Jason

: The Blue Germ

Next morning the headlines of the newspapers blazed out the news of the

meeting at the Queen's Hall, and the world read the words of Sarakoff.



Strange to say, most of the papers seemed inclined to view the situation

seriously.



"If," said one in a leading article, "it really means that immortality

is coming to humanity--and there is, at least, much evidence from

Birmingham that supports the v
ew that the germ cures all sickness--then

we are indeed face to face with a strange problem. For how will

immortality affect us as a community? As a community, we live together

on the tacit assumption that the old will die and the young will take

their place. All our laws and customs are based on this idea. We can

scarcely think of any institution that is not established upon the

certainty of death. What, then, if death ceases? Our food supply----"



I was interrupted, while reading, by my servant who announced that a

gentleman wished to see me on urgent business. I laid aside the paper

and waited for him to enter.



My early visitor was a tall, heavily-built man, with strong eyes. He was

carefully dressed. He looked at me attentively, nodded, and sat down.



"My name is Jason--Edward Jason. You have no doubt heard of me."



"Certainly," I said. "You are the proprietor of this paper that I have

just been reading."



He nodded.



"And of sixty other daily papers, Dr. Harden," he said in a soft voice.

"I control much of the opinion in the country, and I intend to control

it all before I die."



"A curious intention. But why should you die? You will get the germ in

time. I calculate that in a month at the outside the whole of London and

the best part of the country will be infected."



While I spoke he stared hard at me. He nodded again, glanced at his

boots, pinched his lips, and then stared again.



"A year ago I made a tour of all the big men in your profession, both

here, in America, and on the continent, Dr. Harden. I had a very

definite reason for doing this. The reason was that--well, it does not

matter now. I wanted a diagnosis and a forecast of the future. I

consulted forty medical men--all with big names. Twenty-one gave me

practically identical opinions. The remaining nineteen were in

disagreement. Of that nineteen six gave me a long life."



"What did the twenty-one give you?"



"Five years at the outside."



I looked at him critically.



"Yes, I should have given the same--a year ago."



He coloured a little, and his gaze fell; he shifted himself in his

chair. Then he looked up suddenly, with a strong glow in his eyes.



"And now?"



"Now I give you--immortality." I spoke quite calmly, with no intention

of any dramatic effect.



The colour faded from his cheeks, and the glow in his eyes increased.



"If I get the Blue Disease, do you swear that it will cure me?"



"Of course it will cure you."



He got to his feet. He seemed to be in the grip of some powerful

emotion, and I could see that he was determined to control himself. He

walked down the room and stood for some time near the window.



"A gipsy once told me I would die when I was fifty-two. Will you believe

me when I say that that prophecy has weighed upon me more than any

medical opinion?" He turned and came up the room and stood before me.

"Did you ever read German psychology and philosophy?"



"To a certain extent--in translations."



"Well, Dr. Harden, I stepped out of the pages of some of those books, I

think. You've heard of the theory of the Will to Power? The men who

based human life on that instinct were right!" He clenched his hands and

closed his eyes. "This last year has been hell to me. I've been haunted

every hour by the thought of death--just so much longer--so many

thousand days--and then Nothing!" He opened his eyes and sat down

before me. "Are you ambitious, Dr. Harden?"



"I was--very ambitious."



"Do you know what it is to have a dream of power, luring you on day and

night? Do you know what is to see the dream becoming reality, bit by

bit--and then to be given a time limit, when the dream is only half

worked out?"



"I have had my dream," I said. "It is now realized."



"The germ?"



I nodded. He leaned forward.



"Then you are satisfied?"



"I have no desires now."



He did not appear to understand.



"I don't believe yet in your theory of immortality," he said slowly.

"But I do believe that the germ cures sickness. I have had private

reports from Birmingham, and to-morrow I'm going to publish them as

evidence. You see, Harden, I've decided to back you. To-morrow I'm going

to make Gods of you and your Russian associate. I'm going to call you

the greatest benefactors the race has known. I'm going to lift you up to

the skies."



