Prescription for Chaos (9 page)

"Can you think of some
other
explanation?"

"No." Hommel looked puzzled.

"Neither can I. And here's something else I never heard of before." He handed Hommel a page torn out of a magazine.

Reluctantly, Hommel took it, to see an advertisement showing a cheerful overalled figure holding an electric drill, a section of an article about a high-speed passenger train, a small ad for a suction-plunger to clean out drains, and finally a paragraph circled in heavy pencil:

 
LONELY? NEED FRIENDS?
Our method brings Guaranteed Results. No need to exchange photos. This is not a pen-pal club. This method is New and Proven. You pick
who you want
for a friend
in advance
. Then take our Mystery Substance and
use
it. That's all. Now you have a friend! Can be used on anyone. Sex, age, social class, do not matter. Sound great? It
is
great! Full instructions included. Send $2.25 to Friendly Universe, Box 250, Dept. W3 . . .
 

Hommel looked up dizzily.

Banner pulled open a desk drawer, took out a small stamped package, opened it up, removed a stoppered vial from a cardboard tube, and unfolded a large sheet of paper labeled: "Now—A
Friendship
Essence—Here are your Instructions!"

Hommel swallowed hard, and read "Now, an ancient mystery from the mysterious East, but guaranteed by Modern Science, makes it possible for anyone—
even you!
—to have friends! And it is so easy! . . . Contained in this vial is the Mysterious Miracle Essence compounded from an ancient formula . . . some say the mysterious vital essences of Earth, Air, Fire, and Water are condensed into it by magically enchanted
strictly scientific equipment . . .
but we say only, it
works
, and it's
wonderful
 . . . All that you need to do is buy a simple atomizer at any drugstore, and spray this Mystery Essence around the room before your chosen friend gets there. Or, you go where they are, and squirt it around when they aren't looking . . . The
Mystery Essence
will do the rest. It never fails! . . . There is no law against this. It is perfectly legal, and
you are doing them a favor
 . . . The power of the Mystery Essence
will secretly protect
your chosen friend against
hay fever, cold and poison ivy!
Refills available at $2.25 each from Friendly Universe, Box 250 . . ."

Hommel looked up in stupefaction. "Great, holy, leaping—"

Banner said, "You see, Mort, it
isn't
such a harmless side effect, is it?"

"I never imagined—" He stared at Banner. "Could
you
foresee all this?"

"Not the details. But if you should come in here with a little pill that cured headaches, and had no side effects, and nothing wrong with it, except that if you hit it with a hammer it would blow out ten city blocks . . . well, no one might be able to foresee the
details
, but they could tell
something
would happen when it went on the market."

"Yes, but this was
friendliness
."

"Are you saying, Mort, that friendship isn't a power in the world?"

"No. But—"

"Then, you see, these pills
exert power
. Just as surely as if they were TNT."

Hommel sat back in bafflement. "I see it. But it doesn't seem right."

Banner nodded. "
If
these pills were used right, there'd be no great problem.
Some
people will use them just as they should. But I would bet you, Mort, that right this minute there are others mashing these pills into a fine powder, touching a match to the powder, and then sniffing the smoke to see what happens. If one of these people dives out a tenth-story window because he has turned into a bird, and another starts eating ground glass because he can't be hurt, who do you suppose will get blamed?"

Hommel only nodded his head.

"Right. Keep working on that antidote."

Hommel did as he was told. Fueled by a large proportion of Banner's profits, the "antidote" project forged ahead at a strenuous pace. But Nullergin-200 went faster.

As the hay-fever season ended, the common-cold season took over. It developed that Nullergin-200 eliminated most of the symptoms of an ordinary cold. Sales increased.

Hommel, more and more immersed in his work, paid little attention to the outside world. But it was impossible to ignore it completely.

On his way to work one morning, he nearly smashed into the car in front, which had stopped considerately in a long line of traffic to let a second car back out of an alley. The driver of the second car, in his friendly appreciation, walked back to thank his benefactor. As Hommel stared in disbelief, this first driver got out to shake hands, and the two beamed upon one another until some unregenerate ten cars back let go a long blast on his horn.

