The First Murders

: The Blue Germ

The effect of Jason's newspapers on public opinion was remarkable.

Humanity ever contains within it the need for mystery, and the strange

and incredible, if voiced by authority, stir it to its depths. The facts

about the healing of sickness and the cure of disease in Birmingham were

printed in heavy type and read by millions. Nothing was said about

immortality save what Sarakoff and I had stated at the Queen's Hall

mee
ing. But instinctively the multitude leaped to the conclusion that

if the end of disease was at hand, then the end of death--at least, the

postponement of death--was to be expected.



Jason, pale and masterful, visited us in the afternoon, and told us of

the spread of the tidings in England. "They've swallowed it," he

exclaimed; "it's stirred them as nothing else has done in the last

hundred years. I visited the East End to-day. The streets are full of

people. Crowds everywhere. It might lead to anything."



"Is the infection spreading swiftly?"



"It's spreading. But there are plenty of people, like myself, who

haven't got it yet. I should say that a quarter of London is blue." He

looked at me with a sudden anxiety. "You're sure I'll get it?"



"Quite sure. Everyone is bound to get it. There's no possible immunity."



He sat heavily in the chair, staring at the carpet.



"Harden, I didn't quite like the look of those crowds in the East End.

Anything big like this stirs up the people. It excites them and then the

incalculable may happen. I've been thinking about the effect upon the

uneducated mind. I've spread over the country the vision of humanity

free from disease, and that's roused something in them--something

dangerous--that I didn't foresee. Disease, Harden, whatever you doctors

think of it, puts the fear of God into humanity. It's these sudden

releases--releases from ancient fears--that are so dangerous. Are you

sure you can't stop the germ, or direct it along certain channels?"



"I have already told you that's impossible."



"You might as well try and stop the light of day," said Sarakoff from a

sofa, where he was lying apparently asleep. "Let the people think what

they like now. Wait till they get it themselves. There are rules in the

game, Jason, that you have no conception of, and that I have only

realized since I became immortal. Yes--rules in the game, whether you

play it in the cellar or the attic, or in the valley, or on the mountain

top."



"Your friend is very Russian," said Jason equably. "I have always heard

they are dreamers and visionaries. Personally, I am a practical man, and

as such I foresee trouble. If the masses of the people have no illness,

and enjoy perfect health, we shall be faced by a difficult problem.

They'll get out of hand. Depressed states of health are valuable assets

in keeping the social organization together. All this demands careful

thought. I am visiting the Prime Minister this evening and shall give

him my views."



At that moment a newspaper boy passed the window with an afternoon

edition and Jason went out to get a copy. He returned with a smile of

satisfaction, carrying the paper open before him.



"Three murders in London," he announced. "One in Plaistow, one in East

Ham and one in Pimlico. I told you there was unrest abroad." He laid the

paper on the table and studied it "In every case it was an aged

person--two old women, and one old man. Now what does that mean?"



"A gang at work."



He shook his head.



"No. In one case the murderer has been caught. It was a case of

patricide--a hideous crime. Curiously enough the victim had the Blue

Disease. The end must have been ghastly, as it states here that the

expression on the old man's face was terrible."



He sat beside the table, drumming his fingers on it and staring at the

wall before him. I was not particularly interested in the news, but I

was interested in Jason. Character had formerly appealed little to me,

but now I found an absorbing problem in it.



"Harden, do you think that son killed his father because he had the

Blue Disease?"



I was struck by the remark. For some reason the picture of Alice's

father came into my mind. Jason sprang to his feet.



"Yes, that's it," he exclaimed. "That's what lay behind those restless

crowds. I knew there was something--a riddle to read, and now I've got

the answer. The crowd doesn't know what's rousing them. But I do. It's

fear and resentment, Harden. It's fear and resentment against the old."

He brought his fist down on the table. "The germ's going to lead to war!

It's going to lead to the worst war humanity has ever experienced--the

war of the young against the old. Not the ancient strife or struggle

between young and old, but open bloodshed, my friends. That's what your

germ is going to do."



I smiled and shook my head.



"Wait," said Sarakoff from the sofa; "wait a little. Why are you in such

a hurry to jump to conclusions?"



