There I was, at the table beside Burt, confused and open-mouthed as I tried to run the maze with the electric stylus.
Each time I received a shock, my expression changed to an absurd wide-eyed stare, and then that foolish smile again.
Each time it happened the audience roared. Race after race, it was repeated, and each time they found it funnier than before.
I told myself they were not gawking curiosity seekers, but scientists here in search of knowledge.
They couldn't help finding these pictures funny—but still, as Burt caught the spirit and made amusing comments on the films, I was overcome with a sense of mischief.
It would be even funnier to see Algernon escape from his cage, and to see all these people scattering and crawling around on their hands and knees trying to retrieve a small, white, scurrying genius.
But I controlled myself, and by the time Strauss took the podium the impulse had passed.
Strauss dealt largely with the theory and techniques of neurosurgery, describing in detail how pioneer studies on the mapping of hormone control centers enabled him to isolate and stimulate these centers while at the same time removing the hormone-inhibitor producing portion of the cortex.
He explained the enzyme-block theory and went on to describe my physical condition before and after surgery.
Photographs (I didn't know they had been taken) were passed around and commented on, and I could see by the nods and smiles that most people there agreed with him that the "dull, vacuous facial expression" had been transformed into an "alert, intelligent appearance." He also discussed in detail the pertinent aspects of our therapy sessions—especially my changing attitudes toward free association on the couch.
I had come there as part of a scientific presentation, and I had expected to be put on exhibition, but everyone kept talking about me as if I were some kind of newly created thing they were presenting to the scientific world.
No one in this room considered me an individual—a human being.
The constant juxtaposition of
"Algernon and Charlie," and
"Charlie and Algernon," made it clear that they thought of both of us as a couple of experimental animals who had no existence outside the laboratory.
But, aside from my anger, I couldn't get it out of my mind that something was wrong.
Finally, it was Nemur's turn to speak—to sum it all up as the head of the project—to take the spotlight as the author of a brilliant experiment.
This was the day he had been waiting for.
He was impressive as he stood up there on the platform, and, as he spoke, I found myself nodding with him, agreeing with things I knew to be true.
The testing, the experiment, the surgery, and my subsequent mental development were described at length, and his talk was enlivened by quotations from my progress reports. More than once I found myself hearing something personal or foolish read to this audience.
Thank God I had been careful to keep most of the details about Alice and myself in my private file.
Then, at one point in his summary, he said it:
"We who have worked on this project at Beekman University have the satisfaction of knowing we have taken one of nature's mistakes and by our new techniques created a superior human being.
When Charlie came to us he was outside of society, alone in a great city without friends or relatives to care about him, without the mental equipment to live a normal life.
No past, no contact with the present, no hope for the future. It might be said that Charlie Gordon did not really exist before this experiment…."
I don't know why I resented it so intensely to have them think of me as something newly minted in their private treasury, but it was—I am certain—echoes of that idea that had been sounding in the chambers of my mind from the time we had arrived in Chicago.
I wanted to get up and show everyone what a fool he was, to shout at him: I'm a human being, a person —with parents and memories and a history —and I was before you ever wheeled me into that operating room!
At the same time deep in the heat of my anger there was forged an overwhelming insight into the thing that had disturbed me when Strauss spoke and again when Nemur amplified his data.
They had made a mistake—of course!
The statistical evaluation of the waiting period necessary to prove the permanence of the change had been based on earlier experiments in the field of mental development and learning, on waiting periods with normally dull or normally intelligent animals.
But it was obvious that the waiting period would have to be extended in those cases where an animals intelligence had been increased two or three times.
Nemur's conclusions had been premature.
For both Algernon and myself, it would take more time to see if this change would stick The professors had made a mistake, and no one else had caught it.
I wanted to jump up and tell them, but I couldn't move.
Like Algernon, I found myself behind the mesh of the cage they had built around me.
Now there would be a question period, and before I would be allowed to have my dinner, I would be required to perform before this distinguished gathering.
No.
I had to get out of there.
"… In one sense, he was the result of modern psychological experimentation.
In place of a feeble-minded shell, a burden on the society that must fear his irresponsible behavior, we have a man of dignity and sensitivity, ready to take his place as a contributing member of society.
I should like you all to hear a few words from Charlie Gordon…"
God damn him.
He didn't know what he was talking about. At that point, the compulsion overwhelmed me.
I watched in fascination as my hand moved, independent of my will, to pull down the latch of Algernon's cage.
As I opened it he looked up at me and paused. Then he turned, darted out of his cage, and scampered across the long table.
At first, he was lost against the damask tablecloth, a blur of white on white, until a woman at the table screamed, knocking her chair backwards as she leaped to her feet. Beyond her, pitchers of water overturned, and then Burt shouted.
"Algernon's loose!"
Algernon jumped down from the table, onto the platform and then to the floor.
"Get him!
Get him!" Nemur screeched as the audience, divided in its aims, became a tangle of arms and legs.