Compared to the above, the third piece of catastrophic news was relatively harmless. The veterinary board has approved fewer animal experiments than we applied for. To keep the present number of permits, the commission wants detailed information on the experiments, which in plain language means that they, too, want to see results. Well, what's there to say to that? It's as if the project were being financed not by PHARMAROX, but by these smarty-pants. Of course I know who's behind all this meddling: Knorr and his philistines. Since they see no other possibility of sabotaging my work, they're resorting to nasty tricks.
It is now 2 A.M. The entire building is sweltering in heat. I'm drunk again, and all my feelings seem numb. Just now I was in the animal room to see my patients and give them water. They all have big, ugly scars, clearly visible on their shaved bodies. It is regrettable that some of them had to be mutilated, but we had no choice. The worst one off is Claudandus, whose genetic code we still haven't been able to crack. Countless experiments have gradually given him the appearance of a monster. He was sleeping, but even in sleep he moaned in pain. If a wonder does indeed happen, I will perpetuate his memory. 1 will call the preparation CLAUDANDUS.
23 August 1980
I did it today. When I left the lab at three in the morning and staggered back to the car, I was somewhat disoriented, being under the influence of a considerable dose of grape juice; still, they caught my attention. One of these strange creatures sat in front of almost every house door keeping watch over its territory. Since they are primarily nocturnal, they are compelled to go out at midnight. Then the city belongs to them. It must be seen to be believed. They practically take over the city. 1 suddenly had the absurd suspicion that they feel superior to us and are only waiting for the opportune moment to subjugate us. It reminds me of the story of the carnivorous plant that someone brought back home as a seedling and cared for until one fine day, tall and strong, it devoured the entire family.
I was strolling wearily down the street when 1 saw two strong-looking specimens sitting on a garden wall. Their faces had a philosophical expression, as if they were meditating on the endlessness of the universe. The thought amused me, but at the same time, I remembered our lack of experimental animals and our constant trouble with the veterinary authorities. In doing what I then did, I was conscious of no blame. I scarcely gave it a moment's thought; I damped the two philosophers under my arms, rushed back to the lab, and locked them up in cages. They glared at me nastily, obviously no longer meditating on the endlessness of the universe.
And now I ask the imaginary judge in my mind: am I a criminal just because I seized two living beings for an experiment on whose success many lives, including animal lives, depend? Am I a duty rotten scoundrel because I take risks for science? But the judge in my mind is silent; he has no reply. And that is much worse than if he were to condemn me. It is not the silence of the judge that makes the blood in my veins freeze in terror, but that of the victims.
15 September 1980
The rats are abandoning the sinking ship. Today, Ziebold bid us adieu. He got out of giving a plausible reason for his leaving. During the sad farewell interview we held in my office, the man spoke the whole time like a book of riddles. Gradually, however, I have become a world master at solving riddles and know how to interpret signs and half-truths correctly. I felt how everyone here is conspiring against me, how they are all waiting for my complete and utter ruin. The failure was probably planned right from the beginning; why else would Ziebold have so readily left the institute to sign up with me? He never said anything about feeling unhappy here, before. With only one offer 1 enticed him to join my project—or so it seemed to me then in my naïveté. But I have learned a thing or two since then. Today, I know that my project was sabotaged right from the beginning. It's rather strange that up to now the only one to have achieved any success has been I. Yes, that must be it. They want to ruin me.
My telephone has probably been tapped. But I will not make myself conspicuous in any way. I will eke out a solution here, and work, right to the bitter end. As far as I'm concerned, they can all leave. I can do without them.
3:20 P.M.
I have the suspicion that even Rosalie is in cahoots with them. Why else would she make life hell for me day after day with her reproaches? Surely only to weaken my intellectual powers and keep me from my work. This is why I won't go home anymore. The situation is unpleasant enough as it is. Moreover, I have more than enough to do every night "organizing" experimental animals.
29 September 1980
A free-for-all worthy of Hollywood took place in the lab today. Knorr, Gabriel, and I all suffered black eyes and bruises. No one has ever called me violent, but in view of the impudence one has to put up with here, even Gandhi
