norval, in simmering silence. "How exactly did we become friends, Nor? It seems that in every single way we-"

"As soon as you told me your name. You had Byron's adopted first name, and Bonaparte's initials. And mine."

The flip answer, despite Noel's resistance, pulled him headlong into the past, into his childhood lab with its laminated Periodic Table. Memory particles fell on him like snow.

Norval recognised his friend's dead-eyed stare. "What are you seeing, Noel? Noel?"

"Just ... memory flakes, nothing important."

"Tell me."

"Not this time, Norval, I don't want to play, I'm not in the mood."

"Come on, lighten up for Christ's sake."

"No. I don't feel like it."

"One more time. Play the b.l.o.o.d.y game."

Noel sighed. All right, for the last time. "I was thinking of Nb. Niobium. Group Vb of the Periodic Table."

"Physical appearance?"

Noel closed his eyes. "Like steel, except it's soft and ductile. When polished, it looks like platinum."

"Rare?"

The servant entered, carrying a large mahogany chest of chemicals, with a coil of platinum and two lead clamps ... Noel opened his eyes, bleaching lurid images from Noel opened his eyes, bleaching lurid images from Dorian Gray Dorian Gray. "No, it's more plentiful than lead."

"Princ.i.p.al uses?"