Especially dogs who spent as much time as Pugnax did up here, in the sky, far above the inexhaustible complex of odors to be found on the surface of the planet below.
* * * * * * * * * *
Pugnax has joined an elite cadre of Chums who are far above the concerns of the mortals far down below. Demands for explanations are for the surface people grounded in some reality whose natural laws they must obey. Down below, things are real, matter can be grasped, effects must be consistent with causes, inexhaustible complexes of odors smell. Up in the balloon, in the heavens, in the Earth's imagination, things can get a little . . . complicated. Can the things Pugnax encounters up in this realm actually be explained, even if he felt the need for an explanation? Or would one as rigid as a surface dweller soon succumb to madness at these heights, with these mysteries?
If that's so then Lindsay Noseworth must go mad at some point. Except, as we've seen thanks to Pugnax's nose, Lindsay isn't exactly what Lindsay pretends to be. Lindsay is one of these mysteries of the æther. Maybe that explains Lindsay's behavior: he's trying very much to fit in with these other humans and can only do so by following strict rules of behavior and rigid norms.
Or maybe Lindsay is just a Vulcan. Do they have a smell? Oh! I bet Lindsay is a replicant!
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