"Perhaps ... some day. But you don't understand, Joy. Those plants ... I had been eating them."
Fraser started back in horror, coming to his feet as his stool clattered across the smooth steel floor. "But my Lord, man ... them things is fatal! One nibble and ye're a cooked goose!"
"I know. I've seen men who died that way, and I wanted to go out as quickly. I couldn't take it any more. But I ate everything—all colors and all the tastes you could find in your foulest nightmares. I even ate the t'ang berries. Am I dead?"
"Lord knows why you ain't, lad!"
"I know I ate the things, Joy. But that's not what I meant. Perhaps the things counteracted themselves in me, I ate so many. I meant the t'ang."
"You—it didn't affect you!" Fraser eyed his patient in growing astonishment. There were no indications Thorne had sopped up a heavy dose of the lethal drug.
"No. I feel nothing. Just like I'd had a good sleep, though I'm still worn out and weak. Dead tired and hungry, but I have no thirst. And my craving for the stuff is classic, Joy."
"I've heard that, lad." Fraser shook his head, remembering the wild tales.
"I don't want a drink, Joy!"