The Love Potion Murders in the Museum of Man by Alfred Alcorn Page B

psychologically where the latter applies of the organism in any experiment.”
    Father O’Gould nodded. “The question is one of stewardship. We need always balance the mercy due our fellow creature with the mercy due our fellow man …”
    “And woman,” Ms. Brattle interjected.
    Ms. Schanke, visibly agitated, burst forth: “What you’re both really saying in fancy language is that it’s all right for us so-called human beings to torture other animals, even those that share ninety-eight percent of our DNA, so that booze-swilling men don’t have to suffer hangovers …”
    “Even sinners deserve mercy,” Father O’Gould said gently.
    “…  and so that big price-gouging companies like Pyramed can make billions in profit …”
    “We don’t torture animals,” I replied coolly.
    “I think inducing fellow creatures to drink alcohol to excess could be called torture,” said Ms. Brattle, the expert on blame.
    “What did you give him to drink?” asked Izzy.
    “Vodka in orange juice.”
    “And you don’t call that torture?” Ms. Schanke demanded.
    Ms. Doveen, an unexpected ally, turned to Ms. Schanke and asked, “How do you know? Maybe he liked getting high. I mean all they do is sit around all day like prisoners.”
    “Well,” I said, correcting her gently, “we do have an exercise yard where they spend considerable time together.”
    “How do you keep them from breeding?” Professor Athol asked.
    “The females are fixed,” I replied, without thinking. “With the exception of one or two that are on special medication.”
    “You spayed them?” Ms. Schanke asked with outraged incredulity.
    “Yes.”
    “Without their permission?”
    I shook my head, wondering what Alice in Wonderland realm I had stumbled into.
    “Why didn’t you fix the males instead?” Ms. Brattle joined in, sensing blood.
    “We followed the recommendations of a respected consultant.”
    “A man, no doubt,” said Ms. Schanke.
    I ignored her and said something to the effect that the committee might be interested to learn that the museum had had in place for some time a deacquisition program regarding the chimps.
    Which opened me up for another round of abuse led by Ms. Schanke. “Right, right. Now that the lab is finished torturing the poor beasts, you’re going to get rid of them.”
    I explained in detail how we were placing and repatriating the chimps in the most humane way possible. What I could not admit to before the committee right then is the fact that I have profound misgivings myself about any kind of experimentation on animals, however humble their rank on the evolutionary ladder. I am privately very embarrassed by what happened to Bert during the trials for ReLease. Indeed the treatment of our animals is one area in the Genetics Lab where I am stickler for protocol.
    The fact is that under Elsbeth’s gentle suasion, I have become far more sensitive to the rights and sufferings of our fellow creatures. We regularly have several “vegetarian” days a week now. But right then was not the time for a soul-baring confession.
    As though sensing my thoughts, Father O’Gould held forth that the time had come in the moral evolution of our species to consider the possibility of moving beyond the use of animals for our food and fiber needs.
    Near the end of the meeting Ms. Brattle announced thatearly next week there would be an executive session of the Subcommittee on Appropriateness regarding a very sensitive case that had arisen between two employees in Sigmund Library, which serves the Psychology Department. The subcommittee, on which I serve — another gesture of goodwill — investigates and arbitrates on sensitive issues dealing with ethnic, gender, dietary, class, language, olfactory, and sexual orientation conflicts arising among students, faculty, and members of the administration.
    The meeting concluded in a muddle of inaction, good intentions, and declarative excess, the way most such meetings end. I