More people had come inand now the place was really getting crowded; a lot of local people it seemedlike, but they seemed to mix with the sailors just fine, as though they wereused to each other. With all the ale and noise and friendliness of strangersthis was beginning to be sort of a great little joint. He drank and listenedand watched little patches of light from some sort of disco machine attached tothe jukebox circle around on the ceiling.

His thoughts began todrift. He thought of what Rigel had said. The East was a different country. Thedifference was hard to identify — you felt it more than you saw it.

Some of the Hudson valleyarchitecture had a Currier-and-Ives feeling of the early 1800s, a feeling ofslow, decent, orderly life that preceded the Industrial Revolution. Minnesota,where Phædrus came from, never shared that. It was mostly forests and Indiansand log cabins back then.

Traveling across Americaby water was like going back in time and seeing how it must have been long ago.He was following old trade routes that were used before railways becamedominant. It was amazing how parts of this river still looked the same as theold Hudson River school of painting showed it, with beautiful forests, andmountains in the distance.

As the boat moved southhe’d seen a growing aura of social structure, particularly in the mansions thathad become more numerous. Their styles were getting more and more removed fromthe frontier. They were getting closer and closer to Europe.

Two of the Canadians atthe bar were a man and a woman up against each other so close you couldn’t haveslipped a letter-opener between them. When the music stopped Phædrus motionedto Rigel and Capella to notice them. The man had his hand on the woman’s thighand the woman was smiling and drinking as though nothing was happening.

Phædrus asked Rigel,Are these some of your moral Canadians?