…if a single use of goo as fertilizer packed two months’ worth of growth into a month, what would a weekly dose do?
That was the question I asked David, over the beers he was slowly starting to be able to afford. He seemed less thrilled about the idea than I was, though. “Doesn’t it bother you?” he asked me.
“What?” I said. “Making money using my major? Never.” I winced a little inside — that was an impolitic thing to say to someone without that luxury — but luckily David hadn’t noticed. The beer was stronger than he was used to, I think.
Besides, he was concerned about other things. “No! I mean the stuff we keep pulling out of the booze! What is it? Where did it come from? Are we drinking it now?” At my shrug, he blinked a little, in either surprise or inebriation. “You don’t really care, do you?”
“Not really,” I replied. “Whatever the goo is, it can’t be that dangerous. If it was, somebody would have noticed it already. There are a lot of nauseating substances in chemistry, David. We even need some of them to live. Besides, we are eliminating it from the final product. We should all be fine if we try not to drink it straight.”