My only remaining joys are my work and Rosalie. Or does Rosalie also figure in that chapter called "The Deceptions That Life Has Contrived"? Isn't it closer to the truth that she is only a fond habit, one I can't drop because then I'd have to admit, shamefaced, that she was really nothing but a habit and that for years I have made much ado about nothing? I hope not.
I have never had passionate relations with women. I have neither understood them nor have they particularly interested me, not even as a young man. I married the first woman who struck up a friendship with me. I never did find the entrance to that realm of life described by the poets as the one most worth living for. What, then, have I done with my life?
I must stop this demoralizing moping around. It'll get me nowhere. It is late. The animals will be delivered tomorrow morning, and I have to be here when they arrive. I requested permission to perform experiments on chimpanzees, but, just as I expected, my application was not approved. Their flimsy argument was that primates may only be used in the last phase of the project. Ignoramuses! Something truly epoch making is in the works here, and they're too blind to recognize it.
But I have to keep calm. Really, I should at least be happy not to have to experiment on mice; with their thin skin they would be a waste of time for my purposes.
18 March 1980
The animals have arrived! An incessant meowing resounds throughout the building, and the lab technicians are beside themselves with delight at the droll behavior of these lively creatures. We have fed and caressed them together. They'd have it good with us here: I guarantee it.
27 March 1980
The first experiment failed. We made small incisions in the heads of five animals without anesthetic and treated the edges of the wounds with the soup. But instead of sticking together, the mixture burned the skin away completely, and ate its way like acid through the skull to the brain. The animals had to be put to sleep immediately.
So it was a setback. I hadn't expected anything else in the beginning, but, on the other hand, I also hadn't reckoned with the frighteningly aggressive nature of the substance. Something basic is out of whack. We have to work even harder. Rome has been cancelled.
2 April 1980/1:20 A.M.
I'm hopelessly drunk and really astonished that I'm still capable of putting my thoughts down on paper. Last week's dud was a nastier blow to my self-confidence than I was at first willing to admit to myself. It's really peculiar. We used the mixture in the experiment that should have had the greatest chance of succeeding. No one had foreseen the terrible consequences. Even Gray, who regards everything with skepticism, was shaken by the unforeseen reaction.
As could not otherwise be expected, the virtuous Dr. Gabriel leaked a message to his Swiss accomplices before I could write my report and send it off to Switzerland. Then Geibel called personally to get the details of the debacle. These scare tactics are scandalous and can only harm team morale.
After the autopsy of the animals, we are assuming that the failure of the experiment may be attributed to an excessively high concentration of maleic acid. The scalp, the skull, and the brains of the subjects look like plastic that's been melted by heat. Diluting the solution may be next month's answer.
I have to work twice as hard now. Rosalie will have to get used to seeing me only on the weekend.
11 April 1980
An irony of fate: although we now house thirty animals here, this morning a rather dignified fellow found a new home with us. While parking my car in front of the lab, I saw him running back and forth at the door, energetically scratching at it again and again. Courageous guy. He looks like he's homeless, although his muscular body shows that he has a first-class constitution. The lab technicians are convinced that he's a stray. So we took in the cheeky devil and declared him our mascot. He has the run of the building with everyone spoiling him and giving him treats to eat. It would interest me to find out what he thinks about his own kind in the cages.
25 April 1980
A new experiment, a new flop. Three animals had their bellies shaved and cut open with a scalpel. Then the edges of the wounds were coated with the soup and the wounds closed with clamps. Five hours later, we discovered to our disappointment that the cementing effect practically hadn't taken place. In my opinion, decreasing the acidic component caused the failure. Obviously, the acidic component exercises a mysterious effect on the mixture, and I must admit that the other substances do not harmonize with one another very well. In order to achieve a breakthrough, many more animal experiments are going to be necessary, and consequently we will need more animals than we originally calculated. But most of all, we need more time. The whole business is annoying, especially because we still have to concern ourselves, after we have solved this problem, with whether or not the immune system will tolerate the preparation; there may still be a time-delayed rejection. This will be an uphill battle.
Soon I will write my report and send it off to Switzerland. It's devastating to have to report bad news, but that's the way things are. I have, however, the strong suspicion that Dr. Gabriel already informed PHARMAROX long ago. Incidentally, this fine gentleman makes no effort whatsoever to conceal his true role in the project. As if that were not enough, that repulsive Knorr from the institute has given word that he will visit us.
