Patron

Macarthur knew that somewhere back there he had lost all traces of Authority, but he tried a last-ditch effort anyway. "It didn't occur to you that the story might be like a probe toward some alternative form of consciousness, or — or being... ?"

All three rolled their eyes in the same direction. "Oh right," Victor said. "Mind expansion. Evolution of the sensorium. Like what your patron saint McLuhan was into."

Macarthur sort of frowned. "Marshall was... misunderstood."

"Must have been all the drugs," Victor sneered.

"What was the sixties really like?" Amanda wanted to know.

Macarthur stared at her. "Partly cloudy," he said.