Farther on, two small children were playing in the middle of the street, and all the traffic laboriously detoured around their cardboard tent. A large oil truck, in front of Hommel, had to back and fill to get around, and finally came to a stop. The driver, a large, tough-looking man in a worn leather jacket, walked over to the two children, bent down, and rumpled their hair. He smiled at Hommel in pure friendship.

"You live for your kids. Right, Jack?"

Hommel stared at the truck driver's massive shoulders, and snarled, "
Right
."

When Hommel got to the plant, he was an hour late. He wasn't in a very friendly mood himself.

Banner at once called him to his office.

"How's that antidote coming?"

"Our program would go a good deal faster if we had less socializing and more work."

"Our own people are taking the drug, eh?"

Hommel nodded. "They say it cuts down the symptoms of the common cold. That may be true, but—"

There was a brief tap at the door, and Hommel glanced around. The door opened, and Banner's secretary looked in, to gush, "Oh, Mr. Banner, I just
had
to come in for a minute, to say how much I
do
enjoy working for you."

Banner looked at her coolly. "I appreciate that, Miss Hemple, but—"

"I just
love
every minute here. And I think you're just the
kindest
employer. There, I
had
to say it. Thank you
so
much, Mr. Banner, for everything."

The door shut, and Banner stared at it.

"Is that what you mean, Mort?"

"That's how it starts. It gets worse when everyone tells everyone else how he enjoys having him for a co-worker. You take half-a-dozen people, and the permuta—"

"The
what
?"

Hommel paused. "There are thirty different ways they can congratulate one another on being good co-workers. At
least
thirty different ways."

Banner said soberly, "I've heard of the world ending by disasters. It never occurred to me it might end in a handshake."

Hommel started to reply, but was interrupted again, this time by a woman's scream echoing down the hall outside.

Banner and Hommel were on their feet at once. Banner seized a heavy cane he used for occasional bouts of rheumatism, and they went through the outer office, and reached the hall door just as there was a louder scream.

Hommel threw the door open, to see Viola Manning, one of his assistants, rush past.

Right behind her came Peabody, Hommel's promising young research chemist. Peabody's eyes were lit up in a kind of greenish murky light. Both his hands were stretched out after Viola Manning.

Hommel shouted, "What
is
this?
Stop!
"

Peabody didn't stop.

Banner shot out his heavy cane, entangling Peabody's legs.

Peabody's arms flailed, he hurtled forward off balance, and hit the floor with a crash.

Banner recovered his cane, and watched Peabody alertly.

Peabody groaned, sat up, and felt cautiously of his nose and face. He staggered to his feet.

Hommel eyed him coldly. "And just what the devil were
you
doing?"

"I . . . ah—"

From somewhere came a sound of sobbing, and a reassuring feminine voice giving words of comfort.

Peabody glanced around nervously. "Did I—"

Hommel said angrily,
What were you doing
?"

"I . . . I was dissolving some powdered Nullergin-200 in ethyl alcohol, and I . . . it occurred to me to wonder what the physiological effect—"

"You
drank
it?"

Peabody stared at his toes. "Yes."

Banner said, "How much?"

"Just a little . . . a few milliliters . . . hardly any—"

Hommel said, "You were dissolving it in pure ethyl alcohol?"

"Yes, but I diluted it. I poured in some water, shook in a little . . . er . . . sucrose . . . and—"

Banner said, "How many pills did you grind up in this punch?"

"The . . . the dissolved Nullergin-200 couldn't have been the equivalent of a tenth of a pill."

Hommel said grimly, "Then what happened?"

"I . . . ah . . . Viola—She had just come in, and—All of a sudden I saw her in a different light—" His face reddened. He said helplessly, "It was like friendship—only a lot more so."

Hommel said disgustedly, "Next time, stick a little closer to the planned experiment."

"Yes, Dr. Hommel. I will."

"Does Viola realize what happened?"

"I—No."

Banner said, "Did you drink up all of that stuff, or is there some left?"

"There's some left."

"Save it."

