"It would do something else. It would drive you nuts."
I shrugged. "It might be distracting."
"Captain, take my word for it," argued Farley. "Constant sonic feedback inside a spacesuit will set you rocking against the grain."
"Devise some regular system of interruptions," I suggested.
"Then the pattern will drive you crazy. Maybe in a few months, with luck, I could plan some harmonic scale you could tolerate—"
"We don't have a few months," I said. "How about music? There's a harmonic scale for you, and we can endure it, some of it. Figaro and Asleep in the Cradle of the Deep can compensate for high-pitched outside temperatures, and Flight of the Bumble Bee to block bass notes."
Farley nodded. "Might work. I can program the tapes from the library."
"Good. There's one more thing—how are our stores of medicinal liquor?"
Farley paled. "Captain, are you implying that I should be running short on alcohol? Where do you get off suggesting a thing like that?"