‘By God,’ said Thompson in amazement and delight. It was not a good delight. Over Hip’s shoulder he said, ‘I apologize, Janie. I really didn’t believe you until now.’ To Hip he said, ‘You show remarkable powers of recovery.’
‘Homo sap’s a hardy beast,’ said Hip.
Thompson took off his glasses. He had wide round eyes, just the colour and luminescence of a black-and-white television screen. The irises showed the whites all the way around; they were perfectly round and they looked as if they were just about to spin.
Once, someone had said, Keep away from the eyes and you ’ ll be all right.
Behind him Janie said sharply, ‘Gerry!’
Hip turned. Janie put up her hand and left a small glass cylinder, smaller than a cigarette, hanging between her lips. She said, ‘I warned you, Gerry. You know what this is. Touch him and I bite down on it—and then you can live out the rest of your life with Baby and the twins like a monkey in a cage of squirrels.’
The thought, the thought—‘I’d like to meet Baby.’
Thompson thawed; he had been standing, absolutely motionless, staring at Janie. Now he swung his glasses around in a single bright circle. ‘You wouldn’t like him.’
‘I want to ask him a question.’
‘Nobody asks him questions but me. I suppose you expect an answer too?’