“That’s twelve years ago,” Smalley said.
Kennon nodded. Ten years lost. Not bad—not bad at all. But Alexander could have done a lot in ten years.
“I meant no disrespect,” Smalley said worriedly.
“I know it. But if you intend to practice on Beta, you’d better polish your professional manner. Now where I was, it didn’t make much difference. Laymen often called me ‘Doc.’”
Smalley was properly shocked. “I hope you didn’t encourage them, sir.”
“It was impossible to discourage them,” Kennon said. “After all, when the man who hires you—”
“Oh—entrepreneurs,” Smalley said in a tone that explained everything.
* * *
The car stopped in front of the Medical Center’s staff entrance. “This way, sir,” Smalley said. He led the way down a green-tiled corridor to an elevator—then down another corridor past a pair of soft-footed nurses who eyed them curiously—looking at Kennon’s tunic and sandals with mild disapproval in their eyes. Smalley stopped and knocked softly on a closed door.
“Enter,” said a pleasant baritone voice from the annunciator.