"Go to hell," he said quietly and shook me loose. He lifted his glass,
drained the last few drops. He held the empty glass to the light, then
set it down, regretfully. "But first buy me a drink."
"You'd better go home," I said. "You've had enough."
He laughed harshly. "Look who's giving me orders. I know things about
this cock-eyed old world you never had nightmares about, and you're
ordering me around! Bossy newspapermen! Go to hell, then; I'll get my
own drink."
He rose unsteadily and managed his way to the bar. He came back with
the glass full.
"You still here. I thought I told you--"
"You'd better lay off that stuff," I said quietly. "You're not used to
it."
"Boy, oh boy, you're just full of orders today, aren't you? Charlie
Bennet, boy crusader! Well, I've got something you can crusade about.
Anything else you'd like?"
"That's enough for now."
"You're damn right it is. Now get the hell out of here and leave me
alone. Can't you see I'm brooding over the fate of the world?"
"What are you so mad about?"
He looked annoyed, and a little startled. "Brother, if you only knew--"
He raised his glass, and then stopped and set it on the table. "Wait a
minute. Maybe I ought to tell you. Maybe I ought to let the two of us
worry about it, instead of just me. Maybe you should print it in that
newspaper of yours."
"I'm willing to listen, anyway."
"Sure! Why not? I'm just beginning to experience that rosy sensation,
that warm feeling of camaraderie they keep stoppered up in bottles.
It's the only place on this planet you can find it."
"Don't be cynical."
"Maybe I should bust out laughing. The whole thing's really funny; it's
the funniest thing I've ever heard."
"We'd better go."
"Sure, let's go. But first--you want to see something really funny?
Here."
* * * * *
He took a pair of glasses from his pocket and handed them to me. They
seemed like ordinary shell-rimmed glasses, though the lenses were
tinted a slight blue.
"Put them on," he prompted. "Go ahead."
"Where'd you get these?"
"Made 'em," he said. "My job is optical research, remember. I was
fooling around in the lab with some invisible light experiments. The
right combination of lenses and coatings--and whammo! This." He took
a drink. "I should have been a lawyer or a plumber or something." He
grunted. "Or even a newspaperman!"
"What are they supposed to do--see in the dark?"
He laughed humorlessly. "That'd be a boon for a reporter, wouldn't it?
No, my friend, much worse than that. Try them on. Go ahead."