The Rosie Effect
Page 58
‘Incorrect. Rosie wants you to leave, hence I am required to ask you to leave. The best solution is that you return to Claudia, but you can’t until we solve the Carl problem.’
‘Apologise to Rosie on my behalf. I’m working on somewhere to live. I’d give anything to sort out the situation with Carl, but I can’t change the past.’
‘We’re scientists,’ I reminded him. ‘We shouldn’t be defeated by problems. If we think hard enough, a solution will present itself.’
22
The Lesbian Mothers Project protocols were straightforward to review. The obvious limitation was the absence of a control group of heterosexual couples or unrelated adults.
‘There were no same-sex couples in the original study,’ B2 said.
I had been instructed by B1 to conduct all liaisons with the team via B2 who had recently completed her PhD. ‘That was an exploratory study,’ I said.
‘This is an exploratory study, too. We’re entitled to equal consideration.’
My police clearance had come through, presumably because Margarita Cop was still holding my report, pending advice from Lydia, and I was now permitted to observe the experiments.
The B Team had constructed a small living room with sofa and armchairs. The protocol was trivially simple: B3, the nurse, took a sample of oxytocin from the baby; then one of the baby’s carers cuddled the baby. B3 then took another sample. At a later time, the carer would return and repeat the exercise, except that this time she would play with the baby rather than cuddling it. Then the experiment would be repeated with the second mother.
‘What are the early results?’ I asked B1.
‘You of all people should know that it’s inappropriate to draw conclusions based on early raw data. Don’t you have mice to dissect? Seriously, we’ve got a women’s group visiting this afternoon and it’d be nice if you weren’t hanging around.’
B3 had been watching. ‘Can I buy you a coffee?’ she said.
‘It’s 3.13 p.m. Caffeine has a half-life—’
She turned, but intercepted me again outside the front door. ‘You want to know what the early data is saying? I’ll meet you at the café.’
Secrets, secrets, secrets. Rosie didn’t know why I was working on the project. She didn’t know about the Playground Incident, Lydia, and the Good Fathers Evaluation. Gene had deceived Claudia for years. Now B3 was sharing data that B1 would not. Once, there had been no secrets in my life. And my relationships, albeit few, had not been in danger. I suspected a correlation.
‘I’m taking the samples and I have to key in all the results,’ said B3. ‘The first job’s because I’m a nurse. So’s the second. So’s getting the coffee, for that matter. But you don’t need a PhD to see what’s happening. The oxytocin goes up with cuddling, doesn’t move with play. For either mother. Looks like only fathers can make the play thing happen. They’re changing the way they do the play so it’s more like cuddling. Not when you’re around, of course. They’ll find a reason to dump the early results.’
I walked back with B3.
‘Maybe come back tomorrow,’ she said. ‘Briony’s a bit edgy.’ B1.
In a social situation, I would have taken the subtle hint that I was not wanted. But this was science. Sometimes it is convenient to be immune to subtlety.
When I returned, a group of thirteen women was being greeted. B1 and B2 ignored me, but one of the women (age approximately sixty-five, BMI twenty-six) approached me directly.
‘Are you the token male?’ She laughed.
I used David Borenstein’s words. ‘I’ve been assigned by the Dean to ensure that the research is not influenced by lesbian politics.’
She laughed again. I detected friendliness. ‘What did you do to earn that job? Sleep with the Dean’s daughter?’
B1 interrupted and pointed to a woman with a baby beside her in a mid-quality pram. ‘When the baby wakes up, this woman is going to play with her baby, and we’re going to measure the baby’s oxytocin. She’s the non-gestational mother, and we’re finding that the baby’s oxytocin rises when she plays with the baby. Just as it did for fathers in the Israeli study.’
I added, ‘In the Israeli study there was no control group of unrelated males or females, so there is no evidence that the men and women had to be parents or carers in order to raise the oxytocin levels.’
B1 looked at me in a way that Rosie would look at someone if she meant ‘Shut the fuck up’. I suspected the meaning was the same. But the situation was not. Science is about honesty and transparency.
Friendly Woman asked, ‘What would happen to the baby’s oxytocin if an unrelated man or woman played with it?’
‘Exactly!’ I said.
B1 interrupted. ‘It’s not part of the study. And we can’t have strange men coming in here and touching the babies.’
The baby in the pram began crying. I had to act quickly before any cuddling or play process commenced. I ran over to the pram.
‘Is it all right if I play with your baby?’ I asked the mother. ‘I’m a member of the research team and I am approved by the police for baby handling.’
‘I guess.’ She smiled. ‘I thought it was going to be me, but sure. If you don’t upset him.’
