"What are they saying in Washington? Does anybody put any stock in this magnology stuff of Professor Garet's?"
"Facts are being collated. There's been no evaluation yet. You'll hear from us again when there's something to tell you. For now, Cort, carry on. You're doing a splendid job."
The streets were cold, dark, and deserted. The few street lights were feeble and the lights in houses and other buildings seemed dimmer than normal. A biting wind had sprung up and Don was glad when he saw the neon words Club Lyric ahead.
The bartender greeted him cheerfully. "It ain't a fit night. What'll it be?"
Don decided on a straight shot, to start. "What's going on?" he asked. "Where's the old town going?"
The bartender shrugged. "Let Civek worry about that. It's what we pay him for, ain't it?"
"I suppose so. How're you fixed for liquor? Big supply?"
"Last a coupla weeks unless people start drinking more than usual. Beer'll run out first."
"That's right, I guess. But aren't you worried about being up in the air like this?"
The bartender shrugged again. "Not much I can do about it, is there? Want another shot?"