There had been, for example, that matter of the spaceship contract.
Anson Lee, said the senator underneath his breath, is a pest. Nothing but a pest.
But Dr. Carson? Who was Dr. Carson?
The senator played a little mental game with himself, trying to remember, trying to identify the name before he read the story.
Dr. Carson?
Why, said the senator, I remember now. Long time ago. A biochemist or something of the sort. A very brilliant man. Did something with colonies of soil bacteria, breeding the things for therapeutic work.
Yes, said the senator, a very brilliant man. I remember that I met him once. Didn’t understand half the things he said. But that was long ago. A hundred years or more.
A hundred years ago—maybe more than that.
Why, bless me, said the senator, he must be one of us.
The senator nodded and the paper slipped from his hands and fell upon the floor. He jerked himself erect. There I go again, he told himself. Dozing. It’s old age creeping up again.