And that would take care of that.
Of course Nirva, the Dream Planet, was a fake. It was a fairy story for childish minds, not capable of affecting the mature intellect. But there was nothing like being doubly sure. Secad Screed was always sure.
The only thing that upset him more than being not quite sure was the idea of something being wrong. But of course this never happened.
"All right, Viola," he said that night, after letting her sit, fidgety, looking the question she didn't quite dare to ask all evening long. "So you want to go to this ridiculous planet, Nirva. Don't you?"
"Dear, of course not! Not if you don't think—that is, you said it was stupid. So of course we wouldn't—"
"Please, Viola. You should know better than to try to deceive me. And so should Garten. It is completely and transparently clear to me that both of you are trying to get me to take you to this so-called dream world. Childish escapism. You know that?"
"Yes, of course, dear."
"Very well. We are going."
"Oh! How wonderful. Thank you!"