The Mote In God's Eye

Horvath's skin crawled. When an alien hand touched his elbow he jumped and gasped.

"What's the matter, Doctor? Surely you have animals evolved for cities."

"No," said Horvath.

"Rats," said Sally Fowler. "And there's a breed of lice that lives only on human beings. But I think that's all."

"We have a good many," said Horvath's Motie. "Perhaps we can show you a few... though they're shy."

At a distance the small black beasts were indistinguishable from rats. Hardy snapped a picture of a swarm that was scrambling for cover. He hoped to develop a blowup later. There was a large, flattish beast, almost invisible until they were right in front of it. It was the color and pattern of the brick it was clinging to.

"Like a chameleon," Sally said. Then she had to explain chameleons.

"There's another," Sally's Motie said. She pointed out a concrete-colored animal clinging to a gray wall. "Don't try to disturb it. It has teeth."

"Where do they get their food?"

"Roof gardens. Though they can eat meat. And there's an insectivore..." She led them to a "rooftop" two meters above street level. There were grain and fruit trees gone riot, and a small, armless biped that fired a coiled tongue over a meter long. It looked as if it had a mouthful of walnuts.

Bitter cold met them on the sixth floor. The sky was leaden gray. Snow blew in flurries across an infinity of icy tundra. Hardy wanted to stay, for there wag considerable life in that cold hell; bushes and tiny trees growing through the ice, a large, placid thing that ignored them, a furry, hopping snowshoe rabbit with dish-shaped ears and no front legs. They almost had to use force to get Hardy out; but he would have frozen in there.

Di

Re

"Government is Mediators meeting to talk. It might be anywhere. The decision makers live where they like, and they generally consider themselves bound by the agreements of their Mediators. You'll see some of our monuments. As for our way of life, you've been studying that for some time."

"What about the way of life of a White?" Hardy asked. Then his mouth opened in a bone-cracking yawn.

"He's right," Hardy's Motie broke in. "We should be able to see a giver of orders' family residence at work. It may be that we can get permission-" The alien broke into a high gabble.

The Moties considered. Sally's Motie said, "It should be possible. We'll see. In the meantime, let's call it a day."

For the time change had caught the humans. Doctors Horvath and Hardy yawned, blinked, looked surprised, made their excuses, and departed. Bury was still going strong. Re

But the party was breaking up. Sally said her good nights and went upstairs, swaying noticeably. Re

A spiral stair ran up the tower. Re

Probably they were. He continued to his room.

Re

It was the only change-no, the room was warmer. It had been too cold last night. On a hunch, he crossed the room and checked the Moties' sleeping alcove. Yes, it was chilly in there.

Re

The bathroom-the toilet was different. Just as he had sketched it. Wrong; there wasn't any water in it. And no flush.

What the hell, there was only one way to test a toilet.

When he looked, the bowl was sparkling clean. He poured a glass of water into it and watched it run away without leaving a drop. The bowl was a frictionless surface.

Have to mention this to Bury, he thought. There were bases on airless moons, and worlds where water, or energy for recycling it, was scarce. Tomorrow. He was too sleepy now.

The rotation period of Levant was 28 hours, 40.2 minutes. Bury had adjusted well enough to MacArthur's standard day, but it is always easier to adjust to a longer day than to a shorter.

He waited while his Fyunch(click) sent their Brown for coffee. It made him miss Nabil... and wonder if the Brown had more of Nabil's skills. He had already seriously underestimated the power of the Brown-and-whites. Apparently his Motie could commandeer any vehicle on Mote Prime, whether or not it had been built yet; even so, he was an agent for someone Bury had never seen. The situation was complex.

The Brown returned with coffee and another pot, something that poured pale brown and did not steam. "Poisonous? Very likely," his Fyunch(click) said. "The pollutants might harm you, or the bacteria. It's water, from outside."

It was not Bury's habit to come too quickly to business.

An overeager businessman, he felt, was easily gulled. He was not aware of the thousands of years of tradition behind his opinion. Accordingly he and his Mode liaison talked of many things ..."'Of shoes and ships and sealing wax, of cabbages and kings,'" he quoted, and he identified all of these, to his Motie's evident interest. The Motie was particularly interested in the various forms of human government.

"But I don't think I should read this Lewis Carroll," he said, "until I know considerably more of human culture."

Eventually Bury raised the subject of luxuries again.

"Luxuries. Yes, I agree, in principle," said Bury's Motie. "If a luxury travels well, it can pay for itself merely in diminished fuel costs. That must be true even with your Crazy Eddie Drive. But in practice there are restrictions between us."

Bury had already thought of a few. He said, "Tell me of them."

"Coffee. Teas. Wines. I presume you deal in wines also?"

"Wine is forbidden to my religion." Bury dealt indirectly in the transfer of wines from world to world, but he could not believe the Moties would want to deal in wines.

"It doesn't matter. We could not tolerate alcohol, and we do not like the taste of coffee. The same would probably apply to your other luxury foods, though they may be worth a try."

"And you do not yourselves deal in luxuries?"

"No. In power over others, in safety, in durability of customs and dynasties... as usual, I speak for the givers of orders. We deal in these, for their benefit, but we also deal in diplomacy. We trade durable goods and necessities, skills- What do you think of our works of art?"