There’s dancing out on the sawdust now. Single girls prance around the edges as if it’s some tribal custom to let the couples take the center. I always found that an interesting phenomenon.

The kids don’t know anything about bluegrass, though some of the boys affect harmonicas. If it’s country it must be salubrious, so they hop around with thumbs in suspenders and fingers splayed to give their dance a superficial country air.

I can’t believe it. Did I just subvocalize the word “salubrious”? Sweet heavens, I must have gone mad!

What have I been doing, letting myself think like that? How long did I lapse? I look at my watch. No watch. I don’t wear one anymore. What’s wrong with me!

Calm down. You’ve only been intellectualizing since the beginning of the set. Too little time to do any real harm.

Besides, it’s not proven They can put a tracer on subvocalized thought. That was just a theory.

Still, maybe they can. So cut the two-dollar words, hmmm? When did philosophy ever do anybody any good anyway?

Joey asks me to help him move a keg. Sure. Anything’s better than standing here thinking. The crowd is too well behaved to serve as a distraction.

Down at the other end of the bar we heave the monster onto the platform. Straightening up, I rub the grease off my hands and look around the room. That’s when I see her.

She stands by the door; the coldness comes over me like an Amarillo norther. I cringe a little, momentarily thinking to make myself invisible as she peers around, blinking in the sharp light of the stage spots.

But there’s no dignified way to make six and a half feet of hair and muscle transparent. She sees Chuck and smiles and starts to walk over. And while she’s between there and here the magic thing happens again. The coldness leaves me.

She is very pretty, and she moves well.