Hommel nodded. "And write it down, as accurately as possible, the quantities you used. Then you'd better take a few minutes to decide what you'll say to Viola Manning."

Peabody nodded grimly.

Hommel said, "I'll try to explain to her that it was a . . . er . . . toxic effect. Possibly you can find some better explanation."

When Peabody had gone off, pale and shaken, Banner went back into his office, and Hommel had the job of explaining to Viola Manning.

That evening, when Hommel got back to his apartment, the daily paper told of a town in the mid-west that had found the way to peace and friendship—through putting Nullergin-200 in the water supply.

When he got up the next morning, the news broadcast told of two daring bandits who, late the previous afternoon, had walked into a bank in a friendly town in the mid-west, and cleaned it out. The bank guard explained, "I just felt too friendly to stop them."

What riveted Hommel's attention was the bank president's comment: "The trouble with those boys was just that they haven't been drinking our water. I wonder if there's any way to spray the friendship medicine in the
air
?"

"'Friendship medicine,'" muttered Hommel. Then he headed out into the morning traffic jam. This business of waiting out delays at intersections, while drivers politely waved each other ahead, was getting on his nerves.

Late in the week, Banner called Hommel to his office.

"How's the antidote coming, Mort?"

"Assuming there
is
an antidote, we might find it faster with . . . ah . . . fewer complications in interpersonal relationships."

"How's Viola Manning taking it?"

"She looks around with a start when the door opens."

"How about Peabody?"

"He's drowning himself in work," said Hommel.

"Good." Banner picked up a newspaper. "If you'd just glance over the items circled on the front page, Mort."

Hommel glanced over the front page, to notice to his horror that practically every news item was circled:

 
NO STRIKE, SAYS UNION
Accept Voluntary Pay Cut
RACE WAR ENDS
"We Love Each Other" Say Rival Gang Chiefs
PEACE FORCE ENDS STRIFE
"Friendship Bombs" End Long-Drawn War
Guerrillas Emerge From Jungle Hideout
COMMON COLD LICKED BY RESEARCHERS
Nullergin-200 Gives Double Dose of Blessings
No Sniffles No Snarls
URGE NULLERGIZATED CITY WATER SUPPLY
Ends Colds, Strife With Same Method
PETTIBO STORES HEIRESS FOUND
Eloped With Garbage Collector
Class No Obstacle To True Friendship
IS PEACE PACT REAL?
Soviets Claim Treaty Sprayed With Superdrug
 

Hommel looked up dazedly.

Banner said, "Things are picking up, Mort."

"But is it better, or worse?"

"Take a look at the folded page."

Hommel turned back to a page with the corner folded, to read:

 
INDUSTRIAL OUTPUT DROPPING AGAIN
Productivity Per Man-Hour Hits New Low Again This Month
 

Hommel read the article, certain comments standing out boldly:

 
". . . Blamed on on-the-job socializing and increased hesitancy of supervisory personnel to force the pace . . . 'After all, we're all one happy family,' says the superintendent of the Boswah Corporation's East Steelport plant . . . claimed it is possible to keep production lines moving but only by slowing them further . . . 'There is a much nicer atmosphere around here,' comments one worker, sipping her coffee as the line idles by, 'It used to be hurry-hurry-hurry' . . . Executives agree, 'Our competitors have the same problem. Why would we want to hurt
their
business by stepping up productivity. They're basically very nice people.' . . . Dissenter is the crusty, hard-lining president of Kiersager Corporation, who insists, 'We will fire every one of these pooped-out friendship addicts that turns up for work. This mess of flabby hand-shakers is so much clotted blood in the arteries of commerce.'"
 

Hommel looked up. "Is it like this all over the country?"

"Can you think of anyone who doesn't want to avoid colds?"

"No. Everyone wants to avoid them," Hommel said.

"And how many people are there now who are against taking drugs on principle?"

"Not many."

Banner nodded. "This was bound to come along sooner or later. If people would only use the stuff in moderation, there'd be no problem. But they figure if two pills are good, four pills are twice as good."

Hommel said glumly, "At least it isn't habit-forming."