Splinter

11

It was a mistake. Marc knew he shouldn’t have let himself be talked into it, but he thought that submitting to the preliminary examinations and just never coming back would be easier than entering into a long discussion with Bleibtreu about the pros and cons of his wholly unacceptable experiment.

That was why he had only pretended to agree to be examined for any physical or mental condition that might preclude him from taking part.

Who knows, perhaps you won’t prove to be a suitable subject after all, had been Bleibtreu’s final argument.

An undetected mental illness, a serious infection or a weak heart would render him useless as a guinea pig. Even his rare blood group, AB negative, was something of a problem.

Another two and a half long hours elapsed before the Maybach dropped him outside his rented service flat in Schöneberg. A hundred and fifty minutes during which they’d taken his blood, tired him out on various pieces of gym equipment for an ECG, and electroencephalographed his brainwaves for abnormalities. He’d felt like a national service recruit when a GP asked him for a urine sample and checked his heart-lung functions while he was waiting for the oculist to test his eyesight.

The doctors had shown no interest in the fact that many of these examinations had been carried out by his father-in-law only a few weeks earlier. The Bleibtreu Clinic was unwilling to rely on extraneous data, so he’d even had to undergo more CT and MRI scans.

But most of the time had been taken up with ingenious psychological questions. Unlike the personality tests in women’s magazines, which Sandra had always been so fond of, those seemingly innocuous questions had left Marc wondering what on earth their purpose could be.

If you had the choice, which would you rather do without, one eye or your sense of smell?

Which do you dream in more often, colour or black and white?

Complete the following sentence: ‘I’m in favour of the death penalty for…’

Marc had already forgotten what answers he’d given, he was so exhausted. Besides, his joints ached with every step he took. All he could think of was the sleeping pill and the hot bath he would soon be taking. He was so engrossed in his thoughts, it was no wonder he failed to see the dark figure lurking beside the entrance to the flats, where it had been waiting for him for a considerable time.