"Yeees," says Herbert, on a roll now. He didn't come into this thinking of this at all, but he knows he's right, now, he doesn't even need Foster's input. It's irrelevant right now, before he's been made into what Herbert requires through his own science, still unfinished.

"The serum will not only, in its new form, rejuvenate your brain, but in addition will sharpen your mind like my own diluted formula." An ideal assistant: one raised forcibly to be closer to his own level. "With you at a level you could never have achieved on your own: what advancements in necromantic science might we make? What new discoveries?--I will shape you, your course." It's strange, he realises, he'd thought before that to work with someone properly he'd need to respect them. It turns out all he needs is an assurance they can be controlled enough to trust.

If he manages this correctly, he'll have an colleague he never needs to worry about.