The girl smiled, pushed the power lever into forward range and steered into slow-moving traffic. "I saw a man lift a single, once, but that's all he was able to do with it."
The lighted street seemed intensely bright after the dimmer reaches of the park. "Ever think of running one into the river?"
She looked at him in amazement. "Fright, no. Why—you'd have to drive along a pedestrian path for at least a block to reach the bank!" Nedda spun the steering wheel to avoid a long string of solemn teeners playing follow the leader on singles. "You have funny thoughts, Al."
"I'm laughing." He flexed his muscles, impatient, as usual, with another citizen's sluggish mentation. "I suppose the damn music never gets on your nerves, either?"
"Music? Oh—the music." She listened as though for the first time to the muted strains which played continuously throughout the city—calming, soothing, lulling. "Of course not. Why should it?"
"They've got it synchronized," said Allen. "Government's got it synchronized so you hear it just the same volume no matter where you are outside. You have to listen to it."
"Darling, your boredom's showing."
He squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Don't let me spin you, lovely. I've got the answer."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. I applied for a DP this morning."