Desperate Games (14 page)

The day foreseen by Mrs Betty Han, when super-wrestling was no longer enough to satisfy the world’s passionate avidity, came very soon. And it quickly became obvious that it would not be long before everyone became bored.

One morning Fawell went to the psychologist’s home to have a confidential talk with her. What he had to tell her was still a secret and he did not want it spread around. No sooner had he entered her home than he put before her the table of suicides, the real one, which he was provided with personally by a special department every day. Betty hardly glanced at it and shrugged her shoulders.

‘I know the situation,’ she said. ‘Don’t you think I’ve got my own statistics? And it all makes sense. The last games were disappointing. Even if I didn’t have accurate equipment at every session to show me to the nearest decibel the intensity of the cheers, I could tell by the attitude of the spectators.’

‘Melancholy?’ Fawell asked gloomily.

‘Not openly, but there’s certainly the threat of it.’

In fact the crowd was not yet showing this dreaded gloominess openly at all. There was still some applause, and sometimes some yells, when the wrestlers excelled themselves or when some weakling managed to overcome an unpleasant brute, rather as Miss Lovely had done. But for an observer with
sharpened senses like the psychologist, these cheers did not have the same resonance. The fire of enthusiasm was missing. The players themselves noticed this deficiency and the show suffered because of it. Like the actor who starts to suspect that the cheering is the result of ordinary politeness and who thus starts to go to pieces somewhat, the wrestler could no longer, or only in exceptional circumstances, manage to raise himself to the summit of his art. Previously unimaginable behaviour had even been observed in one of these athletes: discouraged and stretched out on the ground, yet without any serious wound, he obstinately refused to get up and waited for the pistol shot in the nape of the neck by the referee, without lifting a finger to save his own life. And this was simply because the public’s attitude had disappointed him.

It was these disturbing symptoms and the table of suicides that Fawell laid out before Betty, representing the gravity of the situation in the language of geometry. After a long even sequence, there was now a tendency to curve upwards. It was still scarcely perceptible, just a slight tendency, but Yranne, who studied it every day at the President’s request, could predict its future rate: they were entering an ascendant phase again. There was no possible doubt about it for a specialist in analytic geometry.

‘It’s alarming,’ said Fawell.

‘I know.’

‘We
must
do something.’

‘Yes, of course we must. Don’t you think that I’m convinced of that too? I’ve got hundreds of specialists working on the problem in my laboratories. Believe me, I don’t give them a moment’s respite. And they themselves are obsessed with the importance and urgency of the problem. Night and day they are racking their brains to invent an enthralling game, a thrilling one, a game that is a fitting successor to super-wrestling, which is inadequate nowadays and will soon be rejected.’

‘Well?’

‘Well?’ she shouted, impatient to the point of fury, ‘well, they still haven’t found anything satisfactory. It’ll happen, I’m sure of it, but when?’

‘We need it in a matter of days, not to say hours,’ Fawell said, becoming more and more solemn… Perhaps we could try your idea of charges on horseback?’

She had told him before of the projects which she kept in her files just in case they were needed.

‘We could,’ she admitted without conviction.

Each team consisted of fifty horsemen (the psychologists estimated that interest in the show would increase according to the number of players), twenty-five men and twenty-five women, a proportion which had proved to be suitable before. Armed with lances they charged at top speed to do battle with each other. After the collision the survivors were to occupy the space relinquished by their opponents, wait for a new signal, and then start again, and continue thus until one of the teams was destroyed.

It required a large number of participants and there was a risk of it often ending in a general massacre. It was necessary to prepare a considerable reserve of players in advance. In spite of this Betty had still predicted that they would find more volunteers of both sexes than they required. But to ensure that the competition ran smoothly, rigorous preliminary training in the handling of lances and in the art of riding was necessary. They also needed a lot of horses, which was a problem, because these animals had become rare in a scientifically run society.

The government spared nothing, it was prepared to sacrifice everything to ward off the phantom of melancholy whose menacing shadow was starting to hover over the world again. It had training stadiums built and created stud farms where they managed to breed a race of horses particularly well suited to the activities intended for them. It was also necessary to develop special performance grounds, for a simple arena was clearly
too restricted a setting. To increase the difficulty and stimulate interest, it was decided that the jousts would take place on open ground with a varied landscape, comprising obstacles such as streams and forests, and that the clash should not occur until after a charge of about several hundred metres. After searching around they found several suitable locations. It was also necessary to lay out some areas for the spectators without destroying the natural advantages of the site. So they ended up building two rows of high parallel terraces between which the clash would take place.

