Maybe the three-day closing of trading over the holiday would provide a cooling-off period and avert a panic? He shook his head, even as the thought began to form—he was honest enough with himself to recognize wishful thinking when he saw it. This was still only Wednesday morning, and with the aid of electronics these things could avalanche in hours, if not less.
On the other hand, the technical dispute at the back of it all might generate enough uncertainty to slow things down. He had been getting calls all week from reporters and journalists asking for comments, and his initially patient denials and explanations were beginning to sound more curt. Medieval superstition had not gone away with the advent of technology and its supposed accompanying rationalism; it had merely been computerized.
It couldn’t be a coincidence that all this should be starting to happen again just when the company seemed ready to soar. Everything that was going on had the same feel and imprint about it as the events of three years ago that he had believed were over. Except that this time it had a more sophisticated touch. Whoever was behind it had been doing a lot more background research this time; or somebody was leaking information.
He still couldn’t comprehend the spite of mentalities that would undermine what they had been unable to equal, the cowardice of trying to tear down now what they had been unwilling to risk themselves. But it seemed a truer picture of human history than the one he had tried to construct around himself, in which integrity and merit paid in the end. He had an uncomfortable feeling that perhaps he was just waking up to a fact of life that would already be self-evident to somebody like Kevin, and Kevin had been too kind or too polite to bring to his attention.
If true, then there probably wasn’t very much that he could do about it, he decided. People were largely born what they were, and even if that weren’t strictly the case, he was long past the age when nurturing or good intentions were likely to make much difference. He’d read a theory somewhere that the same peculiarity of makeup that enabled people to excel in one direction always created some compensating inadequacy somewhere else. He should have taken more notice of Doug in the early days, he told himself, for whatever use that was now.
The phone on his desk rang. He steeled himself for another reporter. “Dr. Heber, what is your reaction to the allegations that have been appearing recently concerning . . .?” Or, “Can you state categorically, Dr. Heber, that there are no adverse side effects whatsoever?” But it had to be done, of course. If not he, then who?
He sat forward and picked up the phone. “Yes, Beverley?”
“I’ve got Michelle Lang on the line for you.”
“Oh.” Eric’s eyebrows raised. “Very well. Put her through.”
“Hello, Eric?”
“Yes. Hello there. What’s new in the legal parts of the world? Or did I phrase that badly? Are there illegal parts?”
“I think I’m beginning to see where Kevin gets it from. As a matter of fact it’s more social. I know this is short notice, but are you doing anything for lunch?”
“Well, I was originally scheduled to spend it with a couple of entomologists from San Francisco who are interested in using mecs to observe working insect colonies from the inside.” Eric shrugged to himself. “At least, they were interested. They’ve canceled the trip. I guess we slipped down on the priority scale. Why, are you due out this way?”
“I can be,” Michelle said. “And I want to talk to you—preferably before the holiday.”
“Well, I’m glad somebody does, apart from jugular-seeking reporters. What time did you have in mind?”
“I’m flexible. How about twelve-thirty?”
“Sounds good. Would you like to meet here?”
“That would be fine. Oh—and by the way, I mentioned what you said about Relativity to a physicist I know at the university. He said you’re crazy, it’s all been proved experimentally, and haven’t you ever heard of mass . . . what was it? I’ve got a note somewhere here . . .”