The Divide Read Online Free PDF

growth regulators, human hormones Dr. Kyriakides had isolated under a classified government grant. The purpose of the research was to produce a superior human being, specifically in the neocortical functions—the most highly evolved functions, such as intelligence.
    John’s smile was fixed. “ ”Highly evolved‘—sounds like Max. He told you all this?“
    “At greater length. And with more breastbeating.”
    “He does feel guilty.”
    “I have the impression he always did.”
    “Did he mention that his ”government grant‘ was by way of a client operation of the CIA? That his name came up twice in the Church Committee hearings?“
    “Yes. He says they were funding everything in those days— LSD at McGill, exotic botany at Harvard. Postwar insanity.”
    “Did he also mention that he was the closest thing to a father I had for the first several years of my life?”
    “Something like that.”
    “And that he farmed me out for adoption when the project was closed down?”
    “He didn’t have a choice.”
    “But now he wants to talk… because he thinks I’m dying.”
    “I should never have said that! I’m sorry—I just wanted to get your attention.”
    “But it’s possible?”
    “The animal studies have been mixed,” Susan admitted.
    “Some animals have died.”
    She looked at the table. “Yes.”
    The tempura arrived then. Susan picked at hers. It was good, but she’d lost her appetite.
    John ate vigorously.
     
     
    When the check arrived Susan used her credit card and filed away the customer copy. John said, “Are you up to walking a little?”
    She nodded.
    “It’s a good day for it. Autumn is the best time of year in this city.” He stood up and pulled his windbreaker over his T-shirt. “I don’t get many afternoons like this.”
    They rode the College streetcar west to Augusta. The day was cool but endlessly sunny, the sky a shade of blue you never saw in LA. When the streetcar stopped, John climbed down through the rattling mid-car doors and offered her his hand. How dry his skin is, Susan thought… and then scolded herself for thinking it. He wasn’t an animal, after all.
    He led her south through a maze of ethnic markets, fish stalls, vegetable bins, used-clothing outlets. This was Kensington Market, John said, and it was his favorite part of the city.
    It was also crowded and more than a little bewildering—no two signs in the same language—but Susan felt some of the carnival atmosphere, maybe picking it up from John. He took her to a café, a sidewalk table under an umbrella and far enough from the fish stalls that the air was tolerable. He ordered two cups of fierce cappucino. “Legal drugs.” Smiled at her. She sipped the coffee. He said, “Well, maybe I am dying.”
    Her cup rattled against the saucer. “Do you always have these two-track conversations?”
    “You mean, is this a manifestation of my superhuman intellect? Or just an annoying habit?”
    “No, I don’t mean that. I mean—well, if you don’t want to talk about it—”
    “Max must have warned you, surely? John the monster.” He startled her by closing his eyes. “You’re wearing Levis and a brown sweater with a checked collar showing at the neck. You have brown hair, blue eyes, a mole under your right cheekbone and another one just under your ear. You have both hands on the table; the nail is chipped on your left index finger. You don’t wear nail polish. The building behind you is catching the sunlight; it has twenty-eight rectangular windows facing the street and a revolving door with a mango cart parked on the sidewalk in front of it. The cart vendor is wearing a yellow plaid shirt and a black beret. A grey Nissan Stanza just drove past, southbound—it should be at the intersection by now.” He opened his eyes and stared at her. “You come from Southern California and you’re timid with people. You have an exaggerated respect for Dr. Kyriakides—take my word for it—and some unresolved