All this was carried out and carried out well, and the first competition was a creditable success. The horse-riders met at a pre-arranged place, under the gaze of an inquisitive public. The clash was quite disturbing: it took place in serried rows and caused dreadful carnage to men, women and horses. The players were in such a frenzy that there were only three or four horse-riders left on either side after the fourth round. The required outcome occurred after the sixth round: one team was destroyed, but there were only two survivors on the winning team.

The spectators were generous with their cheers for these new heroes and the recording equipment displayed an acceptable intensity of yelling. Fawell was hopeful for a moment when he noticed that the table of suicides was tending to show a downward curve again, but Mrs Betty Han shook her head with a sceptical look. She had a premonition and her experience as a psychologist suggested to her that these results would be short-lived.

She was right. Other competitions of this kind organised at the same time were only moderately successful and it very quickly became obvious that the enthusiasm for horse charges was only a flash in the pan. Inventing other games was a matter of urgency. So several other games kept in reserve were tried. Conflicts between gladiators were a partial failure and barely lasted a fortnight. As for rugby with spiked helmets, it was a
complete flop and took place in gloomy silence, only arousing a few modest cheers among those under fourteen years old. The phantom of melancholy refused to let itself be warded off by such entertainments and its foul shadow was darkening the skies again.

For about a month, the table of suicides had been showing an upward curve again. Mrs Betty Han had been really harassing her experts, and she herself was hounded many times by Fawell, who was desper ate. No one could devise a game thrilling enough to curb the deadly epidemic.

The vice-president was in a gloomy mood when she went into the psychological research laboratories that morning to examine a new project which the head of the department had brought to her attention. At her request, Yranne accompanied her. She valued his judgement. Wasn’t he the originator of the game that had worked wonders in its time? What is more, he had not lost interest in the work of her department and on the contrary devoted somewhat more of his own leisure time than before to researching solutions to the problems of the moment. She often sought his help.

‘Couldn’t you dream up an idea like super-wrestling?’

But he also seemed to have become mentally exhausted and could not think of anything which would be satisfactory.

They both sat down at a desk which the head of the laboratory had let them use, placing a dossier in front of them about a new invention. They examined it carefully before discussing it.

The project was quite original but before even going into the details, Betty had the feeling that it could provide no more than a weak palliative. It consisted of an underwater fight between frogmen and frogwomen, armed with guns similar to those used
in the past for submarine fishing, but with a greater range and efficiency, and with knives which, in hand-to-hand combat, could serve equally well to stab a hole in someone’s chest as to cut the oxygen supply tubes. The players would swim around in a giant aquarium with transparent sides and viewing terraces installed around it.

‘What do you think?’ Betty asked her companion.

He pulled a face and did not reply at once. Around them the researchers were busy going about their work in silence. There were about fifty in this laboratory, all of them young, many of them still pursuing their studies or having recently finished them. The psychologist still had hopes that a miraculous remedy could be discovered through the imagination of the young people. Each of them had at their disposal a work table and an easel for drawing on, which enabled them to study and to perfect the visual aspects of this or that plan. Sometimes when a provisional plan proved to be worth it, they could call upon professionals to create a coloured image of their idea.

In a studio attached to the laboratory it was possible to conduct experiments on the effects produced by volunteer actors on spectators chosen at random. In addition to these practical arrangements there were cameras and projection equipment, making it possible to analyse all aspects of the game in detail, and to eliminate anything that seemed tedious and keep only those elements which were of greater interest.

These budding scholars were all given enormous freedom. They worked in any way they wished and were only judged by their results. They all had different methods. Some liked to work in groups, discussing their ideas with their colleagues and collaborating with them. Others preferred to pursue their research alone and did not present their project until it was perfected.

Faced with the less than enthusiastic silence of her colleague, Betty spoke to the head of the laboratory, who was standing on the other side of the desk.

‘What do you think of it yourself, Rousseau?’

It was the young student who had got himself noticed by his psychology teachers. Betty had promoted him to head of the laboratory, hoping that this distinction would stimulate his inventive mind. It seemed that she was mistaken on this point. In fact the opposite had happened: the young man’s critical mind had developed, to the detriment of his creative genius.

