The Complete Short Stories: The 1960s. Brian Aldiss
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still got them; they still pile up; they don’t bother me. I just don’t let the worries worry me, thanks to polyannamine.’
‘Can you control your obvious ebullience enough to tell us roughly how the stuff works?’
‘Tell you roughly? Nay sire, as I hope for an OBE, I will tell you gently. My prescription may be applied orally or intravenously or by inhalation; 10 c.c. only needed. Infallible! Guaranteed to cheer up even a TV comedian. No harmful side effects. No dimming of intelligence – I always looked this stupid, ha ha!’
‘I have a question to put you, Mr Miller,’ said Watts-Clinton, seeming to offer it transfixed on one stabbing finger. ‘You make large claims for this – er, medicament. Personally, I should be grateful if you would explain how it differs in any appreciable way from the tranquillisers and euphorics which have been on the market for some years.’
Miller squeezed his cheeks and mouth into a lemon face that aped the Foreign Secretary’s features with considerable success.
‘I have an answer to put to you, Mr Clotts-Winton – er, Witts-Clunt –, er, Watts-Clinton, that I trust will answer your question. Polyannamine is permanent! It does not act directly on the endocrines. It goes straight to the kidney and there establishes a respective area which begins immediately to secrete its own supply of polyannamine. From then on, the process is irreversible. It becomes part of the natural function of the kidney. Without impairing its other functions to any noticeable extent, the kidney will continue to secrete polyannamine until death does it part, and that polyannamine does its part in the endocrines from then on without stopping. In other words, one injection only of the synthetic solution is needed – for life.’
‘I see,’ said Watts-Clinton. Then his face burst into a slow smile. ‘By God, Herbert, if this is true. …’
‘Just what I was thinking …’ said the PM. ‘We’ve got to face the House with this second reading of the Capital Punishment Bill in the morning. If only. …’
Bowing low, Miller produced a small object from a waist-coat pocket. It looked like an anemone bulb, a cushion with a small spike on it. It was made of glass and contained a clear liquid.
‘If I catch your meaning, sir, you need a few dozen of these. If you sit on this, you get an injection of polyannamine – no trouble.’
The PM looked at Watts-Clinton. He looked at Quadroon. He looked at the pencil portrait of Christie. Then he looked back at Miller.
‘It’s worth a knighthood,’ he breathed.
Quadroon moved restlessly.
‘Two knighthoods,’ he corrected.
‘Two knighthoods,’ the PM agreed.
They all walked back together to the car. A bevy of convicts in evening dress were writhing to the voice of Johnny Earthquake.
In the big wide world I’m all alone,
They gone and left me on my own,
I’m shedding tears on tears to be
A Teenage Divorcee.
The PM looked up at the slow-moving grey smog of London overhead.
‘Beautiful evening,’ he said. ‘Beautiful evening. The prospect is distinctly rosy.’
Next day, Lady Elizabeth – wearing a tailored Italian costume that fitted her with mathematical exactitude – stood in her cosy room in Downing Street looking down pensively at the TV announcer.
The announcer, whose eyes were of an irreproachable blue, looked pensively back at Lady Elizabeth and said, ‘… case of horse-doping at Newmarket this month. Scotland Yard has been called in. This morning, the so-called M1 Massacre Man, Gulliver McNoose, was executed at Pentonville Prison. Under the new dispensation, his girl friend was allowed to be with him in the condemned cell; she held his hand till the last, singing “Rock of Ages Rock”, the new religious pop song which was McNoose’s favourite tune. We hope to have pictures on our later bulletin. Meanwhile, capital punishment was the subject of debate in the House of Commons this morning.’
A view of Parliament came on to the screen as the announcer’s head dissolved; this did not prevent his continuing, ‘The Government were seeking to make unofficial strikers liable to the death penalty, and it was expected that they would meet lively opposition. Mr Gaskin, however, who was to have spoken against the motion, appeared to be in exceptionally genial mood, says our Westminster correspondent, admitting that unofficial strikes were a bit of a nuisance; he added that if the country was to get ahead it had better lose a few. The laughter, particularly on Mr Gaskin’s side of the house, lasted for many minutes, after which the government measure was carried through without further discussion. Her Majesty the Queen, who is on a goodwill visit to the Isle of Man –’
Lady Elizabeth switched the set off. Her face did not relax into a smile.
‘You don’t look very pleased,’ her sister Nancy, the Honourable Mrs Lyon-Bowater, said, pouting prettily. ‘Sounds jolly good to me. Of course, I know I’m only an old silly.’
‘Of course,’ Lady Elizabeth agreed. She did not enjoy her pretty younger sister’s visits. Since a certain nursery-days quarrel over a palomino pony, the sisters had never entirely seen eye to eye. ‘The passing of this Bill is a triumph for Herbert – a vindication of all he has been working for. Unfortunately, it must be counted as a minor triumph. Perhaps you don’t realise it, Nancy but we stand on the brink of a third world war.’
‘Oh yes, isn’t it terrible? Still, we have for years, haven’t we? It’s all Towin ever talks about – that and his mouldy old shares.’
Lady Elizabeth sat down in the most graceful way on the very edge of her chaise-longue and said, ‘Nancy dear, this time it is rather different. There was a serious border incident in Berlin in the early hours of this morning.’
‘Politics is your business, darling, not mine; I prefer Chihuahuas.’
‘This is everyone’s business, darling. You will remember the East Germans built a wall round their sector four or five years ago – or perhaps you won’t. Then in the American sector a huge tower was built, the New Brandenburg tower. We claimed it was for a new UN office; the East Germans claimed it was to spy into their territory. In retaliation they built huge screens behind their wall, so that nobody could see into their sector.’
‘As though anyone would want to see into their sector,’ said Nancy, lighting a cigarette with the elaborate ritual gesture of a waiter about to scorch a crêpe suzette in an expense account restaurant.
‘Be that as it may, Nancy, the screens were built. The Western Powers agreed in finding this an aggressive gesture; accordingly, they prepared a warning.’
‘Oh yes, if they do it, it’s a threat: if we do it, it’s a warning. I do know that much about politics.’
‘Well, our warning took the form of a big statue, two hundred and five feet high and thus the highest in the world –’
‘Oh, you mean Buster!’
‘Its official name is the Statue of Freedom. It is so large that even the poor East Germans can see it, especially as its eyes light up at night.’
‘It’s lovely, Elizabeth. Towin and I saw it when we were over there last year; they had some sort of a crisis on then, as I recall. It looked lovely – much more fun than the dreary old Eiffel Tower, and with this rather absurd crown on its head saying “Coca-Cola”.’
‘Yes. The Western Powers had some trouble among themselves about that. The crisis to which you refer was of course caused by the Russian insistence on regarding Buster – mm, the Statue of Freedom as a provocative act. We should have had a war then but for Herbert’s personal intervention. He flew over to speak to the Russian Premier, Nikita Molochev. Instead of declaring war, the East Germans built a statue themselves.’