The Road to Wellville Read Free Page B

the men leaning forward in their seats for a better look, the women smiling secret smiles, the Doctor, as ever, conscious of his control, his benevolence, his wisdom—shepherd to his flock. “And would you describe for us what you see in the first exhibit, my dear?”
    “Um, it’s black—or no, now I see …”
    “Yes?”
    “Tiny things. Moving. Like, like bits of straw or rice—only alive.”
    “Good, very good, Miss Muntz. Those are bacteria”—the Doctor turned to face the audience now—“and they are truncated, like bits of rice, as you say, because they are unfriendly bacteria, the B.
welchii, B. coli
and
Proteus vulgaris
we so often find in the stool of our incoming patients here at the Sanitarium. And could you accurately count the bacteria for us, Miss Muntz?”
    She turned her head now, looking up at him out of a bright crystalline eye, and gave a little cry of surprise. “Oh, no, Doctor—there are so many hundreds and hundreds of them.”
    “And now, Miss Muntz, would you do us the great favor of examining the sample beneath the second microscope?”
    A flutter of skirts, a quick reassuring touch-up of the coiffure and millinery, and Miss Muntz was bent over the second microscope.
    “Would you describe what you see now, Miss Muntz?”
    “Yes, Doctor, it’s … it’s much the same thing—”
    The audience breathed out, a ripple that became a tidal wave.
    “And could you count the bacteria in this sample?”
    “Oh, no, Doctor—”
    “But would you say that there are fewer or more than in the first sample?”
    Her eye still affixed to the aperture of the lens, Miss Muntz tugged unconsciously at a loose strand of hair and let her voice drop reflectively. “This one is, is more cluttered. A lot more.”
    “Would you say there were half as many more in this sample?”
    “Oh, yes,” Miss Muntz breathed, taking her eye from the lens and straightening up to face the Doctor and the crowd ranged myopically behind him. “Yes, at least, Doctor—at least half as many more….”
    “Very good. And now, Dr. Linniman, would you please reveal to the audience the identity of each of these slides?”
    Frank’s face was perfectly composed—wonderful, wonderful, thought the Doctor, a rush of triumph building in him.
How he loved this life!
“The first slide—”
    “Yes?”
    “—this is the sample from the livery stable.”
    At this, the audience erupted. There were hoots of laughter, cries of surprise and wonderment, and finally a sustained applause that echoed through the Grand Parlor like the steady wash of sea on shingle. It was a long moment before the Doctor, beaming and with both hands uplifted, was able to calm them. “I urge you,” he called out above the dying clamor, “to step up individually once we’re done here tonight, and confirm for yourselves Miss Muntz’s observations. And thank you, Miss Muntz—you may step down now—and thank you, Dr. Linniman.”
    A moment drifted by, the crowd still abuzz, as Dr. Linniman helped the young lady from the stage, saw her to her seat and himself found a place in the front row. The Doctor could feel the pulse of the audience declining ever so slightly from the peak to which he’d brought it, and he knew now that they were vulnerable, putty in his hands: it was time for the pièce de résistance. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he cried, “I thank you for your attention. I’ll let you draw your own conclusions from what you’ve just seen,” he added slyly, “but we have a problem here … what to do with Mr. Post’s porterhouse steak.” He held up a hand to silence the incipient laughter. “I propose a second small illustration of the Sanitarium’s principles….” Dr. Kellogg again looked pointedly to the rear of the auditorium. Those in front began to crane their necks. “Is Dr. Distaso ready?”
    A gruff, French-accented bark of assent rose from the back of the room, and there was Dr. Distaso, the distinguished bacteriologist Dr.