He walked over to a nearby shelf, pulled out a large plastic container, and placed it on the worktable. “Once I had achieved the proper temperature for moonlight, I had to simulate the effect of how the sun’s photons would react when they pass through the moon’s ‘dust atmosphere,’ bounce off the surface, and pass through the dust a second time on their way to the earth. This meant, first, researching the specific chemical nature of moon dust—which has been well documented by NASA—and then applying the precise filters to re-create it.”
Swinging back the barn doors on the Fresnel, he opened the plastic container, removed a thin circular plate of pale glass, and fitted it to the front of the lens. He did this a second time, and then a third time, adding additional filters. Then he turned back to Logan. “This re-creates moonlight, as filtered through the dust atmosphere of the moon, as it would have been seen all over the earth five hundred years ago.”
“Why five hundred years?” Logan asked.
“Because our atmosphere, Dr. Logan, has—over the last few centuries—become saturated with the burn-off of fossil fuels, greenhouse gases, what have you.”
“In other words, the effect you hypothesize would have been much stronger in the past than it is today.”
“Exactly: hence the many more eyewitness accounts of strange or unexplained behavior in early documents concerning the full moon. Now, please observe. I’m going to reproduce the effect of that same full moon.” Walking over to the far wall, he picked up one of the animal cages, brought it over, and placed it on the table. “Northern short-tailed shrews,” he explained. Then, reaching under the worktable, he pulled out a pair of heavy rubber gloves and put them on. “They’re venomous,” he went on, “but perfect mammals for our study.” He opened the cage, reached inside, and pulled out first one, then another, of the guinea-pig-sized creatures, covered with soft gray fur. They sat on the table, sleepy and docile, evidently newly awakened.
“Now, watch carefully,” Feverbridge said as he pulled the light stand back from the table and stood directly behind it.
“Don’t look at the light,” Laura Feverbridge warned, speaking for the first time since her father had begun his explanation. “Just the shrews.”
She walked over to the wall and snapped off the overhead. Immediately, the room was plunged into darkness. A moment later, there was another snap, and the Fresnel came on, its spotlight aimed at the creatures on the worktable. The light, Logan noticed, was low, and of a pale, almost ghostly yellow—exactly like moonlight.
At first, nothing happened. Then the creatures began to show signs of restlessness. Within moments, this had turned to irritability. They began squabbling, emitting low squeaks and circling each other warily. Abruptly, one lunged at the other, which batted back with both sets of foreclaws.
Very quickly, Dr. Feverbridge turned off the Fresnel. At the same time, Laura snapped the overhead light back on. Immediately, the creatures returned to their docile state.
“Well?” Feverbridge said as he returned the creatures to their cage, then replaced it on the shelf.
“I—” Logan did not quite know what to say. It was all so unusual, so different from what he’d expected. Dr. Feverbridge and his daughter, he realized, were right: this was groundbreaking research—perhaps even revolutionary.
“You can reproduce this behavior at will?” he asked.
“On almost all occasions, yes. So far, we’ve only employed a variety of small mammals for our tests. I could repeat the procedure on a different species, if you wish—white mice, hooded rats, voles—but the result would be the same: marked deviation from normal behavior patterns.”
“Why does this particular light affect the brain so strongly?” Logan asked.
“Remember the question I asked about early hominids? My belief is that it is an evolutionary development that’s taken place over hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions, of years. Diurnal animals sleep at night to hide from predators, and the danger would be highest on the night of the full moon. It’s become hardwired into us. Subconsciously, the special quality of this light raises hormonal levels to a fever pitch. Adrenaline is dumped into the bloodstream; flight-or-fight behavior is triggered. Some creatures may flee. Others—like these shrews—become uncharacteristically aggressive…very aggressive. My own analysis shows that over the millennia, as our natural predators have died off, the aggressive behavior has become the norm.”
“And if our atmosphere was to clear of smog and particulate matter? Would these deviant behaviors return when the moon is full—return to human beings, I mean?”
“Yes. Yes, I believe they would—depending, I suppose, on the person’s physical and emotional makeup.”
Logan tried to organize his thoughts; tried to process what he had just observed. “Kevin Pace, and the late Mr. Artowsky,” he said. “Do they know about this?”
“Only indirectly. They are acting—were acting, in the case of poor Mark—as controls, studying the same creatures we are studying, but under normal atmospheric and environmental conditions.”
Feverbridge turned away for a moment. When he turned back, the lighthearted, didactic mood was gone and anguish was suddenly in his eyes. “Do you understand the problem now, Dr. Logan? My theories have already been ridiculed to a degree that I can no longer live with. What would they say if I released additional findings? I can see the taunting headlines now: ‘Scientist claims space dust causes madness.’ I couldn’t bear that.” The anguish on his face spiked. “I wouldn’t.”
“That’s why we need to be as thorough as possible in completing the research,” Laura Feverbridge said. She spoke in a calm, soothing voice. “Document everything. Continue as we have been, carefully, comprehensively. Amass sufficient evidence to pass any peer review they could throw at us. We’re close now, Father. All we need is time. That is…if Dr. Logan will give it to us.”
And with this, she fell silent. Both of them—father and daughter—looked at Logan.
Logan took a deep breath. This was clearly cutting-edge research. If it was halted prematurely, the world would be the poorer for it. And the world would also surely lose a brilliant scientist.
“Just give us a little time,” Laura said, almost pleadingly. Coming forward, she gripped his sleeve again. “Time to finish our work. Then you can do whatever your conscience tells you.”
Logan glanced from one to the other. He now realized something that had not occurred to him before: it was quite possible that the nature of this work could shed some light on the murders Jessup was trying so desperately to solve.
“I won’t speak of this to anyone,” he said in a low voice. “At least, not until the work is complete. It may help identify what’s been going on out there in the woods. Meanwhile, if there’s a way I can help you, I will.”
For a long moment, the building was silent. Then Chase Feverbridge smiled faintly, nodded. Laura released her hold on his sleeve and took his hand in both of hers.
“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you—for both of us.”
21