James Gardner: Three Hearings on the Existence of Snakes in the Human Bloodstream

The hearing was held behind closed doors—a bad sign. Julia Grant had asked some of her colleagues what to expect and they all said, Show trial, show trial. Senator McCarthy loved to get his name in the papers. And yet the reporters were locked out today; just Julia and the Committee.

A very bad sign.

“Good afternoon, Dr. Grant,” McCarthy said after she had sworn to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. His voice had a smarmy quality to it, an unpleasant man’s attempt at charm. “I suppose you know why you’re here?”

“No, Senator.”

“Come now, Doctor,” he chided, as if speaking to a five-year-old. “Surely you must know the purpose of this Committee? And it therefore follows that we’d take great interest in your work.”

“My work is medical research,” she replied tightly. “I have no political interests at all.” She forced herself to stare McCarthy in the eye. “I heal the sick.”

“There’s sickness and there’s sickness.” The senator shrugged. “We can all understand doctors who deal with sniffles and sneezes and heart attacks… but that’s not your field, is it?”

“No,” she answered. “I’m a hematologist, specializing in SA compatibility problems.”

“Could you explain that for the Committee?”

The doctor suspected that every man on the Committee—and they were all men—had already been briefed on her research. If nothing else, they read the newspapers. Still, why not humor them?

“All human blood,” she began, “is either SA-positive or SA-negative—”

“SA stands for Serpentine Analogue?” McCarthy interrupted.

“Yes. The name comes from the outdated belief—”

“That some people have snakes in their bloodstream,” McCarthy interrupted again.

“That’s correct.”

“Do some people have snakes in their bloodstream?” McCarthy asked.

“Snakelike entities,” another senator corrected… probably a Democrat.

“Serpentine analogues are not present in anyone’s bloodstream,” Julia said. “They don’t appear until blood is exposed to air. It’s a specialized clotting mechanism, triggered by an enzyme that encourages microscopic threads to form at the site of an injury—”

“In other words,” McCarthy said, “SA-positive blood works differently from SA-negative. Correct?”

“In this one regard, yes.” Julia nodded.

“Do you think SA-positive blood is better than SA-negative?”

“It provides slightly more effective clotting at wounds—”

“Do you admire SA-positive blood, Doctor?”

Julia stared at him. Mentally, she counted to ten. “I am fascinated by all types of blood,” she answered at last. “SA-positive clots faster… which is useful to stop bleeding but gives a slightly greater risk of stroke. Overall, I’d say the good points and the bad even out. If they didn’t, evolution would soon skew the population strongly one way or the other.”

McCarthy folded his hands on the table in front of him. “So you believe in evolution, Dr. Grant?”

“I’m a scientist. I also believe in gravity, thermodynamics, and the universal gas equation.”

Not a man on the Committee so much as smiled.

“Doctor,” McCarthy said quietly, “what blood type are you?”

She gritted her teeth. “The Supreme Court ruled that no one has to answer that question.”

In sudden fury, McCarthy slammed his fist onto the table. “Do you see the Supreme Court in here with us? Do you? Because if you do, show me those black-robed faggots and I’ll boot their pope-loving asses straight out the window.” He settled back in his chair. “I don’t think you appreciate the seriousness of your situation, Dr. Grant.”

“What situation?” she demanded. “I’m a medical researcher—”

“And you’ve developed a new drug, haven’t you?” McCarthy snapped. “A new drug. That you want to set loose on the public. I wonder if the person who invented heroin called herself a medical researcher too.”

“Mr. McCarthy, trisulphozymase is not a narcotic. It is a carefully developed pharmaceutical—”

“Which encourages miscegenation between Papists and the Redeemed,” McCarthy finished. “That’s what it does, doesn’t it, Doctor?”

“No!” She took a deep breath. “Trisulphozymase combats certain medical problems that occur when an SA-positive father and an SA-negative mother—”

“When a Papist man sires his filthy whelp on a Redeemed woman,” McCarthy interrupted. “When a Papist fucks one of the Saved. That’s what you want to encourage, Doctor? That’s how you’ll make the world a better place?”

Julia said nothing. She felt her cheeks burn like a child caught in some forbidden act; and she was infuriated that her reaction was guilt rather than outrage at what McCarthy was saying.

Yes, she wanted to say, it will make the world a better place to stop separating humanity into hostile camps. Most people on the planet had no comprehension of either Papist or Redeemed theology; but somehow the poisonous idea of blood discrimination had spread to every country of the globe, regardless of religious faith. Insanity! And millions recognized it to be so. Yet the McCarthys of the world found it a convenient ladder on which they could climb to power, and who was stopping them? Look at Germany. Look at Ireland. Look at India and Pakistan.

Ridiculous… and deadly, time and again throughout history. Perhaps she should set aside SA compatibility and work on a cure for the drive to demonize those who were different.

“A doctor deals with lives, not lifestyles,” she said stiffly. “If I was confronted with a patient whose heart had stopped beating, I would attempt to start it again, whether the victim was an innocent child, a convicted murderer, or even a senator.” She leaned forward. “Has anyone here ever seen an SA incompatibility reaction? How a newborn infant dies? How the mother goes into spasm and usually dies too? Real people, gentlemen; real screams of pain. Only a monster could witness such things and still rant about ideology.”

A few Committee members had the grace to look uncomfortable, turning away from her gaze; but McCarthy was not one of them. “You think this is all just ideology, Doctor? A lofty discussion of philosophical doctrine?” He shook his head in unconvincing sorrow. “I wish it were… I truly wish it were. I wish the Papists weren’t trying to rip down everything this country stands for, obeying the orders of their foreign masters to corrupt the spirit of liberty itself. Why should I care about a screaming woman, when she’s whored herself to the likes of them? She made her decision; now she has to face the consequences. No one in this room invented SA incompatibility, Doctor. God did… and I think we should take the hint, don’t you?”

The sharp catch of bile rose in Julia’s throat. For a moment, she couldn’t find the strength to fight it; but she couldn’t be sick, not in front of these men. Swallowing hard, she forced herself to breathe evenly until the moment passed. “Senators,” she said at last, “do you actually intend to suppress trisulphozymase? To withhold lifesaving treatment from those who need it?”

“Some might say it’s a sign,” McCarthy answered, “that a Redeemed man can father a child on a Papist without complications, but it doesn’t work the other way around. Doesn’t that sound like a sign to you?”

“Senators,” she said, ignoring McCarthy, “does this Committee intend to suppress trisulphozymase?”

Silence. Then McCarthy gave a little smile. “How does trisulphozymase work, Doctor?”

Julia stared at him, wondering where this new question was going. Warily, she replied, “The drug dismantles the SA factor enzyme into basic amino acids. This prevents a more dangerous response from the mother’s immune system, which might otherwise produce antibodies to the enzyme. The antibodies are the real problem, because they may attack the baby’s—”