“I’ve released you from all emotions but fear,” Shaddack said, “which is necessary for self-preservation. Now that the chemistry of your body is no longer undergoing wild swings, you’ll think more clearly.”
“So far as I’ve noticed, I’ve not suddenly become a genius.”
“Well, you might not notice a greater mental acuity yet, but in time you will.”
“When?”
“When your body is fully purged of the residue of a lifetime of emotional pollution. Meanwhile, your interior computer”—he lightly tapped Watkins’s chest—”is also programmed to use complex electrical stimuli to induce the body to create wholly new amino-acid compounds that keep your blood vessels scoured and free of plaque and clots, kill cancerous cells the moment they appear, and perform a double score of other chores, keeping you far healthier than ordinary men, no doubt dramatically lengthening your life-span.”
Shaddack had expected the healing process to be accelerated in New People, but he had been surprised at the almost miraculous speed with which their wounds closed. He still could not entirely understand how new tissue could be formed so quickly, and his current work on Moonhawk was focused on discovering an explanation for that effect. The healing was not accomplished without a price, for the metabolism was fantastically accelerated; stored body fat was burned prodigiously in order to close a wound in seconds or minutes, leaving the healed man pounds lighter, sweat-drenched, and fiercely hungry.
Watkins frowned and wiped one shaky hand across his sweaty face. “I can maybe see that healing would be speeded up, but what gives us the ability to so completely reshape ourselves, to regress to another form? Surely not even buckets of these biological chemicals could tear down our bodies and rebuild them in just a minute or two. How can that be?”
For a moment Shaddack met the other man’s gaze, then looked away, coughed, and said, “Listen, I can explain all of this to you later. Right now I want to see Peyser. I hope you were able to restrain him without doing much damage.”
As Shaddack reached toward the door to push it open, Watkins seized his wrist, staying his hand. Shaddack was shocked. He did not allow himself to be touched.
“Take your hand off me.”
“How can the body be so suddenly reshaped?”
“I told you, we’ll discuss it later.”
“Now.” Watkins’s determination was so strong that it carved deep lines in his face. “Now. I’m so scared I can’t think straight. I can’t function at this level of fear, Shaddack. Look at me. I’m shaking. I feel like I’m going to blow apart. A million pieces. You don’t know what happened here tonight, or you’d feel the same way. I’ve got to know How can our bodies change so suddenly?”
Shaddack hesitated. “I’m working on that.”
Surprised, Watkins let go of his wrist and said, “You … you mean you don’t know?”
“It’s an unexpected effect. I’m beginning to understand it”—which was a lie—”but I’ve got a lot more work to do.” First he had to understand the New People’s phenomenal healing powers, which were no doubt an aspect of the same process that allowed them to completely metamorphose into subhuman forms.
“You subjected us to this without knowing what all it might do to us?”
“I knew it would be a benefit, a great gift,” Shaddack said impatiently, “No scientist can ever predict all the side effects. He has to proceed with the confidence that whatever side effects arise will not outweigh the benefits.”
“But they do outweigh the benefits,” Watkins said, as close to anger as a New Man could get. “My God, how could you have done this to us?”
“I did this for you.”
Watkins stared at him, then pushed open the bedroom door and said, “Have a look.”
Shaddack stepped into the room, where the carpet was damp and some of the walls festooned—with blood. He grimaced at the stink. He found all biological odors unusually repellent, perhaps because they were a reminder that human beings were far less efficient and clean than machines. After stopping at the first corpse which lay facedown near the door—and studying it, he looked across the room at the second body. “Two of them? Two regressives, and you killed both? Two chances to study the psychology of these degenerates, and you threw away both opportunities?”