Hall felt the tension was unbearable. He suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to escape it, to get away from everything.
The TV screen clicked on. His technician appeared and said, "Dr. Hall, we have Dr. Leavitt in the infirmary."
And Hall found himself saying, "I'll be right there."
Chapter 21
***
He knew he was acting strangely. There was no reason to see Leavitt. Leavitt was all right, perfectly fine, in no danger. In going to see him, Hall knew that he was trying to forget the other, more immediate problems. As he entered the infirmary, he felt guilty.
His technician said, "He's sleeping."
"Post-ictal," Hall said. Persons after a seizure usually slept.
"Shall we start Dilantin?"
"No. Wait and see. Perhaps we can hold him on phenobarb."
He began a slow and meticulous examination of Leavitt. His technician watched him and said, "You're tired."
"Yes," said Hall. "It's past my bedtime."
On a normal day, he would now be driving home on the expressway. So would Leavitt: going home to his family in Pacific Palisades. The Santa Monica Expressway.
He saw it vividly for a moment, the long lines of cars creeping slowly forward.
And the signs by the side of the road. Speed limit 65 maximum, 40 minimum. They always seemed like a cruel joke at rush hour.
Maximum and minimum.
Cars that drove slowly were a menace. You had to keep traffic moving at a fairly constant rate, little difference between the fastest and the slowest, and you had to...
He stopped.
"I've been an idiot," he said.
And he turned to the computer.
***
In later weeks, Hall referred to it as his "highway diagnosis. " The principle of it was so simple, so clear and obvious, he was surprised none of them had thought of it before.
He was excited as he punched in instructions for the GROWTH program into the computer; he had to punch in the directions three times; his fingers kept making mistakes.
At last the program was set. On the display screen, he saw what he wanted: growth of Andromeda as a function of pH, of acidity-alkalinity.
The results were quite clear:
[GRAPHIC: colony growth versus pH, bell shaped curve centered at pH 7.41 and dying at 7.39/7.43]
The Andromeda Strain grew within a narrow range. If the medium for growth was too acid, the organism would not multiply. If it was too basic, it would not multiply. Only within the range of pH 7.39 to 7.43 would it grow well.
He stared at the graph for a moment, then ran for the door. On his way out he grinned at his assistant and said, "It's all over. Our troubles are finished."
He could not have been more wrong.
28. The Test
IN THE MAIN CONTROL ROOM, STONE WAS WATCHING the television screen that showed Burton in the sealed lab.
"The oxygen's going in," Stone said.
"Stop it," Hall said.
"What?"
"Stop it now. Put him on room air."
Hall was looking at Burton. On the screen, it was clear that the oxygen was beginning to affect him. He was no longer breathing so rapidly; his chest moved slowly.
He picked up the microphone.
"Burton," he said, "this is Hall. I've got the answer. The Andromeda Strain grows within a narrow range of pH. Do you understand? A very narrow range. If you're either acidotic or alkalotic, you'll be all right. I want you to go into respiratory alkalosis. I want you to breathe as fast as you can."
Burton said, "But this is pure oxygen. I'll hyperventilate and pass out. I'm a little dizzy now."
"No. We're switching back to air. Now start breathing as fast as you can."
Hall turned back to Stone. "Give him a higher carbon dioxide atmosphere."
"But the organism flourishes in carbon dioxide!"
"I know, but not at an unfavorable pH of the blood. You see, that's the problem: air doesn't matter, but blood does. We have to establish an unfavorable acid balance for Burton's blood."
Stone suddenly understood. "The child," he said. "It screamed.
"Yes."
"And the old fellow with the aspirin hyperventilated."
"Yes. And drank Sterno besides."
"And both of them shot their acid-base balance to hell," Stone said.
"Yes," Hall said. "My trouble was, I was hung up on the acidosis. I didn't understand how the baby could become acidotic. The answer, of course, was that it didn't. It became basic-- too little acid. But that was all right-- you could go either way, too much acid or too little-- as long as you got out of the growth range of Andromeda."
He turned back to Burton. "All right now," he said. "Keep breathing rapidly. Don't stop. Keep your lungs going and blow off your carbon dioxide. How do you feel?"
"Okay," Burton panted. "Scared...but...okay."
"Good."
"Listen," Stone said, "we can't keep Burton that way forever. Sooner or later..."
"Yes," Hall said. "We'll alkalinize his blood."
To Burton: "Look around the lab. Do you see anything we could use to raise your blood pH?
Burton looked. "No, not really."
"Bicarbonate of soda? Ascorbic acid? Vinegar?"
Burton searched frantically among the bottles and reagents on the lab shelf, and finally shook his head. "Nothing here that will work."
Hall hardly heard him. He had been counting Burton's respirations; they were up to thirty-five a minute, deep and full. That would hold him for a time, but sooner or later he would become exhausted-- breathing was hard work-- or pass out.
He looked around the lab from his vantage point. And it was while doing this that he noticed the rat. A black Norway, sitting calmly in its cage in a corner of the room, watching Burton.