"You're not psycho?" asked Virginia.
"Not that I know of," he replied with a chuckle. "Though—as Pontius Pilate is credited with having said—'What is truth?'"
"Hmmm. I cannot deny your right to state truth as you see it, Bronson, but be it remembered that practically every human born since the atomic fire is a mutation of some sort or another."
"So what does that make me?"
"You might be some sort of brain mutation—don't ask what kind—one who does not recognize the truth."
"All I know is what I read in the papers, what I see in the moving pictures, and how I feel at the moment. Also, I am no mutation. I was exactly one year old when Alamogordo took place, even supposing that it did take off with radiations that might have mutated the germ plasm."
"Well, it did."
"According to you it did," replied Bronson.
"May I repeat your own statement to yourself?" she told him. "All I know—et cetera."
"Okay," he said. "And granting that our separate tales are true, then what?"