"It's perfectly all right," Doris said. "It might be a very good idea."
Her uncle slapped his knee with delight and Justin chuckled.
"Y'know," said Hackett, "there's people in Europe still think we shoulda used our nuclear bombs those last two wars. Maybe they're right, it woulda cut down the population."
"No," said Justin, "but say we had. There were four billion in the world in 1980. How many could the bombs kill before knocking both sides out? A billion? All Europe, Russia and North America? So you'd put the clock back only twenty years to 1960 when there were only three billion, and delayed the crisis by only that much. But you'd still have it. No, it was better not and we hadn't the blood on our hands."
He winked.
"Besides, it saved our nuclear power for the Great Adventure."
Hackett missed the malicious irony.
"But you can't tell 'em that. They blame us for everything. They're poor. God, they're poor. And because we're a mite better off, and by some miracle still have free elections, they hate our guts."
"They always did," said Justin. "The legend of Uncle Shylock dies hard."
"They hate us," Hackett repeated. "And yet, it's just pitiful the way they look to us for the answer."