"Not likely. You see, it's the only appetite of which we are capable that can't be controlled by shifting endocrine balance. Ordinarily, our civilized manner of living prevents it from being aroused—that's the advantage of being civilized. Because, once the appetite shows up, it simply must be satisfied, or it's apt to do all sorts of poisonous things to you, as you can see. The trouble is, satisfying curiosity generally involves at least some work, and what civilized man is going to get himself involved with anything like that?"
"Insidious," Ruut whispered.
Curl turned away, but then hesitated and glanced back. "Still, since it concerns the aliens—" He frowned pensively. "There is a scheme we've never tried before that would probably cure him. I remember somebody mentioned it about eight hundred years ago, and we decided to try it out on the next case. Never did, though. Nobody was interested. It's sort of uncivilized, but I'll bring it up and see what the Council thinks."
He nodded shortly, and evacuated to his own focus.
"Well, my boy," Ruut said to Tensor. "I'm going to miss you."
"There is no need to concern yourself over me, sir," Tensor replied unemotionally. "It does not bother me in the slightest."
Ruut knew that to be the truth, but it made him feel sad to think of such a highly civilized man as Tensor falling to a level that was even below an administrator. Abruptly, he caught himself and readjusted the endocrine balance in his own body to compensate for the character of his thought, and the moody spell passed.
He left, and Tensor continued to stare unconsciously at the brilliant, deep violet of the sky, noting without appreciation the jewel-like points of light that were the stars.
The nego had to be recomposed twice in his body before Curl returned, his long, unkempt, black beard floating gently around his ears.