# <center>apology</center>
<center>*noun* | apol·o·gy | \ə-ˈpä-lə-jē\ </center>
: something that is said or written to defend something that other people criticize
-*Merriam-Webster Dictionary*
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Dr. Stephens lowered his pint glass with a hearty, contented sigh.
“Now *that’s* some good swill,” he said with a grin. Mike, the bartender, just chuckled and shook his head at the backhanded compliment. “How’s it treating you?” he added, giving his companion a jab on the shoulder. Dr. Mandrake shrugged as he watched the carbon dioxide diffuse and bubble to the top of his glass.
“It’s beer,” he said simply. Dr. Stephens gave him a horrified expression.
“You say it with such apathy,” he said, simultaneously gesturing to Mike for another round. “What shall be said of man at the end of time? What shall be our crowning achievement? What shall stand as a testament to our greatness, if not this -- the heavenly ambrosia; the honeydew of Xanadu; the Olympian ichor; the great marvel that is *beer!*” He exclaimed the last line to a chorus of raucous cheers as his fellow patrons raised their glasses and promptly downed them. Dr. Mandrake simply laughed at the absurdity of the moment, rubbing his eyes.
“This is why I drink with you,” he said, lowering his hand. “You seem to find the greatest enjoyment in the simplest of things.” Dr. Stephens spluttered slightly.
“‘Simple’?” he asked in a sudden fit of incredulity. “Do you think that I am exaggerating the importance of beer in the history of mankind? I don’t need a mortician to tell me about what constitutes the life-pulse of civilization.” He stopped momentarily to lift his glass and chug it down, then fired off a finger-gun at Mike, who responded aptly by filling another glass and sliding it over.
“The fact is,” Dr. Stephens continued, his speech becoming somewhat boisterous and slurred, “beer is quite possibly the greatest thing mankind has ever accomplished. Before it was invented, humans were entirely nomadic. Beer allowed for agriculture and free trade as people settled down to farm and brew it. Towns literally developed around this most ancient and even prehistoric of facilities -- the pub. If it weren’t for beer, civil society may never have formed at all. We’d probably still be sitting in caves, roasting our meat on open fires and drawing on walls like children.”
Dr. Mandrake laughed and took a drink of his lager. It was truly awful, but no one came into this particular bar to be a connoisseur.
“So, you really think that beer is the greatest thing that mankind has ever achieved?”
“Yes.”
“Over electricity?”
“Yes.”
“And indoor plumbing?”
There was a slight pause.
“Absolutely.”
“And modern medicine? I’ll remind you, in case you’ve forgotten, that you are a doctor.”
“Without a doubt.” No hesitation this time. Dr. Mandrake just shook his head and laughed.
“So, you would think,” he said, “that an endless supply of beer would be the absolute pinnacle of human evolution.”
Dr. Stephens stared blurry-eyed at his companion in mild consternation. “And you wouldn't?” he asked with absolute sincerity. Dr. Mandrake rubbed his eyes again as he burst into tearful laughter.
“This is completely preposterous, but okay, I think I’m in the mood to indulge it. Let’s say you had a bottle of beer that never ran dry. I don’t care if it’s science or magic or what, but whether you’re drinking from it or pouring it out, it never goes empty.”
One of the other patrons at the end of the bar made a grunt into his pint and gurgled about a dream come true. Dr. Stephens simply nodded.
“You would consider that the height of human accomplishment?” Dr. Mandrake asked. Dr. Stephens thought for a moment, then sighed slightly.
“Well...yeah.”
Dr. Mandrake shook his head again.
“Alright, well, let’s make it better,” he said after taking a sip. “Let’s say it’s not a bottle. Let’s say it’s a refrigerator. A refrigerator that’s always stocked with beer. Wouldn’t that be better than a single bottle?”
Dr. Stephens grunted into his pint glass, which Dr. Mandrake took as a sign of approval.
“Okay,” Dr. Mandrake continued, “let’s go one better. Let’s say that every time you opened the fridge, it would have a completely new stock of beer. You could open it, take whatever you wanted, close it, and then open it again, taking whatever else you found appealing. Now wouldn’t *that* be the best possible scenario?”
Dr. Stephens thought for a moment, then let out an uproarious belch and ordered some chips.
“No,” he said, finally. Dr. Mandrake simply stared at him.
“And why not?”
Dr. Stephens finished his pint and banged it on the bartop a few times to get Mike’s attention. “I’m picturing myself opening the fridge over and over, only to find the worst beer ever brewed. It would be impossible to find the one I actually want.” Dr. Mandrake looked on in mild confusion. Dr. Stephens threw up his hands as though to indicate that he was launching into a hypothetical -- a gesture which was most definitely lost on his drinking partner.
“I’m looking for a Guinness. I open the fridge. Coors. Nothing but Coors. Close the fridge. Open it. PBR. Jesus. Close the fridge. Open it. Rows of Heineken. For God’s sake, I’ll never get something decent at this rate.”
Dr. Mandrake laughed again.
“You’re just saying that because that’s the only garbage you ever see, because this is the only bar you ever want to go to. No offense, Mike.” Mike grunted in dismissal.
“However,” Dr. Mandrake continued, “there are hundreds -- thousands -- of craft beers from all around the world. I maintain that the restocking fridge is the best possible ‘infinite beer’ device for two reasons: first, because it encourages you to be adventurous and try something you’ve never had before; and second, because it forces you to accept what fate has given you. I think both of them are important life lessons.”
Dr. Stephens shrugged slightly, then nodded in begrudging agreement.
“And what better way to learn them than through beer?” he asked rhetorically, taking another swig from his glass. Dr. Mandrake simply laughed.
“I’m sure there is none.”
The two drank in silence for a minute in philosophical reflection.
“‘Are’,” Dr. Stephens finally corrected.
“Hmm?”
“‘Are none’,” he repeated. “‘None’ is plural. It would be ‘are none’.”
“But that sounds stupid.”
“You’re stupid.”
The two doctors began drinking in silence again, acknowledging that they were both stupid, and their entire conversation was stupid, and everything that mankind had ever achieved was, ultimately, stupid. And, in a stupid way, that was kind of alright, as long as there was some more beer.
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##### *After the more serious stuff I've been posting lately, I thought I would follow up with something a little more lighthearted. However, if you haven't checked out my novel excerpts yet, please do. I welcome any comments or criticisms.*
##### *There's also still time to get a comment in on the most recent part of [SNOWBOUND](https://steemit.com/story/@griff/snowbound-an-original-interactive-story-pt-10 "SNOWBOUND") before I steamroll us into the ending, so if you've got a suggestion, throw it in.*