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His mind was a muddle; he needed time. “You—Frank—will you stay for a few days?”

“Sure. I’m in no hurry now. And while you’re thinking, let me give you a few hints. No more cripples or disease. No ugly people, unless they choose to be. And no law.”

“No—law?”

“How would you police such a world? A man could change his face at will, or his fingerprints. Even his teeth. Probably he could do things I can’t imagine yet.”

The buzzer went again, with Mrs. Grant’s subtle urgency. Amos ignored it, yet he hardly knew when Frank left the room.

He realized the chemist had done him a favor. The selfish thing would have been to keep the secret and the boon all to himself; instead, he’d given Amos the choice.

But what was the choice? Suppressing the drug would cost him his job. There was no doubt about that.

He was standing with his back to the door when he heard it open. He turned and faced Detrick’s annoyed frown. “Amos, we can’t keep this man waiting. He’s—”

All of Amos’ frustration and the new burden coalesced into rage. He ran toward Detrick. “You baboon-faced huckster!” he yelled. “Get out! Get out! I’ll tell you when you can come in here!” He barely caught his upraised fist in time.