Radek sipped his beer. He'd been drinking slowly, and the beer had gotten warmer than he liked, but he needed a clear head. "That's common knowledge," he stated. "The lifespan hasn't been shortened any, either."
"Because of more medicines ... more ways to help cells patch up radiation damage. All but worst radiation sickness been curable for a long time." Barwell waved his hand expansively. "They knew, even back then," he mumbled. "If radiation shortens life, radiation sickness cures ought to prolong it. Huh? Reas'nable? Only the goddam scientists ... population problem ... social stasis if ever'body lived for centuries ... kept it secret. Easy t' do. Change y'r name and face ever' ten, twen'y years—keep to y'rself, don't make friends among the short-lived, you might see 'em grow old and die, might start feelin' sorry for 'em an' that would never do, would it—?"
Coldness tingled along Radek's spine. He lifted his mug and pretended to drink. Over the rim, his eyes stayed on Barwell.
"Tha's why they fired me. I know. I know. I got ears. I overheard things. I read ... notes not inten'ed for me. They fired me. 'S a wonder they didn' murder me." Barwell shuddered and peered at the curtains, as if trying to look through them. "Or d'y' think—maybe—"
"No," said Radek. "I don't. Let's stick to the facts. I take it you found mention of work on—shall we say—increasing the lifespan. Perhaps a mention of successes with rats and guinea pigs. Right? So what's wrong with that? They wouldn't want to announce anything till they were sure, or the hysteria—"
Barwell smiled with an irritating air of omniscience. "More'n that, friend. More'n that. Lots more."
"Well, what?"
Barwell peered about him with exaggerated caution. "One thing I found in files ... plans of whole buildin's an' groun's—great, great big room, lotsa rooms, way way underground. Secret. Only th' kitchen was makin' food an' sendin' it down there—human food. Food for people I never saw, people who never came up—" Barwell buried his face in his hands. "Don' feel so good. Whirlin'—"
Radek eased his head to the table. Out like a spent credit. The newsman left the booth and addressed a bouncer. "Chap in there has had it."
"Uh-huh. Want me to help you get him to your boat?"