"Not for a while."
Hommel followed Banner's gaze toward the massive new addition. Its walls were pitted and pockmarked all over. There was scarcely a sliver of glass left in a window from one end of it to the other. The ramp was littered with knots of men, their eyes streaming, blindly hammering at each other with gun butts, breaking apart to reel over the edge of the ramp, and fall flat in the dirt. A multitude of struggling figures could be vaguely seen through the grayish haze that drifted out the entrance of the loading dock.
Hommel stared. "
Who are they fighting
?"
"Who do you think? They're drugged. That addition splits the ground here into two parts, with a gate on either side. They came in through both gates, ended up on both sides of the addition, went into a rage when I spoke through the loud-speakers that are under the roof on both sides of the addition, and fired at the building from opposite sides. Some of the shots sprayed through that cloud of tear gas in the loading tunnel, they charged in, couldn't see who they were fighting—"
"They're fighting
each other
?"
Banner nodded with satisfaction. "At their own cost, they're making a nice big mess that can't be ignored." He glanced around. "Look there."
Way out by the far end of the fence, wary reporters and cameramen could be seen coming forward very cautiously.
Banner took one last satisfied look at the struggling, retching, helpless tangle, and opened the door. "Once word of this mess reaches the majority of people who use only a mild overdose of the drug, they'll drop it like a—"
Peabody, on the way out, all but knocked them down in his haste.
Somewhere, there was the blast of whistle. Hommel glanced around, to see heavily-armed troops well spread out, coming across the open ground to the south.
With a sensation of relief, Hommel knew the mess
was
coming to a close. He remembered Banner's remark that he had barely gotten the drug barred from the armed forces. By that narrow margin, they should be able to get through the final convulsions. Then the thing would be over. Hommel promised himself that if ever again some wonderful new drug should appear—
Vaguely, he became conscious that Peabody was earnestly talking to Banner. Peabody had been trying to tell Hommel something earlier. Hommel, thoroughly skeptical of the unpromising sidetrack Peabody had insisted on following, now listened curiously.
". . . And
then
tried the methyl ether, instead," said Peabody, happily holding up a little, pale-pink pill. "I was hoping to get the antidote, but Dr. Hommel was right. It isn't that. But there is a mental effect. This acts to
stimulate visual memory
."
Viola Manning shut her eyes.
Hommel gripped the doorframe.
"Hm-m-m," said Banner, eyeing the pill.
Peabody said, "I tried it first on rats learning a maze. The effect was unmistakable. I tried it on myself, and I could see almost any page of my college organic text, just as if I were holding it in front of me. The effect lasted almost four hours. Sir, it could be tremendously useful. Students, engineers, doctors—"
Earnestly, Hommel stepped forward to protest—and then paused.
He always
had
wanted a good visual memory.
Banner was saying thoughtfully, "Not quite as big a market as . . . er . . . some we've had, but still—"
The three men huddled around the little pale-pink pill, looking at it as Eve may have looked at the apple.
There was a slight commotion, and they glanced around.
Viola had passed out cold.
Peabody went for water.
"Women," said Hommel, "are illogical."
"True," said Banner, "but why so, particularly?"
"Well, she came through all that trouble. She didn't faint
then
."
Banner nodded. "I see your point."
They glanced back at the new pill.
"She only faints
now
, when there's nothing to be afraid of."
Morton Hommel, Ph.D., Director of the Banner Value Drug and Vitamin Laboratories, Inc., beamed proudly as old Sam Banner, the company's founder and president, sat back and squinted at the little bottle of dark-purple pills.
"They
what?
" said Banner.
"Eliminate the allergic response."
"You mean, they
cure
hay fever?"
"They do. And not only hay fever, but the entire spectrum of—"
"Hold on a minute. They
do
cure hay fever?"
Hommel got control of his enthusiasm.
"They alleviate the
distress
. They . . . ah—"
"Stop the sneezing?"
"Yes—and the other symptoms."
