The drug hit him like an express train, a white-hot column of light mounting his spine from the region of his prostate, illuminating the sutures of his skull with X-rays of short-circuited sexual energy. 'Don't you drink a glass to us, dear little neighbours?' said I. His teeth sang in their individual sockets like tuning forks, each one pitch-perfect and clear as ethanol. 'I don't drink wine,' said the lass; 'I like lemonade better: but I wish you health!' His bones, beneath the hazy envelope of flesh, were chromed and polished, the joints lubricated with a film of silicone. 'And I like ginger-beer better,' said the little lad. Sandstorms raged across the scoured floor of his skull, generating waves of high thin static that broke behind his eyes, spheres of purest crystal, expanding ... Well, well, thought I, neither have children's tastes changed much. 'Come on,' she said, taking his hand. 'You got it now. We got it. Up the hill, we'll have it all night.' And therewith we gave them good day and went out of the booth. The anger was expanding, relentless, exponential, riding out behind the betephenethylamine rush like a carrier wave, a seismic fluid, rich and corrosive. To my disappointment, like a change in a dream, a tall old man was holding our horse instead of the beautiful woman. His erection was a bar of lead. He explained to us that the maiden could not wait, and that he had taken her place; and he winked at us and laughed when he saw how our faces fell, so that we had nothing for it but to laugh also. The faces around them in Emergency were painted doll things, the pink and white mouth parts moving, moving, words emerging like discrete balloons of sound. 'Where are you going?' he said to Dick. He looked at Cath and saw each pore in the tanned skin, eyes flat as dumb glass, a tint of dead metal, a faint bloating, the most minute asymmetries of breast and collarbone, the something flared white behind his eyes. 'To Bloomsbury,' said Dick. He dropped her hand and stumbled for the door, shoving someone out of the way. 'All right,' said Dick, 'tell me when you want to get down and I'll stop for you. Let's get on.' 'Fuck you!' she screamed behind him, 'you ripoff shit!' So we got under way again; and I asked if children generally waited on people in the markets.