"Relics of the past," Harvey stated. "One medication is all modern man requires to combat the dread menace, asteroid fever."
"What's that?" asked the mayor without conviction.
Instead of replying, Harvey hurried outside to the ungainly second-hand rocket ship in the center of the shabby spaceport. He returned within a few minutes, carrying a bottle.
Joe was still stretched out on the bar, panting, his eyes slowly crossing and uncrossing. Harvey lifted the patient's head tenderly, put the bottle to his lips and tilted it until he was forced to drink. When Joe tried to pull away, Harvey was inexorable. He made his partner drink until most of the liquid was gone. Then he stepped back and waited for the inevitable result.
Joe's performance was better than ever. He lay supine for several moments, his face twisted into an expression that seemed doomed to perpetual wryness. Slowly, however, he sat up and his features straightened out.
"Are—are you all right?" asked the mayor anxiously.
"Much better," said Joe in a weak voice.
"Maybe you need another dose," Harvey suggested.
Joe recoiled. "I'm fine now!" he cried, and sprang off the bar to prove it.