Meanwhile, there was a week of isolation to be filled. There were thirty courses on his shelf to choose from, various things he had planned to learn when the occasion arose. Now there'd be enough time to absorb two of them. He set up the audio-visuals and started on the intensive twenty-four hour regimen that permitted even sleeping hours to be pedagogically fruitful.
A week later, as the Solar Pioneer settled in its magnetic cradle near Paris, he found himself master of Old Sanskrit (his eighth language) and Luna: History of the First Settlements. He also found himself once more face to face with the problem of Hartley's devious scheming. A Probationer's badge was given him to wear before the Captain took him off the ship. Hartley accompanied him in a RobotCab toward the tower city twenty miles down the Seine from the ancient arrondissements.
"That powder was a drug," Cramer said as soon as they were alone in the cab. "You think you can turn it to private advantage but the idea's insane—everybody knows the dangers of drugs."
"That's the beauty of it—it isn't a drug." Hartley leaned back and crossed his legs. "There wasn't any after-effect, was there?"
"Doesn't mean a thing—drugs only do their real damage after repeated dosages. Joy can't be this free—you have to pay for it at horribly compounded interest when it comes this easily."
"I'm willing to wager we're going to find this stuff perfect, no side effects at all and—"
"The cry down through the ages, Captain, all drugs have been evil but this newest one is the exception. Until it turns out to be the same narcotic chimera, pure hell."