Curt glanced at the speedometer and eased the pressure on the pedal. He grinned. "Wool-gathering again."
"What about?"
"I was just wondering who said it first—one of the fellows at Detrick, or that lieutenant at Bikini, or—"
"Said what? What are you talking about?"
"That crack about the weapons after the next war. He—whoever it was—said there may be some doubt about what the weapons of the next war will be like, but there is absolutely no doubt about the weapons of World War IV. It will be fought with stones and spears. I guess any one of us could have said it."
Louise's smile grew tight and thin. "Don't any of you ever think of anything but the next war—any of you?"
"How can we? We're fighting it right now."
"You make it sound so hopeless."
"That's what Dell said in the days just before he quit. He said we didn't have to stay at Detrick producing the toxins and aerosols that will destroy millions of lives. But he never showed us how we could quit—and be sure of staying alive. His own walking out was no more than a futile gesture."
"I just can't understand him, Curt. I think he's right in a way, but what brought him to that viewpoint?"