“An hour after you’ve taken the seventh pill you’ll have thirty-six t-standard hours of what you want. That I promise you.” Sawbill registered the exchange of credit on his own battered cardmeter, handed the card back to Jordan. Then he sat back in his chair and took out a pipe. He began stuffing it with tobacco.
Jordan reset his card while Sawbill spoke. “If anyone should ask, you’ve never seen me before and you never will again.” Jordan didn’t look up. “You will have the anger to enforce the drive to do what it is you desire to do. Provided you don’t run into someone with” a stronger reserve of the natural stuff than what I’ve given you. Most unlikely that there is anyone on this planet who can resist the force those seven capsules are going to put hi your head.
“You’re a peaceable-seeming young fellow. Those are usually the types who seek me out.”
“Mine is a case of a strong emotion seeking a stronger one,” muttered Jordan. He pulled out a small quartz vial and carefully deposited the pills in it, one by one.
Sawbill leaned forward suddenly. He put a gnarled hand covered with gray fuzz on Jordan’s slimmer, smoother one. He stared hard and searchingly into the other’s eyes.
“You’ve no idea what you’re getting into, feller me lad. Before you go I want to know what you intend these capsules for. I want to know why you want them. I want to know the details. I want the ramifications, the exigencies, the history you call up your desire from. I want all that before I let you go.”
“Well,” Jordan began uncertainly, “there is a woman—”