"Because it's my business to jump to conclusions just six hours before

anyone else does," said Jason. "I calculate that my mind, for the last

twenty years, has been six hours ahead of time. I live in a state of

chronic anticipation, Dr. Sarakoff. Just let me use your telephone for a

moment."



He returned a quarter of an hour later. His expression was calm, but his

eyes were hard. "I was right," he said. "Those two old women had the

Blue Disease, and a girl, a daughter, is suspect in one case. Can't you

imagine the situation? Girl lives with her aged mother--can't get

free--mother has what money there is--not allowed to marry--girl

unconsciously counts on mother's death--probably got a secret

love-affair--is expecting the moment of release--and then, along comes

the Blue Disease and one of my newspapers telling her what it means. The

old lady recovers her health--the future shuts down like a rat trap and

what does the poor girl do? Kills her mother--and probably goes mad.

That, gentlemen, is my theory of the case."



He strode up and down the room.



"You may think I'm taking a low view," he cried. "But there are hundreds

of thousands of similar cases in England. God help the old if the young

forget their religion!"



For some reason I was unmoved by the outcry. It was no doubt owing to

the peculiar emotionless state that the germ induced in people. Jason

was roused. He paced to and fro in silence, with his brows contracted.

At length he stopped before me.



"Do you see any way out?"



"There will be no war between the young and the old," I replied. "In

another week everyone will get the germ and that will be the end of war

in every form."



He drew a chair and sat down before me.



"You don't understand," he said earnestly. "Perhaps you had a happy

childhood. I didn't. I know how some sons and daughters feel because I

suffered in that way. People are strangely blind to suffering unless

they have suffered themselves. When I was a young man, my father put me

in his office and gave me a clerk's wages. He kept me there for six

years at eighteen shillings a week. Whenever I made a suggestion

concerning the business he was careful to ridicule it. Whenever I tried

to break away and start on my own, he prevented it. There were a

thousand other things--ways in which he fettered me. My only sister he

kept at home to do the housework. He forbade her to marry. She and I

never had enough money to do anything, to go anywhere, or to buy

anything. Now, to be quite frank, I longed for him to die so that I

could get free. To me he was an ogre, a great merciless tyrant, a giant

with a club. Well, he died. When he was dead I felt what a man dying of

thirst in the desert must feel when he suddenly comes to a spring of

water. I recovered, and became what I am. My sister never recovered. She

had been suppressed beyond all the limits of elasticity. As far as her

body is concerned, it is alive. Her soul is dead."



He paused and looked at me meditatively.



"If your blue germ had come along then, Harden, I might---- Who knows? I

have often wondered why our pulpit religion ignores the crimes of

parents to their children. I'm not conventionally religious, but I seem

to remember that Christ indirectly said something pretty strong on the

subject. But the pulpit folk show a wonderful facility for ignoring the

awkward things Christ said. In about three years' time I'm going to turn

my guns on the Church. They've sneered at me too much."



"There will be a new Church by that time," murmured Sarakoff. "And no

guns."



Jason eyed the prostrate figure of the Russian.



"I refer to my newspapers. That's going to be my final triumph. Why do

you smile?"



"Because you said a moment ago that it was your business to be six hours

ahead of everyone else. You're countless centuries behind Harden and me.

We have taken a leap into the future. If you want to know what humanity

will be, look at us closely. You'll get some hints that should be

valuable. I admit that our bodies are old-fashioned in their size and

shape, but not our emotions."



The telephone bell rang in the hall and Jason jumped up.



"I think that's for me."



He went out. I remained sitting calmly in my chair. An absolute serenity

surrounded me. All that Jason did or said was like looking at an

interesting play. I was perfectly content to sit and think--think of

Jason, of what his motives were, of the reason why a man is blind where

his desires are at work, of the new life, of the new organizations that

would be necessary. I was like a glutton before a table piled high with

delicacies and with plenty of time to spare. Sarakoff seemed to be in

the same condition for he lay with his eyes half shut, motionless and

absorbed.



Jason entered the room suddenly. He carried his hat and stick.



"Two more murders reported from Greenwich, and ten from Birmingham. It's

becoming serious, Harden! I'm off to Downing Street. Watch the morning

editions!"



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