"How about the side effects?"
"Well . . . there we have a—" Hommel hesitated. "There seems to be only one side effect."
"What's that?"
"Well, it's . . . nothing uncomfortable. No sensation of tightness in the head, or sleepiness, or anything that can be classified as
distressing
in any way. Quite the contrary."
Banner set the pills on his desk.
Hommel struggled on. "It's . . . ah—Well, it's unusual, and yet, it s highly bene—That is, it's a
good
side effect."
"What is it?"
"There's an extremely pleasant sensation of . . . well . . . friendliness and fellow-feeling. Possibly, to some extent, this is a reaction from the distress experienced by the allergic individual—"
"If you've got hay fever and you take these pills, the pills
make you feel friendly
?"
Hommel hesitated. "Yes."
"Friendly toward
what
?"
"Well—There's a pleasant slightly euphoric—"
"Never mind the gold paper and fancy ribbon, Mort. You feel friendly. Is that right?"
"Yes. It's a . . . very pleasant sensation of fellow-feeling."
"Do you see things?"
Hommel blinked. "What—"
"Does the lamp post grow big violet eyes? Do you get swept off on a wonderful voyage of discovery, and learn the inner secrets of the universe, which evaporate after you get back?"
"No. It's definitely not hallucinogenic."
"You just feel
friendly
?"
"Yes."
"Friendly towards
what
?"
"Well . . . it's hard to define. It's a sense of fellow-feeling. By no stretch of the imagination could it be considered a
harmful
side effect."
"You think it's a
good
side effect?"
"Frankly, yes."
"Then let's nail down what it does."
"I don't know how better to describe it than to say it's a sensation of
warm fellow-feeling and friendliness
."
"You've taken the pills, yourself?"
"Yes. And they relieved my hay fever completely. I'm sure if you'd care to try the—"
Banner said dryly, "I don't have hay fever. Now, since you've tried it yourself—"
"And we've thoroughly tested it. My report—"
"Your report read like a banquet with all the delicacies—cooked in the cans. Kind of hard to digest."
Hommel opened his mouth and shut it. "I don't know how else to express it. You feel
friendly
. We
need
more friendliness in the world."
"Suppose you drive somewhere, and take this pill so you won't have hay fever?"
"Your reactions to driving situations are perfectly normal. There's no falling off in reaction time, no sleepiness, no feeling of unreality. You do feel more friendly toward other drivers. You're more likely to be accommodating, and less likely, for instance, to try to beat them at the light. We find the drug makes the user, indirectly, a more careful driver. This isn't its purpose, of course; but I don't see how it could be considered a
harmful
side effect."
"This feeling of friendliness—Do you feel friendly toward your car, for instance? Or just toward other people?"
"Possibly it's correct to say that a man is incidentally more
careful
of his car. I suppose that might be interpreted as friendliness. But the inner sensation is a sense of
fellow-feeling
, for other human beings."
Banner sat back and scowled at the bottle of small dark-purple pills.
"If it were entirely up to me, Mort, these pills would go straight down the nearest drain. Unfortunately—"
Hommel was astonished. "Why should we try to suppress this?"
"The question is academic, because we can't. But bear in mind, we get paid for killing germs and easing pain. Uplifting human nature is not our line of work."
"But—"
"If we're going to stay in business, we can't ignore a money maker like this. But we're going to have to find out if we can get hay fever relief
without
incidentally making the customer feel friendly."
"But why eliminate a
good
side effect?"
"The customer isn't asking for it. The ideal drug does exactly what the customer buys it to do,
and nothing else
. He buys drugs to relieve an ache or kill a germ, not to have his head feel tight, to get sleepy, or to have green fur grow on his tongue."
"This is different."
"And, since we probably can't get rid of this side effect, we'll start work on an antidote."
Hommel felt staggered. "
Antidote?
"
"Right, Mort. An antidote. Just in case."
