"But what I wanted to ask--"
"Yes?" Forrester said.
"Mr.--Bill--do you think I'll pass Introductory World History?"
Forrester considered that question. There was certainly a wide variety
of answers he could construct. When he had finished buttoning his shirt
he had decided on one.
"I don't see why not," he said, "so long as you complete your
assignments regularly."
* * * * *
Nearly two hours later, feeling somewhat light-headed but otherwise in
perfectly magnificent fettle, Forrester found himself on the downtown
subway. He'd showered and changed and he was whistling a gay little tune
as he checked his watch.
The time was five minutes to five. He had just over an hour before he
was due to appear at the Tower of Zeus All-Father, but it was better to
be a few minutes early than even a single second late.
The train ride was a little bumpy, but Forrester didn't really mind. He
was pretty well past being irritated by anything. Nevertheless, he was
speculating with just a faint unease as to what the Pontifex Maximus
wanted with him. What was in store for him at the strange appointment?
And why all the secrecy?
His brooding was interrupted right away. At 100th Street, a bearded old
man got on and sat down next to him. He nudged Forrester in the ribs and
muttered: "Look at that now, Daddy-O. Look at that."
"What?" Forrester said, constrained into conversation.
"Damn subways, that's what," the old man said. "Worse every year.
Bumpier and slower and worse. Just look around, Daddy-O. Look around."
"I wouldn't quite say--" Forrester began, but the old man gave him
another dig in the ribs and cut in:
"Wouldn't say, wouldn't say," he muttered. "Listen, man, there ain't
been an improvement in years. You realize that?"
"Well, I--"
"No progress, man, not in more than half a century. Listen, when I was a
teen king--War Councilor for the Boppers, I was, and let me tell you
that was big time, Daddy-O--when I was a teen king, we were going
places. Going places for real. Mars. Venus. We were going to have
spaceships, man."