“What contract?”
“We’re going to have a contract drawn up, so either of us can sue the other within an inch of his life for breaking it.”
Which is a hell of a way to start out a business venture, but it’s the only way to handle a slippery little skate like Lewis.
So he told me what he’d found. “It’s an emotions gauge.
That’s awkward terminology, I know, but it’s the best I can think of.”
“What does it do?”
“It tells how happy you are or how sad or how much you hate someone.”
“Oh, great,” I said, disappointed. “What good is a thing like that? I don’t need a gauge to tell me if I’m sore or glad or anything.”
He waxed practically eloquent. “Don’t you see what an instrument like that would mean to psychiatrists? It would tell more about patients than they’d ever be willing to tell about themselves. It could be used in mental institutions and it might be important in gauging reactions for the entertainment business, politics, law-enforcement and Lord knows what else.”
“No kidding! Then let’s start marketing!”