Part 18 (1/2)

”A good word to know,” said Leland Clewes.

There was laughter all around.

”Our lovely hostess has promised two more surprises before the evening is over,” I said. These would turn out to be the trooping in of my son and his little human family from upstairs, and the playing of a phonograph recording of part of my testimony before Congressman Richard M. Nixon of California and others so long ago. It had to be played at seventy-eight revolutions per minute. Imagine that. ”As though I hadn't had surprises enough!” I said.

”Not enough nice ones, old man,” said Cleveland Lawes.

”Say it in Chinese,” I said. He had, of course, been a prisoner of war of the Chinese for a while.

Lawes said something that certainly sounded like Chinese.

”How do we know he wasn't ordering sweet-and-sour pork?” said Sarah.

”You don't,” said Lawes.

We had begun our feast with oysters, so I announced that oysters were not the aphrodisiacs many people imagined them to be.

There were boos, and then Sarah Clewes beat me to the punch line of that particular joke. ”Walter ate twelve of them the other night,” she said, ”and only four of them worked!”

She had lost another patient the day before.

There was more laughter all around.

And I was suddenly offended and depressed by how silly we were. The news, after all, could hardly have been worse. Foreigners and criminals and other endlessly greedy conglomerates were gobbling up RAMJAC. Mary Kathleen's legacy to the people was being converted to mountains of rapidly deteriorating currency, which were being squandered in turn on a huge new bureaucracy and on legal fees and consultants' fees, and on and on. What was left, it was said by the politicians, would help to pay the interest on the people's national debt, and would buy them more of the highways and public buildings and advanced weaponry they so richly deserved.

Also: I was about to go to jail again.

So I elected to complain about our levity. ”You know what is finally going to kill this planet?” I said.

”Cholesterol!” said Frank Ubriaco.

”A total lack of seriousness,” I said. ”n.o.body gives a d.a.m.n anymore about what's really going on, what's going to happen next, or how we ever got into such a mess in the first place.”

Israel Edel, with his doctor's degree in history, took this to be a suggestion that we become even sillier, if possible. So he began to make booping and beeping sounds. Others chimed in with their own beeps beeps and and boops boops. They were all imitating supposedly intelligent signals from outer s.p.a.ce, which had been received by radio telescopes only the week before. They were the latest news sensation, and had in fact driven the RAMJAC story off the front pages. People were beeping and booping and laughing, not just at my party, but everywhere.

n.o.body was prepared to guess what the signals meant. Scientists did say, though, that if the signals were coming from whence they appeared to come, they had to be a million years old or more. If Earth were to make a reply, it would be the start of a very slow conversation, indeed.