“It is surprisingly difficult,” he went on quickly, “to gather this kind of information without attracting attention to myself and arousing comment regarding a project that should remain secret until its completion. Many entities within the hospital dine alone, either out of personal preference or because urgent professional duties make the journey to and from the dining hall too wasteful of their time. Any record of the food ordered by them is erased once the order is filled and dispatched, there being no necessity to store such information, and the only way of discovering the dishes chosen would be to intercept the original order or breach the delivery vehicle, neither of which could be done covertly. It would be much simpler if you were to give me the necessary information.”
“Unless the food chosen indicates depraved tastes, whatever that may mean in this medical madhouse,” said Lioren, speaking for the first time, “information on food preferences can scarcely be classified as a privileged communication. I see no reason for withholding such information, but why not ask the Major for it directly? Why the need for secrecy?”
“Naturally,” he went on, “the testing of single members of selected species, as I have been doing with the AUGL patient One-Thirteen and Charge Nurse Hredlichli, produces useful data. But even with this method time can be wasted, albeit sometimes pleasantly, in debating culinary side-issues. I have decided, therefore, that for the best results the subject should be unaware of the test until after its conclusion.”
For a moment Lieutenant Braithwaite stared at him, its mouth open but neither speaking nor smiling, and Cha Thrat had joined in its silence. It was Lioren who spoke first.
“As a person,” it said quietly, “the Chief Psychologist is not well-beloved by anyone I know, but it is greatly respected by all. We would not wish to join in a plot to poison it.”
“Could it be,” said Braithwaite, finding its voice again, “that the pressure of responsibility and the enormity of its task has caused our Chief Dietician to develop a death wish?”
“The problem lies in my specialty,” said Gurronsevas sharply, “not yours.”
“Sorry,” Braithwaite said, “my question was not meant to be taken seriously. But you risk offending a very powerful and short-tempered entity who is unlikely to conceal any mistakes if they occur. Maybe you should think about that before you begin.”
“I have thought about it,” said Gurronsevas. “If there is confidentiality, the risk is acceptable.”
“Then we will give you what help we can,” the Lieutenant replied, “but it may not be much …”
The arrival of O’Mara’s meals was witnessed every day by one or more of the outer office staff, and the contents were enclosed in a sealed and insulated delivery float with a transparent cover. They were able to identify the meals going in and to draw conclusions from the uneaten remains coming out. Occasionally they were able to hear O’Mara criticizing a meal loudly enough for his remarks to be heard through the office door. The criticism usually included an identification of the dish that had been particularly offensive.“… So you can see,” Braithwaite ended apologetically, “that any information that we can give you will be incomplete.”
“But helpful,” said Gurronsevas. “Especially if you will agree to keep me informed regarding the Chief Psychologist’s words and reactions during and subsequent to the consumption of its meals. For the reasons already explained, I would be most grateful if your observation were of a covert nature and any behavioral changes, no matter how small, associated with the menu modifications I shall be making, were relayed to me without delay.”
“How long is the project likely to last?” asked Braithwaite. “A month? Indefinitely?”
“Oh, no,” he replied firmly. “There are over sixty different food-consuming life-forms in the hospital requiring my attention. Ten, or at most fifteen days.”
“Very well,” said the Lieutenant, nodding. “The observation of minor changes in personality or behavior, which can sometimes be an early indication of a major psychological problem developing, is what we in this department are trained to do. Is there anything else we can do for you?”
“Thank you, no,” said Gurronsevas.
As he was turning to leave, Lioren said, “Speaking of personality changes, we are hearing rumors about Charge Nurse Hredlichli. Over the past few days it has been behaving very oddly, showing sympathy and consideration for its junior ward staff and showing early signs of becoming almost a likable personality. Had your PVSJ menu changes anything to do with that, Chief Dietitian?”
They were all making the quiet, untranslatable sounds which indicated that the question was not a serious one. Gurronsevas laughed softly in return.
“I hope so,” he said. “But I cannot guarantee a similar result with Major O’Mara.”
With the small part of his mind that was not concentrating on collision avoidance in the busy corridors between Psychology and the level housing Food Synthesis Control, Gurronsevas thought about Hredlichli. He had spent much more time than he had intended on the PVSJ exercise, but that was because the chlorine-breather had wanted to talk more than eat, and he knew that, however pleasantly, much of the time had been wasted. But in a few hours’ time Hredlichli and himself would be ending this phase of professional contact, and he was almost sorry.
He was not surprised to see Murchison and Timmins already there when he arrived. The pathologist waved a hand at him and said that it had deserted its department for the rest of the day because this was where the action was. The words sounded like a shameful admission of professional negligence and irresponsibility, but he had learned not to take everything the pathologist said seriously.
Because of Gurronsevas’ anxiety in case anything went wrong, Timmins had been asked to advise on the Maintenance Department support regarding the final program changes that were going into the synthesizer serving the PVSJ dining compartment, and hence was too busy to notice his arrival or even the presence of Murchison. Food Technicians Dremon and Kledath were making it clear by the impatient ruffling of their fur that they did not require advice.
Murchison moved closer to him and said briskly, “We completed our analysis of the sample of protective film used on that item of furniture in the exercise lounge adjoining the chlorine-breathers’ dining area. The material has already been passed as safe, and it still is, but the film applied to that particular exerciser contained a small quantity of foreign matter that was probably introduced accidentally during manufacture. When exposed to the ambient chlorine atmosphere over a long period the material dissolves out, releasing trace quantities of a gas which, although completely foreign to their environment and metabolism, is harmless to chlorine-breathers even in high concentrations. The Illensan in Pathology describes the odor as appetizing. That was a nice piece of observation and deduction on your part.”
“Thank you,” said Gurronsevas. “But most of the credit should go to Hredlichli. It was the Charge Nurse who pointed out to me in the first place that a number of its colleagues who used that piece of equipment before meals — apparently Illensans suffer digestive upsets if they exercise after meals — insisted that it helped them work up an appetite. When one is pointed in the right direction it is much easier to reach one’s destination.”
“You are too modest,” said Murchison. “But what are you planning to do next, and to whom?”
Gurronsevas was thinking that this was the first time in his life that he had ever been accused of modesty, when Timmins, whose head had been bent over the control console display, turned to say, “I can’t wait to hear the answer to that question, too.”
They were all watching him. Even the Kelgians were silent, their fur standing up in tight motionless tufts of curiosity. Gurronsevas knew that he would have to speak very carefully if he was to tell them what but not who.
“The PVSJ was a challenging but almost theoretical exercise for me,” he said, “in that it involved the preparation and presentation of edible materials which I myself could not taste and which would have been instantly lethal had I tried. My next project will be more challenging but less dangerous to all concerned because, although the taste and presentation may be personally obnoxious, the food will not poison me or any other warm- blooded oxygen-breather.
“The test subject this time will be an Earth-human DBDG,” he went on, “a member of the species which makes up more than one-fifth of the hospital’s medical and maintenance staff and whose food preferences, as I