I had no idea about how a baby might react to a large adult male. I had never handled one, except possibly my brother. I had a vague recollection of my mother giving Trevor to me to hold, and of handing him back to her as quickly as possible.
‘Apologise to Rosie on my behalf. I’m working on somewhere to live. I’d give anything to sort out the situation with Carl, but I can’t change the past.’
‘We’re scientists,’ I reminded him. ‘We shouldn’t be defeated by problems. If we think hard enough, a solution will present itself.’
22
The Lesbian Mothers Project protocols were straightforward to review. The obvious limitation was the absence of a control group of heterosexual couples or unrelated adults.
‘There were no same-sex couples in the original study,’ B2 said.
I had been instructed by B1 to conduct all liaisons with the team via B2 who had recently completed her PhD. ‘That was an exploratory study,’ I said.
‘This is an exploratory study, too. We’re entitled to equal consideration.’
My police clearance had come through, presumably because Margarita Cop was still holding my report, pending advice from Lydia, and I was now permitted to observe the experiments.
The B Team had constructed a small living room with sofa and armchairs. The protocol was trivially simple: B3, the nurse, took a sample of oxytocin from the baby; then one of the baby’s carers cuddled the baby. B3 then took another sample. At a later time, the carer would return and repeat the exercise, except that this time she would play with the baby rather than cuddling it. Then the experiment would be repeated with the second mother.
‘What are the early results?’ I asked B1.
‘You of all people should know that it’s inappropriate to draw conclusions based on early raw data. Don’t you have mice to dissect? Seriously, we’ve got a women’s group visiting this afternoon and it’d be nice if you weren’t hanging around.’
B3 had been watching. ‘Can I buy you a coffee?’ she said.
‘It’s 3.13 p.m. Caffeine has a half-life—’
She turned, but intercepted me again outside the front door. ‘You want to know what the early data is saying? I’ll meet you at the café.’
Secrets, secrets, secrets. Rosie didn’t know why I was working on the project. She didn’t know about the Playground Incident, Lydia, and the Good Fathers Evaluation. Gene had deceived Claudia for years. Now B3 was sharing data that B1 would not. Once, there had been no secrets in my life. And my relationships, albeit few, had not been in danger. I suspected a correlation.
‘I’m taking the samples and I have to key in all the results,’ said B3. ‘The first job’s because I’m a nurse. So’s the second. So’s getting the coffee, for that matter. But you don’t need a PhD to see what’s happening. The oxytocin goes up with cuddling, doesn’t move with play. For either mother. Looks like only fathers can make the play thing happen. They’re changing the way they do the play so it’s more like cuddling. Not when you’re around, of course. They’ll find a reason to dump the early results.’
I walked back with B3.
‘Maybe come back tomorrow,’ she said. ‘Briony’s a bit edgy.’ B1.
In a social situation, I would have taken the subtle hint that I was not wanted. But this was science. Sometimes it is convenient to be immune to subtlety.
When I returned, a group of thirteen women was being greeted. B1 and B2 ignored me, but one of the women (age approximately sixty-five, BMI twenty-six) approached me directly.
‘Are you the token male?’ She laughed.
I used David Borenstein’s words. ‘I’ve been assigned by the Dean to ensure that the research is not influenced by lesbian politics.’
She laughed again. I detected friendliness. ‘What did you do to earn that job? Sleep with the Dean’s daughter?’
B1 interrupted and pointed to a woman with a baby beside her in a mid-quality pram. ‘When the baby wakes up, this woman is going to play with her baby, and we’re going to measure the baby’s oxytocin. She’s the non-gestational mother, and we’re finding that the baby’s oxytocin rises when she plays with the baby. Just as it did for fathers in the Israeli study.’
I added, ‘In the Israeli study there was no control group of unrelated males or females, so there is no evidence that the men and women had to be parents or carers in order to raise the oxytocin levels.’
B1 looked at me in a way that Rosie would look at someone if she meant ‘Shut the fuck up’. I suspected the meaning was the same. But the situation was not. Science is about honesty and transparency.
Friendly Woman asked, ‘What would happen to the baby’s oxytocin if an unrelated man or woman played with it?’
‘Exactly!’ I said.
B1 interrupted. ‘It’s not part of the study. And we can’t have strange men coming in here and touching the babies.’
The baby in the pram began crying. I had to act quickly before any cuddling or play process commenced. I ran over to the pram.
‘Is it all right if I play with your baby?’ I asked the mother. ‘I’m a member of the research team and I am approved by the police for baby handling.’
‘I guess.’ She smiled. ‘I thought it was going to be me, but sure. If you don’t upset him.’
I had no idea about how a baby might react to a large adult male. I had never handled one, except possibly my brother. I had a vague recollection of my mother giving Trevor to me to hold, and of handing him back to her as quickly as possible.
