Three minutes and twenty-eight seconds it was, Nodus monologuing from behind his hand to Russ, the girl beating a new time.
In the shattering silence, Woodard laughed tremulously. "This must be the next thing to shock therapy."
The girl tensed. Russ looked wary.
"What makes you say that?" Nodus demanded.
"Why—I just meant...." Woodard was unnerved. He rarely minded giving offense, but he liked to know when and how he was doing it. "I suppose," he placated, "that atomic fission is more what I had in mind...."
Nodus looked at him suspiciously. "There are worse things than atoms," he said. The girl cackled, then looked blankly about as if she hadn't done it. Nodus ignored her. "Not a family man, are you, Woodard?"
"No." Woodard took in Nodus' quick nod. Had the admission somehow worsened his situation?
"No one to care?" cried the girl, her dark eyes gleaming archly. "No one to miss you?"
She was stilled by a flicker of Nodus' eye.
On with the effects. "Now this," Nodus lectured, handling the new record tenderly, "has more surface noise than I consider excusable. I keep it in my library only because...."