Of course, space cafard goes tragically further. A new man usually succumbs his first few hours in space, if he is going to get it at all. He probably makes it to the next planet, sometimes not; sometimes he goes incurably mad, right off the bat. But even if he does make it, wild horses could never get him on another rocketship. He becomes a halftripper, marooned on an alien world. Usually, although I have known of several exceptions, if you don't get it on your first trip, it seldom bothers you; you're immune for the rest of your life. He repeated, "How about it, spaceman?" Sam began to approach threateningly. He couldn't afford to have halftrippers hang out in his place. For one thing, the shipping lines would soon declare him out of bounds for their crews. You just can't let good men come in contact with obvious victims of space cafard. The old-timer Sam had called Joseph was distressed. "You know not what you say," he told me gently. I managed a sneer. "Am I supposed to buy a drink for every spacebum that comes along?" The halftripper's eyes lit up and he came closer to the old man. "How about it, pop? Could you loan me the price of a nip of woji?" Joseph's face was compassionate. "I am sorry, brother, I myself have nothing, but I commend you to the generosity of the tavern keeper." I snorted at that. I could imagine how much generosity the space leper would get from the bartender. That's where the surprise came. Sam sighed. "Okay, halftripper, what'll it be?" The spacebum ordered a double woji, got it down quickly, as though he was afraid Sam might change his mind, and then beat it to find a place to have his dreams when the full force of the also-narcotic drink hit him. I finished my brandy, ordered another, and grinned wryly at the old-timer. "You give me kert for telling him to beat it, but you give Sam the high sign to let him have woji with which to rot out his brains. I'd think I was being the kinder of the two of us." "Each man's salvation is within himself," Joseph said softly. "You won't redeem him by attempting to keep him from his weaknesses." "You talk like a saint but I notice you're sitting here at a bar." He looked at me penetratingly, and there was vast emptiness behind his eyes. "There is little to enjoy in life," he said softly, "but I have had ample time to investigate all of the supposed pleasures. At one time I drank greatly and kept myself in a state of continual intoxication for a period longer than you could believe. Then I went through a state when I let nothing pass my lips but water. Now I see the mistake of both extremes and can enjoy an occasional glass without feeling the need of swilling it down until intoxication dulls me." He had me interested now. I said, "You sound as though you've found the way in which to get the greatest satisfaction from everything in life but I notice that you don't appear particularly happy."