Banquets Of The Black Widowers - By Isaac Asimov Page 0,39
them - on my doctor's prescription. I was frankly skeptical, but they helped me tremendously and I persuaded my doctor to prescribe them for me in bottles of a thousand. Every Sunday morning, I put twenty - eight into my original vial, which I carry with me everywhere and at all times and which I still use. I know at all times how much I should have - right now, I should have four left, having just taken the twenty - fourth of the week, and I do. In three years, I've missed a pill only twice."
"I," said Rubin, loftily, "have not yet reached that pitch of senility that requires any mnemonic devices at all."
"No?" asked Mario Gonzalo, spearing his last bit of baba au rhum. "What pitch of senility have you reached?"
Roger Halsted, who was hosting the banquet that night, forestalled Rubin's rejoinder by saying, hastily, "There's an interesting point to be made here. As increasing numbers of people pump themselves full of chemicals, there must be fewer and fewer people with untampered tissue chemistry."
"None at all," growled Thomas Trumbull. "The food we eat is loaded with additives. The water we drink has purifying chemicals. The air we breathe is half pollution of one sort or another. If you could analyze an individual's blood carefully enough, you could probably tell where he lived, what he eats, what medicines he takes."
Smith nodded. His short hair exposed prominent ears, something Gonzalo had taken full advantage of in preparing his caricature of the evening's guest. Now Smith rubbed one of them thoughtfully, and said, "Maybe you could file everyone's detailed blood pattern in some computer bank. Then if all else fails, your blood would be your identification. The pattern would be entered into the computer which would compare it with all those in its memory files and, within a minute, words would flash across a screen saying, The man you have here is John Smith of Fairfield, Connecticut,' and I would stand up and bow."
Trumbull said, "If you could stand up and bow, you could stand up and identify yourself. Why bother with a blood pattern?"
"Oh, yes?" said Smith, grimly.
Halsted said, "Listen, let's not get involved in this. Henry is distributing the brandy and it's past time for the grilling. Jeff, will you assume the task?"
"I will be glad to," said Avalon in his most solemn tone.
Bending his fierce and graying eyebrows over his eyes, Avalon said, with incongruous mildness, "And just how do you justify your existence, Mr. Smith?"
"Well," said Smith, cheerfully, "I inherited a going business. I did well with it, sold it profitably, invested wisely, and now live in early retirement in a posh place in Fairfield - a widower with two grown children, each on his own. I toil not, neither do I spin and, like the lilies of the field, my justification is my beauty and the way it illuminates the landscape." A grin of self - mockery crossed his pleasantly ugly face.
Avalon said, indulgently, "I suppose we can pass that. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Your name is John Smith?"
"And I can prove it," said Smith quickly. "Name your poison. I have my card, a driver's license, a variety of credit cards, some personal letters addressed to me, a library card, and so on."
"I am perfectly willing to accept your word, sir, but it occurs to me that with a name like John Smith you must frequently encounter some signs of cynical disbelief - from hotel clerks, for instance. Do you have a middle initial?"
"No, sir, I am the real thing. My parents felt that any modification of the grand cliche would spoil the grandeur. I won't deny that there haven't been times when I've longed to say my name was Eustace Bartholomew Wasservogel, but the feeling passes. Of the Smiths I am, and of that tribe - variety, John - I remain."
Avalon cleared his throat portentously and said, "And yet, Mr. Smith, I feel you have reason to feel annoyance at your name. You reacted to Tom's suggestion that you could merely announce your name and make the blood identification unnecessary with a clear tone of annoyance. Have you had some special occasion of late when you failed to identify yourself?"
Trumbull said, "Let me guess that you did. Your eagerness to demonstrate your ability to prove your identity would show that some past failure to do so rankles."
Smith stared around the table in astonishment, "Good God, does it show that much?"