Metzger's Dog Read Free

statistics. What interested Morrison was a speculation that it was possible to identify and isolate certain intangible ideas peculiar to a culture, assign them numerical values, and work out which ones cause people to behave irrationally. The Jalisco famine was by then a standard problem in the field: In the middle of the summer of 1946, when the crops were growing well in the fields, the weather was perfect, and no trouble was in sight, the rumor of a famine swept through Jalisco, causing twenty thousand small farmers to abandon their farms and flee the area. Because they did that, the crops failed, thousands starved, and the famine rumor came true.
    Ian Donahue, an unknown and unpromising Assistant Professor, had hit upon an idea that had stimulated Morrison’s imagination. If cultural fears could be assigned numerical values in retrospect in this single instance, they could be assigned numerical values in the present. If Donahue could explain past behavior, his formulae could also predict future behavior. Morrison perceived, if some others didn’t, that if the quantities were known they could also be adjusted. If they could be adjusted, mass action could not only be predicted, it could also be precipitated. Morrison knew a number of people who would be very interested in Donahue’s research.
    That had been the real beginning of Donahue’s career, a string of successes that had stretched over twenty some years. The complex of offices assigned to Ian Donahue in the Social Sciences Building was larger and more lavish than the offices of the whole Sociology Department.
             
    M ORRISON SAT IN THE CHAIR that looked out over the campus, the trees and lawns like a tiny park inserted in the midst of the sprawling, grayish city. “It’s already November, Ian,” he said. “In Washington it’s November, anyway. Here it always seems to be August.”
    “I know,” said Donahue. “I’ll have the final draft of the report to you by December first. I promise. It’ll be on your desk before Thanksgiving if there are no surprises.”
    “The report is not why I came here,” said Morrison, his hand raised. “I had to come through to talk to somebody at USC, and I thought it would be a good time to see you. It’ll also give me a chance to fill in another on-site visit.”
    Donahue nodded. He’d read in the newspaper a few days before that one of the Congressional committees was examining travel expenses of government officials. Even a man like Morrison must have to make every trip look as full of business as possible.
    Morrison said, “The big thing, though, is that the Latin America grant is going to terminate on January one. I wondered what you had in mind after that.”
    Donahue shrugged. “The usual. As I said, the final report will be in a month early. Apply for a renewal. We’re in a very productive phase right now; I don’t think you’ll be in doubt when you see the paperwork.”
    “I know you’re right, Ian, but I don’t think you understood what I said. It isn’t just your grant that terminates in January. It’s the whole project, the Latin America Outreach. Over a week ago the House subcommittee on Science and Technology let the request for continuation die.”
    “But that always happens!” said Donahue. “The administration always calls in a few favors and the money comes through. You told me that years ago.”
    Morrison stared out the window and shook his head. “Not this time,” he said. “I’ve checked. This time the administration isn’t going to pursue it. They’ve decided to change the emphasis to Africa for the moment.”
    “Damn! So that’s it. Now I know who you saw at USC. It’s that pompous fool Graham Baker, isn’t it?”
    Morrison said nothing, only stared out over the trees toward the distant freeway.
    “I see,” said Donahue. “It’s because he’s younger than I am, isn’t it?”
    “No, Ian, of course not. You know that age nonsense only happens in chemistry