‘I found, Madame, that it had some interesting aspects,’ he replied. ‘Otherwise I would not have allowed myself to present it to you.’

The lack of conviction in the tone of his voice seemed to give the lie to the sense of his words.

‘Explain what you mean,’ she said, impatiently. ‘I feel that you are not being open. Don’t hesitate to express any criticisms. I’m here to listen to them.’

‘Well, Madame –’

‘I have one criticism,’ Yranne interrupted suddenly. ‘It’s a detail which seems to have escaped the inventors and you yourself, Rousseau… There’s too much blood, Betty, too much blood.’

‘Too much blood!’

Mrs Betty Han had an angry expression and could not refrain from making a gesture revealing her exasperation.

‘Too much blood, Yranne! I thought that this drawback which is common to all our games had been once and for all kept within reasonable bounds. Are you going to join the camp of those who accuse us of being executioners, although we are in fact saving thousands of lives? You know that a little blood is an indispensable element in stirring up passion. I was not expecting such a comment from you, Yranne,’ she continued, looking thoroughly aggrieved.

‘Calm down, Betty. You haven’t understood what I mean in the least.’

‘I think that I can explain what you meant by it, sir,’ the young man interrupted boldly, ‘and at the same time I can vindicate
myself for having omitted this drawback. However I mentioned it in this note attached to the dossier which you have not yet had time to read.’

‘Then let’s read it.’

‘“One of the likely drawbacks of this type of competition,”’ Rousseau read, ‘“is that there is a risk of the water becoming very clouded after several chests have been run through, to the extent that spectators may be prevented from seeing the end of the show.”’

‘Well done!’ exclaimed Yranne. ‘That’s exactly what I thought.’

‘I confess that this point escaped me,’ Betty murmured.

‘It seems to have escaped the inventors of the project as well,’ said Rousseau, in a slightly disdainful way.

Mrs Betty Han looked at them both in the same inquisitive way, full of a sort of admiration for them, a feeling which was quite rare for her.

‘You two think of everything.’

The young man smiled modestly.

‘It is however possible, as I have also mentioned, that a chemical procedure could be found to eliminate this drawback. We would have to study the possibility.’

‘Fine. The first criticism is: too much blood. I agree,’ said Betty. ‘Are there any others?’

‘I see at least one more and I think it’s much more important,’ the young man said, adopting a more enigmatic tone.

‘And that is?’

‘If you will allow me, Madame, first I would like to show you a film of the trial we ran. The failing will become obvious to you.’

‘You’ve conducted a trial of it?’

‘In an aquarium of considerable size, which I had built outdoors. But I did not pursue the experiment through to its ultimate conclusion, to save on the use of personnel. The projectiles are harmless, simple darts made out of rubber. For the sake of greater realism however, a quantity of blood corresponding to that from
the faked wounds flows out of a waterproof pocket whenever there’s a blow. In this way you can observe the water gradually becoming cloudy. But I think that it is above all the serious failing which I alluded to before which will shock you.’

‘Let’s see it. Nothing is better than an experiment.’

She moved towards the projection room. But before entering it, she turned towards Rousseau, whose attitude seemed rather enigmatic.

‘Rousseau,’ she said, ‘you are hiding something from me. You present me with a project that certainly seems possible, but which, according to you, includes at least one serious failing. I want you to tell me frankly. Do you think it is viable, yes or no?’

‘No,’ the young man replied without hesitation.

‘So I thought. However, for this project which you have rejected a priori, you have considered it worth conducting a complete trial, and employing personnel, without however letting them be killed.’

‘I did not let it happen because it was of no use to my experiment,’ the young man interrupted apologetically.

‘I’m not reproaching you… Yet, for this demonstration, as you say, you have had a giant aquarium constructed and made a film of it. Please note that I don’t begrudge you the expense either. I have always told you and I repeat that I shall obtain all the funds necessary for your experiments, but on the condition that these experiments are productive. Well, in this case…’

‘Madame, in all honesty,’ the young man said in an earnest tone, ‘I considered this experiment to be very useful, and, despite its fundamental drawback, I am convinced that it will prove to be productive.’

Realising that nothing more would be forthcoming on the matter for the moment, she shrugged her shoulders and went into the projection room.