"Living or dying--it doesn't make any difference. Whatever happens, I'm incapable of being unhappy." "If it weren't for the drug, we'd both live. You'd think of a way to kill them before they killed us." "There is no way." "There must be. You just can't think of it while the drug has you in its grip." "The drug doesn't have you, dear." He asked without sarcasm, "Why don't you think of a way?" "Because I lack the training you have. Because I don't have the scientific knowledge, and all the equipment scattered around means nothing to me." "There's nothing to be done." Her fists clenched. "If you weren't under the influence of the drug--" "You know that it doesn't affect the ability to think. Tests have shown that." "Tests conducted by addicts themselves!" "The fact that they can conduct the tests should be proof enough that there's nothing wrong with their minds." "But there _is_!" she shouted. "I can see it in you. Oh, I know that you can still add and subtract, and you can draw lines under two words which mean the same thing, but that isn't really thinking. Real thinking means the ability to tackle real problems--hard problems that you can't handle merely with paper and pencil. It means having the incentive to use your brain for a long time at a stretch. And that's what the drug has ruined. It has taken away all your incentive." "I still go about my duties." "Not as well as you used to, and even at that, only because they've become a habit. Just as you talk to me, because I've become a habit. If you'd let me give you the antidote--" He chuckled at the absurdity of her suggestion. Once an addict had been cured, he could not become addicted again. The antidote acted to produce a permanent immunization against the effects of the drug. It was the realization of this fact that made addicts fight so hard against any attempt to cure them. And she thought that she could convince him by argument! He said, "_You_ talk of not being able to think!" "I know," she replied hotly. "_I'm_ the one who blunders. _I'm_ the fool, for arguing with you, when I realize that it's impossible to convince a marak addict." "That's it," he nodded, and chuckled again. But that wasn't quite it. For he was also chuckling at his plan. She had thought him unable to tackle a real problem. Well, he would tackle one tonight. Then she would simply adopt his point of view, and she would no longer be unhappy. After she had accepted the solution he had provided, she would wonder how she could ever have opposed him. He fell into one of his dozes and hardly noticed her glaring at him. When he came out of it at last, it was to hear her say, "We have to stay alive as long as possible. For the sake of the lighthouse." "Of course, my dear. I don't dispute that at all." "And the longer we stay alive, the more chance there is that some ship will pick us up."