"Ain't your say-so good enough for me?"
"Yes. Sure. Of course. I guess—"
"If you say them animals ain't there, that's all I need. Now, stand aside, you film-developing flea, and let an Irishman settle their bones." He took an unnecessary hitch in trousers that didn't exist except under an inch of porous metal plate. "Your express purpose on this voyage, Hathaway, is taking films to be used by the Patrol later for teaching Junior Patrolmen how to act in tough spots. First-hand education. Poke another spool of film in that contraption and give me profile a scan. This is lesson number seven: Daniel Walks Into The Lion's Den."
"Irish, I—"
"Shut up and load up."
Hathaway nervously loaded the film-slot, raised it.
"Ready, Click?"
"I—I guess so," said Hathaway. "And remember, think it hard, Irish. Think it hard. There aren't any animals—"
"Keep me in focus, lad."
"All the way, Irish."