“Well, no. yes. Maybe. That is, I think I do,” said Fletcher, as if in a daze.
“Good. Even if you don’t, you will.”
“I’ll need—to talk to the others—”
“Of course you will. That’s how you people do things. That’s why I’m here and you’re there.” Asenion shrugged. “Well, no hurry about it. Create the universe tomorrow, create it the week after next, what’s the difference? It’ll get done sooner or later. It has to, because it already has been done. You see?”
“Yes. Of course. Of—course. And now—if you’ll excuse me—” Fletcher murmured. “I—ah—have a dinner appointment in a little while—”
“That can wait too, can’t it?” said Asenion, smiling with sudden surprising amiability. He seemed genuinely glad to have been of assistance. “There’s something I forgot to show you this afternoon. A remarkable plant, possibly unique—a nidularium, it is, Brazilian, not even named yet, as a matter of fact—just coming into bloom. And this one—wait till you see it, Fletcher, wait till you see it—”