"Right, Danny."
"Right, Art boy?"
"Not right, Danny," said Johnson, softly.
"You mean it. You really mean it!" He shook his head, sadly. "What's the world coming to?"
"No good end, most likely," said Johnson. "But I don't intend to mess myself up any sooner than I absolutely have to."
"I dunno." Danny shook his head again. "You don't talk like the same Art boy I know. Hey, is that you, hiding inside that mess of goody-goody talk, Art baby? Come on out and join the party."
"No go, Danny." Johnson shook his head. "If I'm not the same Art boy, it's because I finally woke up."
"How did it go?" asked Cavendish, as he unclipped the electrodes.
"Go?" Johnson shrugged, then stretched and yawned widely. "I guess it went all right. I haven't seen Danny or Flip for forty years. Wonder what ever happened to them?"