[Barbarella thanks Mark Hand for saving her from the vicious biting dolls.]
Barbarella: I'm so grateful for what you've done, I hardly know how to begin to thank you. I'm positive I can get you some sort of recompense from my government. I mean, if— if there's anything you need, or that I can do, please tell me.
Mark Hand: Well, you could let me... make love to you.
Barbarella: "Make love", did you say?
Mark Hand: Yes!
Barbarella: What do you mean? You don't even know my psychocardiogram!
Mark Hand: Eh?
Barbarella: Well, on Earth, for centuries, people haven't made love unless their psychocardiogram readings were in perfect confluence.
. . .
Barbarella: Do you have any pills?
Mark Hand: Pills?!
Barbarella: Oh, never mind. I have some here.
Mark Hand: Uh, b-b-uh... what is this pill?
Barbarella: It's an exhaltation transference pellet, of course.
Mark Hand: Hmm. I know nothing of this.
Barbarella: I see. Well, on Earth, when our psychocardiogram readings are in perfect confluence, and we wish to "make love", as you call it, we take an exhaltation transference pellet, and remain like this — here, let me show you...
[She kneels across the chamber from him, stretches out her hand, and closes her eyes.]
Barbarella: ... for one minute, or until full rapport is achieved.
. . .
Mark Hand: Ah! I don't care for that!
[He points toward the bed.]
Mark Hand: This! This is what I mean. This! The bed.
Barbarella: That?! But nobody's done that for centuries! I mean, nobody except the very poor, who can't afford the pills and the psychocardiogram readings.
Mark Hand: Why not?
Barbarella: 'Cause it was proved to be distracting and a danger to maximum efficiency! And... and because it was pointless to continue it when other substitutes for ego support and self-esteem were made available.
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