"Are you kidding?" she asked. "Five years and I'll be through, ten at the outside if I get to be a character." She shook her head and leaned forward. "Actually it's much worse than that. Male-female's almost finished. Government's going to crack down."
"They always say that," Phil reassured her with timid cheeriness, "and it never happens."
She shrugged fatalistically. "This time it will."
"I heard the president talking about something like that tonight," Phil said, "but he sounded drunk."
She shrugged.
"But Fun Incorporated is supposed to have all sorts of connections with the government," Phil continued to object.
She smiled oddly. "You're right. The best connections any syndicate ever had. Just the same, they're finished. Moe's been worried for weeks, worried bad. I can tell."
"Moe?"
"Moe Brimstine. You saw him for a minute this afternoon."
"Oh, yes," Phil said, getting a vivid memory flash of the door-filling, dark jowled hulk, and then went on with a little laugh, "You know, it startled me when his voice was the same as Old Rubberarm's. He seemed too important a man to be a door-tender."