"Give me a break, Al. I won't come near you or Oakey. I'll stay here. There's food, water ... everything I need. Just let me live till it starts to hurt. Maybe I'll ask you to come in then."
"There isn't time, Joe. Besides, it'll be easier this way. You're dying. You're shooting sparks from your hair roots. Something might happen and Oakey and I would come down with the Quinnies. We are the only earthmen left now, Joe."
"Don't be too sure." Joe's voice was harsh, like the hissing of sparks. "You might have the Quinnies and not know it."
"You're not in pain?"
"Hell no. I told you I wasn't. But I'm lit up like the Fourth of July, Guy Fawkes Day, Bastille Day and the Chinese New Year."
"Your brain's a dynamo of energy, Joe. It's shooting Quinnies in all directions through every nerve fibre of your body."
"Are you trying to make it easier, or something?"
"I'm trying to make you understand. I've got to kill you. I'm not doing it because I want to. You're my best friend, Joe. We've had a lot of swell times together. But I've got to kill you—Oakey and I have to land on the Green Planet and we're not taking the Quinnies there with us."
"You're doing me a favor, huh? Some favor. Better make sure you haven't got the Quinnies yourself before you try to make like God."
"I'd know if I had 'em," said Al. "I'm coming in, Joe."