"I don't know."
"Don't know?" said Sandra. Her voice went up in a crescendo and hit "G" above High "C" on the last note.
"No," said Larry. "Chicago, Venuland, Canalport, and Sharon are my best landmarks and they're all equally distant and in the same direction from here."
"Go to hell."
"That's across the River Styx from Sharon, on Pluto," said Timkins. "And that expression is making the Sharonites unhappy because people have been going there for thousands of years. Sharon hasn't the popularity."
"But look, Larry, I want to go along."
"Can you get here in one hour and eleven minutes. That's the absolute deadline until we can get to Terra and cook up a drive that's detuned enough from the cupralum-absorption region to permit us to tinker off and on around here."
"Where are you? How can I get there if you don't know where you are?"
"Ask someone."
Sandra's language became something that the communications commission has legislated against.