His job now is to find the truth wherever it leads.
We leave it to your foundations to handle the public, to educate society."
He smiled at the Raynors and steered me away from them.
"That," I said, "is not at all what I was going to say."
"I didn't think you were," he whispered, holding onto my elbow.
"But I could see by that gleam in your eye you were ready to cut them to pieces.
And I couldn't allow that, could I?"
"Guess not," I agreed, helping myself to another martini.
"Is it wise of you to drink so heavily?"
"No, but I'm trying to relax and I seem to have come to the wrong place."
"Well, take it easy," he said, "and keep out of trouble tonight.
These people are not fools.
They know the way you feel about them, and even if you don't need them, we do."
I waved a salute at him.
"I'll try, but you'd better keep Mrs. Raynor away from me.
I'm going to goose her if she wiggles her fanny at me again."
"Shhhh!" he hissed.
"She'll hear you."
"Shhhh!" I echoed.
"Sorry.
I'll just sit here in the corner and keep out of everyone's way."
The haze was coming over me, but through it I could see people staring at me.
I guess I was muttering to myself—too audibly.
I don't remember what I said.
A little while later I had the feeling that people were leaving unusually early, but I didn't pay much attention until Nemur came up and stood in front of me.
"Just who the hell do you think you are, that you can behave that way?
I have never seen such insufferable rudeness in my life." I struggled to my feet. "Now, what makes you say that?"
Strauss tried to restrain him, but he spluttered and gasped out:
"I say it, because you have no gratitude or understanding of the situation.
After all, you are indebted to these people if not to us—in more ways than one."
"Since when is a guinea pig supposed to be grateful?" I shouted.
"I've served your purposes, and now I'm trying to work out your mistakes, so how the hell does that make me indebted to anyone?"
Strauss started to move in to break it up, but Nemur stopped him.
"Just a minute.
I want to hear this.
I think it's time we had this out."
"He's had too much to drink," said his wife.
"Not that much," snorted Nemur.
"He's speaking pretty clearly. I've put up with a lot from him.
He's endangered—if not actually destroyed—our work, and now I want to hear from his own mouth what he thinks his justification is."
"Oh, forget it," I said.
"You don't really want to hear the truth."
"But I do, Charlie.
At least your version of the truth.
I want to know if you feel any gratitude for all the things that have been done for you—the abilities you've developed, the things you've learned, the experiences you've had.
Or do you think possibly you were better off before?"
"In some ways, yes."
That shocked them.
"I've learned a lot in the past few months," I said. "Not only about Charlie Gordon, but about life and people, and I've discovered that nobody really cares about Charlie Gordon, whether he's a moron or a genius.
So what difference does it make?"