“In the Empire you got to pay; escape is a commodity like anything else. And it’s this stuff; drink. Lowers the reaction time, makes the tears come easier…” Za put two swaying fingers to his cheeks. “… makes the fists come easier…” Now his hands were clenched, and he pretended to box; jabbing. “… and…” He shrugged. “… it eventually kills you.” He looked more or less at Gurgeh. “See?” He spread his arms wide again and then let them fall back limply on the seat. “Besides,” he said, in a suddenly weary voice. “I don’t have all the usual glands.”
