A Choice of Gods

"I don't care too much about what they believe or don't believe," said Jason. "Let's not get off the track. How could the People have known there was anybody here? John, you didn't, by any chance…"

"No," said John. "I am sure I didn't. I did my best not to give any inkling that I came from Earth. I'm almost positive I said nothing…"

"How, then? No other of our people have been there. If they had been, they would have told us. It wouldn't be something that anyone would ignore. All these years we have wondered what happened to the People. It is a question that never has been too far from our thoughts."

"Have you considered that the People may have heard it from some other intelligence? We've been at no pains, as we traveled in the galaxy, to hide where we are from or how we travel…"

"Then you think they could know, as well, about our star-traveling?"

"It is possible, " said John. "Remember, the People are star rovers, too. They have their ships. They may have visited many planets. I know they have made star trips. In the course of their traveling, they could have contacted some intelligences, probably among them some of the same we have contacted."

"Our contacts have not been too satisfactory."

"Nor, perhaps, have theirs. But if they developed any contact at all with the intelligences we have met, one of the first things they would learn would be that others like them had visited the planet and by an entirely different means than they used in getting there. These People are not stupid, Jason. They could put two and two together."

"But you heard none of this. Nothing to hint at it. All the time you spent on their planet, you heard nothing at all."

John shook his head. "Only that they finally had relocated Earth and some months since had sent out a survey ship to visit it. You must realize, however, that I was in no position to reach into their governmental or scientific circles. All I heard was what the common people knew or could read in their publications."

"You think if the government knew about it they might have kept their knowledge secret?"

"They could have. I don't know what the reason for secrecy could have been, but it's possible."

Soft feet came down the hall toward the room in which they sat.

"That's Red Cloud," said Jason. He rose and met his old friend as he came into the room.

"I'm sorry to rout you out, Horace," he said, "but they'll be here this morning."

"I would not," said Horace Red Cloud, "have missed this wake for all the world."

"Wake?"

"Certainly. The custom of old barbarians from across the sea. No Indian foolishness."

"You mean sitting with the dead."

"And this time," said Horace, "the dead are a planet and a people. My planet and my people."

"They may have changed," said Martha. "They've had thousands of years to acquire some different viewpoints, a new morality, to mature a little. It might be a different culture."

Red Cloud shook his head. "John, from what he told us, doesn't seem to think so. He spent some time with them and it's the same old culture, a little smarter, maybe, a little slicker in its operations. These kind never change. A machine does something to a man. It brutalizes him. It serves as a buffer between himself and his environment and he is the worst for it. It arouses an opportunistic instinct and makes possible a greed that makes a man inhuman."

"I'm frightened," Jason said, "if that's what you want to hear me say."

"I sent a canoe up the river," said Red Cloud, "to carry word to Stanley—I think that is his name. Although why we bother with him I do not understand."

"We're all in this together. He has a right to be here if he wants to come."

"Remember what that contraption said? We are a transient factor…"

"I suppose we are," said Jason. "The trilobites were a transient factor. So were the dinosaurs. I suppose the robots have the right to think—even good reason to believe—they'll outlive us all."

"If they do," said Red Cloud, "it will serve them right."

29

They arrived at dawn, their little craft landing softly in the cornfield. In coming to a landing, it knocked down and scattered a corn shock and smashed three pumpkins. The little band of four humans and one robot waited at the edge of the field. There were other robots about, Jason knew, but well hidden, peering out in awe at this machine that came down from the sky. When the hatch opened, two men stepped out. They were tall and heavy, dressed in plain gray pants and jackets, small caps on their heads.

Jason strode down to the field toward them. They came to meet him.

"You are Jason Whitney," said one of them. "The one who talked with us last night."

"Yes, I am," said Jason. "Welcome back to Earth."

"I am Reynolds," said one of them, holding out his hand. "My companion is Harrison."

Jason shook hands with the two of them.

"We are not armed," said Harrison, "but we have protection," It was almost as if the speech was ritual.

"You have no need of protection here," said Jason. "We are highly civilized. There is not an ounce of violence in all of us combined."

"One never knows," said Harrison. "After all, we have been apart for some thousands of years, time enough for change. Not an alien encounter, of course, but with some aspects that are not too far from it. You tried last night, Mr. Whitney, to throw us in confusion."

"I do not understand," said Jason.

"Your words are calculated to make us believe you had no notice of our coming. I don't know how you could have had, but it was apparent that you knew. You studiously showed no surprise and if you had not known, you would have been surprised. You attempted to make it seem our arrival was of little consequence."

"Should it be of consequence?" asked Jason.

"We can offer much to you."

"We are satisfied," said Jason, "with the little that we have."

"There was the beam," said Harrison. "You would not have had a beam out if you had not believed there was someone out there. There is very little traffic in this part of the galaxy."

"You gentlemen," said Jason, "seem to be sure enough of your deductions to allow for rudeness."

"We do not mean to be rude," Reynolds said. "We do think there should be understanding. You attempted to mislead us and it might clear the way for further talk if we let you know that we realize the situation."

"You are our guests," said Jason. "I don't intend to bicker with you. If you believe what you say, there is no possible way in which I could persuade you otherwise, and, indeed, no point in doing so."

"We were somewhat surprised," said Harrison, casually conversational, "to learn, a little time ago, there were humans still on Earth. We had realized, of course, that there must be robots, for whatever it was that swept us away did not sweep the robots.

But we had thought, of course, that there'd be no humans. We thought they got us all."

"They?" asked Jason. "Then you know who did it."

"Not at all," said Harrison. "In saying they, I may be guilty of personalizing some force that was not personal at all. We had hoped you might have some idea. We know you've traveled far. Much farther than we have."

So they knew, thought Jason, bleakly, about star-traveling. It had been too much to hope they wouldn't.

"Not I," he said. "I have never left the Earth. I have stayed at home."

"But others have."

"Yes," said Jason. "Many others."

"And they talk? Telepathy?"

"Yes, of course," said Jason. There was no use denying it. They had learned the entire story. Maybe not heard it, not been told it. Perhaps only bits and pieces. And they'd put it all together. A handful of tiny facts and they would have the story. A new ability, he wondered—a better psychology, a sense of hunch, prognostication?