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we flush out this old goof ball artist and told him it was pure Chinese H from The Ling Dynasty and Doc shoots the whole pint of green right into the main line and the Yellow Jacket turns fibrous grey green and withered up like an old turnip and I said: “I’m getting out of here, me,” and Doc said: “An unworthy vessel obviously—So I have now decided that junk is not green but blue.”
    So he buys a lot of tubes and globes and they are flickering in the basement this battery of tubes metal vapor and quicksilver and pulsing blue spheres and a smell of ozone and a little high-fi blue note fixed you right to metal this junk note tinkling through your crystals and a heavy blue silence fell klunk —and all the words turned to cold liquid metal and ran off you man just fixed there in a cool blue mist of vaporized bank notes—We found out later that the metal junkies were all radioactive and subject to explode if two of them came into contact—At this point in our researches we intersected The Nova Police—

Chinese Laundry
    CHINESE LAUNDRY
    When young Sutherland asked me to procure him a commission with the nova police, I jokingly answered: “Bring in Winkhorst, technician and chemist for The Lazarus Pharmaceutical Company, and we will discuss the matter.”
    â€œIs this Winkhorst a nova criminal?”
    â€œNo just a technical sergeant wanted for interrogation.”
    I was thinking of course that he knew nothing of the methods by which such people are brought in for interrogation—It is a precision operation—First we send out a series of agents—(usually in the guise of journalists)—to contact Winkhorst and expose him to a battery of stimulus units—The contact agents talk and record the response on all levels to the word units while a photographer takes pictures—This material is passed along to The Art Department—Writers write “Winkhorst,” painters paint “Winkhorst,” a method actor becomes “Winkhorst,” and then “Winkhorst” will answer our questions—The processing of Winkhorst was already under way—
    Some days later there was a knock at my door—Young Sutherland was standing there and next to him a man with coat collar turned up so only the eyes were visible spitting indignant protest—I noticed that the overcoat sleeves were empty.
    â€œI have him in a strait jacket,” said Sutherland propelling the man into my room—“This is Winkhorst.”
    I saw that the collar was turned up to conceal a gag—“But—You misunderstood me—Not on this level—I mean really—”
    â€œYou said bring in Winkhorst didn’t you?”
    I was thinking fast: “All right—Take off the gag and the strait jacket.”
    â€œBut he’ll scream the fuzz in—”
    â€œNo he won’t.”
    As he removed the strait jacket I was reminded of an old dream picture—This process is known as retroactive dreaming—Performed with precision and authority becomes accomplished fact—If Winkhorst did start screaming no one would hear him—Far side of the world’s mirror moving into my past—Wall of glass you know—­Winkhorst made no attempt to scream—Iron cool he sat down—I asked Sutherland to leave us promising to put his application through channels—
    â€œI have come to ask settlement for a laundry bill,” Winkhorst said.
    â€œWhat laundry do you represent?”
    â€œThe Chinese laundry.”
    â€œThe bill will be paid through channels—As you know nothing is more complicated and time consuming than processing requisition orders for so-called ‘personal expenses’—And you know also that it is strictly forbidden to offer currency in settlement.”
    â€œI was empowered to ask a settlement—Beyond that I know ­nothing—And now may I ask why I have been