understand: the financial resources that each one here has brought into our community have allowed our research to continue.”
“Research?”
“Yes, for some time now Dr. Henderson has been working to find a way to synthesize perilium,” Vale said. “Our goal is that someday we’ll be able to manufacture enough for anyone who needs it.”
“Very noble. I’d be curious to see his research.”
“That could be arranged,” Vale said.
“And what about you?” George said. “What’s your role in the ‘community’?”
“Balance,” Vale said with a half smile. “I maintain the balance between secrecy and progress. If word of perilium got out prematurely, we would be overrun by hordes of scientists and businessmen. Well-meaning though they may be, they would ruin the delicate balance I maintain with the N’watu. I’m trying to respect their culture while attempting to—”
“Exploit their knowledge?” George raised an eyebrow.
Vale’s expression darkened momentarily, but then a thin smile curled on his lips. “Think about it, George. A day is coming when we can potentially wipe out all disease. When cancer and diabetes and even Alzheimer’s become things of the past.” He leaned close, and his tone grew serious. “Imagine what kind of world that would be.”
George looked across the room, his thoughts coiling around Vale’s words. What kind of world indeed. Free from sickness and disease and the stigma that accompanied them. He’d always thought such dreams were the realm of wishful thinkers or religious hopefuls.
He felt Vale’s hand on his shoulder. “I’m offering you the chance to be a part of it, George.”
George watched Miriam laughing as she chatted with Loraine and Malcolm Browne and the Huxleys. Just a few days earlier she’d been all but a stranger to him. But now it was as if he’d gotten her back from the dead. This perilium was perhaps the most significant discovery in the history of the world. Its impact would be enormous. How could he not be involved?
Amanda came up to Vale and said softly, “We’re ready to eat.”
Vale called for attention. The lights dimmed, and everyone took their places around the main candlelit table with Vale at the head and George and Miriam sitting to his right. Numerous covered platters had been set out along with several bottles of wine. But before anyone began eating, Vale stood and raised his glass.
“My friends, it gives me great pleasure to welcome George and Miriam Wilcox into our circle of fellowship. As most of you know, Miriam was suffering from advanced Alzheimer’s when she arrived the day before yesterday. Just two short days ago she could barely recognize her husband of fifty years, and yet now she sits among us completely restored. Their marriage has been made whole again, and she becomes a privileged recipient of nature’s greatest miracle.” He turned to George and Miriam. “May you be blessed to enjoy a long and healthy life together.”
“Hear, hear,” Max Dunham said to a chorus of clinking glass.
Amanda circled the table, lifting the covers off the platters to reveal steaming vegetables, fresh-baked dinner rolls, and a large salver of meat. Fillets and tenderloins were stacked high on the plate.
All of them quite raw.
George suppressed a gasp. Was something wrong? Was this some kind of sick joke? Miriam seemed repulsed as well and clutched his arm. George looked around the table, but no one else appeared to be disturbed by the sight. Everyone was serving themselves and shoving forkfuls of the red, bloody meat into their mouths. Vale was enjoying a particularly thick fillet, mopping the blood up with a dinner roll. He seemed to notice George’s look of disgust and smiled. “I see our custom doesn’t sit well with you.”
George grabbed a roll. “I guess I just prefer my steak grilled.”
Vale clucked his tongue and slipped another forkful of meat into his mouth. “Did you know that the Inuit in the Far North eat raw meat almost exclusively? So do the Masai of Africa. Both of these cultures are known for their extraordinary health and freedom from disease.”
“Still… if it’s all the same to you, I’ll stick with cooked meat.”
“Suit yourself. I can have Amanda put something on the grill.”
“Actually,” George said, “it’s all right. I’ll be content with vegetables and some rolls.”
Malcolm Browne was seated across from George. He wiped a few drops of blood from his chin. “You know, I was the same way when I first arrived. But I discovered it’s an acquired taste.”
“So I’ve heard.”
George was no longer hungry. The Inuit notwithstanding, this was one custom he was definitely not going to adopt. Miriam, however, was staring at the platter. George watched her expression slowly turn from horror to curiosity as she studied the others dining on the raw flesh.
He leaned over and whispered, “Tell me you’re not thinking about trying that.”
Miriam’s lips tightened. “I’m starving.”
“So have some vegetables.”
“Haven’t you ever felt a craving for something? A certain kind of food? And no matter what you try, nothing else seems to satisfy it?”
George was mortified. “You’re not serious. It’s
Miriam looked away. “Just a little taste.”
She reached out and plucked a small fillet off the platter with her fork, then sliced off a thin piece while George looked on, dumbfounded. She doused it with table salt, raised it to her lips, paused a moment… then put it in her mouth. George watched her chew on the morsel. Her eyes closed and George’s widened. She looked like she was actually
Vale took a drink of his wine. “The human body craves protein, George. It needs it to survive. We’re built from it, after all. There may be other sources—nuts and legumes and such.” He grinned. “But nothing provides the raw material our bodies need like real, fresh meat.”
George was feeling slightly faint. “Fine, so why not cook it? At least sear it a little.”
“The body assimilates the protein more readily when it’s ingested raw,” Vale said. “Understand that as perilium accelerates the rate at which the body repairs itself, it naturally requires a ready store of raw material with which to work. The best source of this is through the regular consumption of protein. Copious amounts of protein.”
George wrinkled his forehead. “Copious amounts…”
Miriam had polished off her fillet and reached for another. As George watched her eat, he couldn’t help feeling as if she was somehow drifting away from him again.
George barely made it through the meal. The conversation around him ranged from art to politics to philosophy, with Vale behaving as though he were holding court in the dining hall, encouraging debate and discussion among the other attendees.
Dwight Henderson and Malcolm Browne diverged on the specific points of obscure economic philosophies, while Max Dunham and Frank Carson got into a rather heated tangential debate over whether or not the reparations in the Treaty of Versailles had led to hyperinflation in Germany and ultimately to the Second World War.
George alternated between fascination and disgust. The level of intellectualism in the room was staggering, yet all the while they were chewing on raw meat like cavemen.
Afterward, Loraine continued to monopolize Miriam’s attention, so George, wearied as he was by Vale’s cohorts, went out to the patio for some fresh air.
He leaned on the railing of the narrow parapet and gazed down the sheer side of the cliff into the jagged rocks and twisted pine trees more than a hundred feet below. Above him, the sky looked like a diamond-studded, black velvet blanket. It seemed like he could see into eternity. He was lost in thought when the door opened behind him and Amanda stepped outside.
She didn’t seem to notice George standing in the shadows as she walked to the rail, placed her hands on it, and leaned over as far as she could. The woman, George noted, did not seem happy. He had not seen her smile at all during the meal nor talk much to anyone. And yet she was actually quite beautiful, though she wore no makeup, pulled her hair back in a simple fashion, and was dressed far more plainly than George would have expected a woman of her looks to be.
He was intrigued. “It’s not that bad here, is it?”