He looked at me earnestly.



"Doesn't that stir you?" he asked.



"No, I told you that I have no desires."



He laughed.



"You're dazed. You must have worked incredibly hard. Wait till you see

your name surrounded by the phrases I will devise you. I can make men

out of nothing." His eyes shone into mine. "I once heard a man say that

the trail of the serpent lay across my papers. That man is in an asylum

now. I can break men, too, you see. Now I want to ask you something."



I watched him with ease, totally uninfluenced by his magnetism--calm and

aloof as a man watching a mechanical doll.



"Can you limit the germ?" he asked softly.



I shook my head.



"Can you take any steps to stop it or keep it--within control?"



I shook my head again. He stared for a minute at me.



"I believe you," he said at last. "It's a pity. Think what we could have

done--just a few of us!" He sat for some time drumming his fingers on

his knees and frowning slightly. Then he stood up.



"Never mind," he exclaimed. "I'm convinced it will cure me. That is the

main thing. I'll have plenty of time to realize my dream now, Harden,

thanks to you. You don't know what that means--ah, you don't know!"



"By the way," I said, "I see you are suggesting that food may become a

problem in the future. I think we'll be all right."



"Why?"



"Well, you see, if there's no desire, there's no appetite."



"I don't understand," he said. "It seems clear that if disease is

mastered by the germ, then the death-rate will drop, and there will be

more mouths to fill. If everyone lives for their threescore and ten, the

food question will be serious."



"Oh, they'll live longer than that. They'll live for ever, Mr. Jason."



He laughed tolerantly.



"In any case there will be a food problem," he said in a quiet friendly

voice. "There will be more births, and more children--for none will

die--and more old people."



"There won't be more births," I said.



He swung round on his heel.



"Why not?" he asked sharply.



"Because there will be no desire, Mr. Jason. You can't have births

without desires, don't you see?"



At that moment Sarakoff entered the room. I introduced him to the great

newspaper proprietor. Jason made some complimentary remarks, which

Sarakoff received with cool gravity.



I could see that Jason was very puzzled. He had seated himself again,

and was watching the Russian closely.



"The effects of last night have vanished," said Sarakoff to me. "My head

is clear again and I have no intention of ever repeating the

experiment."



"You got back, to some extent."



"Yes, partly. It was tremendously painful. I felt like a man in a

nightmare."



I turned to Jason and explained what had happened at the restaurant. He

listened intently.



"You see," I concluded, "the germ kills desire. Sarakoff and I live on a

level of consciousness that is undisturbed by any craving. We live in a

wonderful state of peace, which is only broken by the appearance of

physical danger--against which, of course, the germ is not proof."



Jason was silent.



"Do you mean to tell me," he said at length, in a very deliberate voice,

"that the effect of the germ is to destroy ambition?"



"Worldly ambition, certainly," I replied. "But I believe that, in time,

ambitions of a subtler nature will reveal themselves in us, as

Immortals."



Jason smiled very broadly.



"Gentlemen," he said, "you are wonderful men. You have discovered

something that benefits humanity enormously. But take my advice--leave

your other theories alone. Stick to the facts--that your germ cures

sickness. Drop the talk about immortality and desire. It's too

fantastic, even for me. In the meantime I shall spread abroad the news

that the end of sickness is at hand, and that humanity is on the

threshold of a new era. For that I believe with all my heart."



"One moment," said Sarakoff. "If you believe that this germ does away

with disease, what is going to cause men to die?"



"Old age."



"But that is a disease itself."



"Wear and tear isn't a disease. That's what kills most of us."



"Yes, but wear and tear comes from desire, Mr. Jason," I said. "And the

germ knocks that out. So what is left, save immortality?"



When Jason left us, I could see that he was impressed by the possibility

of life being, at least, greatly prolonged. And this was the line he

took in his newspapers next day.



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