Despite Hommel's objections, Banner insisted. Being the boss, Banner got his way. The problem itself proved as interesting as the original problem, so that Hommel soon forgot his objections.
Meanwhile, the new drug appeared on the market, and Hommel exasperatedly read the label:
Nullergin-20
For relief of Allergy Symptoms. Take one to three tablets per day as required, to relieve symptoms of hay fever, or allergic response to dust, cat hair, egg white, or other causative agent. Nulllergin-200 is a new formulation, designed to overcome symptoms of allergic response to a wide range of substances. Like all drugs, it should be used in moderation.
CAUTION
: In some persons, Nullergin-200 has been found to apparently induce a sense of friendliness; discontinue use where this side effect is undesirable.
Where
, Hommel asked himself,
would a sense of friendliness be "undesirable"
? Then he shrugged. The
main
thing was, this blessing for allergy sufferers was on the market.
The sales of Nullergin-200, with a minimum of advertising, picked up steadily. By hay-fever season, the cash registers were ringing all over the country. It was then that Banner called Hommel into his office.
"How's that antidote coming?"
"It's quite a complex problem. But we're making measurable progress."
"Measurable progress? Well, put all the man power on it you need, because we're getting into a measurable mess."
Hommel looked blank. "What do you mean?"
Banner had several newspapers on his desk, and tossed one over. "Look at the headlines."
Hommel read:
ULTERIOR STRIKE SETTLED
Management Yields After Long Struggle
Banner said, "Take a look at that picture."
Hommel frowned at a photograph of two men, the first grinning in triumph, the second smiling benevolently, with his arm around the other's shoulder. Behind them stood several rows of men, some smiling, some scowling, a few with handkerchiefs at their faces.
Hommel said blankly. "I see it. But—"
"Look at the part of the story that's circled."
Hommel spotted several paragraphs marked in heavy pencil:
Mr. Scharg explained that he wished the union well, and hoped the company would be able to offer a similar raise every year.
Asked for his comment, Mr. Kraggenpaugh, the union representative, expressed contentment with the contract "for the time being. If the management had accepted this offer earlier, it would have saved everyone trouble. This proves they could have done it all along."
Not available for comment was Maurice De Pugh, executive vice president, who earlier argued that accepting the union's demand would put the company out of business.
Mr. Scharg's sudden reversal took everyone by surprise. The question now raised is how Ulterior, in light of the latest drop in sales, can afford a pay raise it rejected last year, when it was making a profit.
Mr. Scharg's report to the upcoming stockholders' meeting is eagerly awaited.
Hommel frowned, and looked back at the photograph. The man smiling in friendship was identified as Mr. Scharg. The man grinning in triumph was Mr. Kraggenpaugh.
He studied the photograph more closely, and noticed that, of the men who had handkerchiefs raised, two apparently were blowing their noses, and one had his eyes shut, as if sneezing violently.
Banner said, "Kind of an unusual thing, Mort."
"It certainly is." Studying the photograph, Hommel could see a bulge in the pocket of Scharg's suit coat. It could be a pair of gloves. But who would carry gloves in hot weather? It could be a handkerchief. But Scharg did not look as if pollen were bothering
him
.
Or it
could
be a pill bottle.
Banner said, "Mort, this stuff doesn't put a man into a stupor, does it?"
"No."
"What happens if he takes an overdose?"
"Well, the more he takes, the greater the . . . the effect."
"The more pills he takes, the friendlier he gets?"
Unwillingly, Hommel said, "Yes."
Banner handed across another paper.
Hommel was confronted by large headlines:
KIDNAP VICTIM SAFE!
Police Recover Youth
In High-Speed Chase
Father Hugs Kidnapper
A photograph showed a well-dressed man pumping the hand of a tough-looking individual handcuffed to an astonished policeman. Hommel glanced at the text:
". . . But this is the man who kidnapped your son!"
"I don't care," the boy's father told the police officer. "I just feel friendly toward
everyone
."
Hommel looked up. "We don't
know
he was using our product."