of.”
“She isn’t going to make it, though, is she? Regardless of what anyone does for her.” Angel didn’t look at him as she posed the question.
“I wouldn’t care to make a prophecy about that,” Watson said wryly as he sipped his drink. “She might. Though, admittedly, if she does she’s likely to go out like Leon.”
“Do you think
I’ll
ever make it?” Now Angel raised her head and stared him straight in the face.
“I’m not going to risk predictions about anyone,” Watson muttered. “You just keep trying until something happens.”
Carefully choosing the nastiest available turn of phrase, Dan cut in. “It seems to me that people who want to carry on when they have an example like Patrick before them have a lot in common with drug addicts, going on doping when they know what’s in store.”
He had intended the remark to be provocative. Hewasn’t prepared for the raw fury which blazed in Angel’s eyes, nor for her to thrust back her chair as though to storm away in disgust. But Watson, though he whitened around the lips and eyes, controlled himself and caught her by the arm, making her sit down again by main force.
“I don’t know what you expect to gain by that cheap kind of baiting, Cross,” he said tightly. “But I’ll accept that you’ve had a shock. All of us have. There’s no need, though, to fling insults around.”
Dan muttered something inaudible; even he wasn’t certain what he’d had in mind.
“Do I look like a dope peddler?” Watson pursued.
“Do they ever?” Dan snapped.
Watson flushed. He said, “Is that all you think stardropping amounts to—an escape from reality, like drugs? Well, it’s the exact fucking opposite!” He slammed his balled fist on the table, making their glasses jump. Now it was Angel’s turn to try and calm him down, but he shook her hand off and leaned close to Dan, his voice tremulous with conviction.
“Stardropping is quite literally what Berghaus guessed it might be—a path to new knowledge! But to grasp it requires an act of mental agility you can only compare to making a great scientific discovery. And when in all of history has the chance been offered to everyone, every single member of the human race, to share in that kind of experience? Hm?”
“But—” Dan began, and was cut short.
“If you’re not interested in the offer that’s being made, then the hell with you!” Watson seized his glass and drained it at one draught. “Go give that pretty Binton of yours to someone who cares, someone who thinks it’s
important
to bust down the blind blank walls of stale tradition and open his mind to new data, new discoveries new achievement! Stay in your mud-wallow and be happy if you prefer, but don’t pester
me
with your stupid insults!”
There was a pause, which happened to coincide with a general silence into which one of the barmaids threw a shrill insincere laugh. Watson’s tension subsided. He said as the regular babble of conversation resumed, “Sorry. It’s been a shock to us all, as I said. Leon was a long-time member of the club, and … Another? What was it?”
Dan would have preferred to get away from the pub altogether, but duty impelled him to carry on until he couldn’t stand the pressure a moment longer. He accepted the offer, and sat silently with Angel until Watson returned from the bar with the refilled glasses.
“Cheers,” he said, sitting down again. “Sorry, Cross. I didn’t have to blow my top any more than I said you did. Let me tell you a little story which I just remembered. Once a European found himself among a people so primitive they hadn’t invented the wheel. He decided to show them how to make carts and lighten their work.
“Well, at first they were delighted. But then the day came when one of the carts overturned, and the natives saw one of the wheels spinning around on its axle in midair. And they took to their heels, and from that day forth they’d have nothing to do with the
“She isn’t going to make it, though, is she? Regardless of what anyone does for her.” Angel didn’t look at him as she posed the question.
“I wouldn’t care to make a prophecy about that,” Watson said wryly as he sipped his drink. “She might. Though, admittedly, if she does she’s likely to go out like Leon.”
“Do you think
I’ll
ever make it?” Now Angel raised her head and stared him straight in the face.
“I’m not going to risk predictions about anyone,” Watson muttered. “You just keep trying until something happens.”
Carefully choosing the nastiest available turn of phrase, Dan cut in. “It seems to me that people who want to carry on when they have an example like Patrick before them have a lot in common with drug addicts, going on doping when they know what’s in store.”
He had intended the remark to be provocative. Hewasn’t prepared for the raw fury which blazed in Angel’s eyes, nor for her to thrust back her chair as though to storm away in disgust. But Watson, though he whitened around the lips and eyes, controlled himself and caught her by the arm, making her sit down again by main force.
“I don’t know what you expect to gain by that cheap kind of baiting, Cross,” he said tightly. “But I’ll accept that you’ve had a shock. All of us have. There’s no need, though, to fling insults around.”
Dan muttered something inaudible; even he wasn’t certain what he’d had in mind.
“Do I look like a dope peddler?” Watson pursued.
“Do they ever?” Dan snapped.
Watson flushed. He said, “Is that all you think stardropping amounts to—an escape from reality, like drugs? Well, it’s the exact fucking opposite!” He slammed his balled fist on the table, making their glasses jump. Now it was Angel’s turn to try and calm him down, but he shook her hand off and leaned close to Dan, his voice tremulous with conviction.
“Stardropping is quite literally what Berghaus guessed it might be—a path to new knowledge! But to grasp it requires an act of mental agility you can only compare to making a great scientific discovery. And when in all of history has the chance been offered to everyone, every single member of the human race, to share in that kind of experience? Hm?”
“But—” Dan began, and was cut short.
“If you’re not interested in the offer that’s being made, then the hell with you!” Watson seized his glass and drained it at one draught. “Go give that pretty Binton of yours to someone who cares, someone who thinks it’s
important
to bust down the blind blank walls of stale tradition and open his mind to new data, new discoveries new achievement! Stay in your mud-wallow and be happy if you prefer, but don’t pester
me
with your stupid insults!”
There was a pause, which happened to coincide with a general silence into which one of the barmaids threw a shrill insincere laugh. Watson’s tension subsided. He said as the regular babble of conversation resumed, “Sorry. It’s been a shock to us all, as I said. Leon was a long-time member of the club, and … Another? What was it?”
Dan would have preferred to get away from the pub altogether, but duty impelled him to carry on until he couldn’t stand the pressure a moment longer. He accepted the offer, and sat silently with Angel until Watson returned from the bar with the refilled glasses.
“Cheers,” he said, sitting down again. “Sorry, Cross. I didn’t have to blow my top any more than I said you did. Let me tell you a little story which I just remembered. Once a European found himself among a people so primitive they hadn’t invented the wheel. He decided to show them how to make carts and lighten their work.
“Well, at first they were delighted. But then the day came when one of the carts overturned, and the natives saw one of the wheels spinning around on its axle in midair. And they took to their heels, and from that day forth they’d have nothing to do with the
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