It did, and H.D. grumblingly took some. It tasted good, too—beefy—and he went at it. Between slurps he tried to get a little more information. "You say the U.S. conquered the world fifty years after I died?"
"Oh, no! Just absorbed it, you might say. You had something to do with that in a way."
"Eh? How's that?"
"Well, your idea of putting yourself on ice to wait for better times gradually got around and, after awhile, it got pretty common in the States. The insurance companies did most of it. But they couldn't do it in Europe, being, you know, bureaucratic and half decayed and all, and so poor from all the wars. Couldn't afford it. Guess I'm not much of a historian."
Snort from H.D.
"Oh, eat your soup! Well, it got hard for the European leaders to keep their people satisfied with their poverty but there were still plenty of ugly things here they could point to. Then Farbenstein came along with his Probe, and the Constitution was amended to adopt the Ascension Code—and a lot of things changed."
By this time H.D. had finished his soup, and Dr. Lorraine took his plate away and flipped the switch above him that lowered the head of his bed. H.D. objected testily.
"I don't want to lie down! Quit that, will you. What about this confounded Code?"
The doctor shook her head. "Sorry, it's time for your nap now."