screen above the cage was illuminated with a green glow. He pressed another button, and a wavy black line began to undulate across the screen; it might have been the path of a bouncing rubber ball.
“That is the lambda reading of the buck.” He pressed another button; a second, white line appeared, this one achieving higher peaks than the first. “That is the doe’s.”
“I don’t quite understand. What is it measuring?”
“The life field of the rabbits. Those small red objects were tiny lambda meters. They not only measure the intensity of the animal’s life field; they also emit a radio signal, which is picked up and amplified on this screen. What do you notice about these two signals?”
Carlsen stared at the wavering lines. “They seem to run more or less parallel.”
“Precisely. You notice an interesting kind of counterpoint — here, and here.” He pointed. “You have heard the phrase. ‘Two hearts beating as one.’ This shows that it is more than a piece of literary sentimentality.”
Carlsen said: “Let me make sure I understand you. You’ve planted these tiny red bugging devices inside the rabbits, and we’re now watching their heartbeats?”
“No, no. Not their heartbeats. The pulse of the life force in them. You could say that these creatures are in perfect sympathy. They can sense one another’s moods.”
“Telepathy?”
“Yes, a kind of telepathy. Now observe this doe.” He moved to the next cage, in which a solitary rabbit was listlessly gnawing a cabbage leaf. He switched on the monitor above the cage. The white line appeared, but this time it had fewer peaks, and its movement seemed sluggish.
“The doe is on her own, and she is probably bored. So her lambda reading is much lower.”
“In other words, their lambda reading is increased by the intensity of their sex drive?”
“Quite. And you ask if the meters are placed near the hearts. No. They are placed close to the sexual organs.”
“Interesting.”
Falladt smiled. “It is more interesting than you realise. You see” — he switched off the monitor — “not only does the rabbit’s life field intensify when it is in a state of sexual excitement. As you can see, their life fields interact. And I will tell you another interesting thing. At the moment, as you see, the buck’s field is weaker than the doe’s. That is because the doe is in heat. But when the buck mounts the doe, its life field becomes stronger than the doe’s. And now the doe’s peaks move in obedience to the buck’s, instead of vice versa.” Fallada laid a hand on his arm. “Now I am going to show you something else.” He led the way to the far end of the room, to a bench that contained only glass tanks. He rapped on the side of one of these. A small octopus, whose total width was about eighteen inches, started up from the rocks at the bottom of the tank and glided gracefully towards the surface, turning gently with a movement that made it resemble drifting smoke. Fallada pointed. “If you look carefully, you can see where we have planted the meter.” He switched on the monitor above the tank; the line that appeared had a slow, undulatory motion, without the sharp peaks that characterised the rabbits’ graph.
Fallada moved to the next tank. “This is a moray eel, one of the most unpleasant creatures in the sea. They regard the Mediterranean octopus as a rare delicacy.” Carlsen peered in at the devilish face that looked out from a gap between rocks; the mouth was open, showing rows of needle-sharp teeth. “This one is hungry — he hasn’t been fed for several days.” He switched on the monitor; the graph of the eel was also sluggish, but it had a surging forward motion that suggested reserves of power. Fallada said: “I am going to introduce the moray into the octopus’s tank.”
Carlsen grimaced. “Is that necessary? Couldn’t you just tell me what happens?”
Fallada chuckled. “I could, but it wouldn’t convey much.” He
“That is the lambda reading of the buck.” He pressed another button; a second, white line appeared, this one achieving higher peaks than the first. “That is the doe’s.”
“I don’t quite understand. What is it measuring?”
“The life field of the rabbits. Those small red objects were tiny lambda meters. They not only measure the intensity of the animal’s life field; they also emit a radio signal, which is picked up and amplified on this screen. What do you notice about these two signals?”
Carlsen stared at the wavering lines. “They seem to run more or less parallel.”
“Precisely. You notice an interesting kind of counterpoint — here, and here.” He pointed. “You have heard the phrase. ‘Two hearts beating as one.’ This shows that it is more than a piece of literary sentimentality.”
Carlsen said: “Let me make sure I understand you. You’ve planted these tiny red bugging devices inside the rabbits, and we’re now watching their heartbeats?”
“No, no. Not their heartbeats. The pulse of the life force in them. You could say that these creatures are in perfect sympathy. They can sense one another’s moods.”
“Telepathy?”
“Yes, a kind of telepathy. Now observe this doe.” He moved to the next cage, in which a solitary rabbit was listlessly gnawing a cabbage leaf. He switched on the monitor above the cage. The white line appeared, but this time it had fewer peaks, and its movement seemed sluggish.
“The doe is on her own, and she is probably bored. So her lambda reading is much lower.”
“In other words, their lambda reading is increased by the intensity of their sex drive?”
“Quite. And you ask if the meters are placed near the hearts. No. They are placed close to the sexual organs.”
“Interesting.”
Falladt smiled. “It is more interesting than you realise. You see” — he switched off the monitor — “not only does the rabbit’s life field intensify when it is in a state of sexual excitement. As you can see, their life fields interact. And I will tell you another interesting thing. At the moment, as you see, the buck’s field is weaker than the doe’s. That is because the doe is in heat. But when the buck mounts the doe, its life field becomes stronger than the doe’s. And now the doe’s peaks move in obedience to the buck’s, instead of vice versa.” Fallada laid a hand on his arm. “Now I am going to show you something else.” He led the way to the far end of the room, to a bench that contained only glass tanks. He rapped on the side of one of these. A small octopus, whose total width was about eighteen inches, started up from the rocks at the bottom of the tank and glided gracefully towards the surface, turning gently with a movement that made it resemble drifting smoke. Fallada pointed. “If you look carefully, you can see where we have planted the meter.” He switched on the monitor above the tank; the line that appeared had a slow, undulatory motion, without the sharp peaks that characterised the rabbits’ graph.
Fallada moved to the next tank. “This is a moray eel, one of the most unpleasant creatures in the sea. They regard the Mediterranean octopus as a rare delicacy.” Carlsen peered in at the devilish face that looked out from a gap between rocks; the mouth was open, showing rows of needle-sharp teeth. “This one is hungry — he hasn’t been fed for several days.” He switched on the monitor; the graph of the eel was also sluggish, but it had a surging forward motion that suggested reserves of power. Fallada said: “I am going to introduce the moray into the octopus’s tank.”
Carlsen grimaced. “Is that necessary? Couldn’t you just tell me what happens?”
Fallada chuckled. “I could, but it wouldn’t convey much.” He
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