“But why will we be using code?” Dr. Wald wanted to know. “It implies that we think somebody might overhear ussomebody else with a Dirac. That could be very messy.”
“It could indeed,” Weinbaum said. “But we’ll find out, I imagine. Give her another spin, Thor.”
“Shall I try for a picture this time?”
Weinbaum nodded. A moment later, he was looking squarely into the green-skinned face of something that looked like an animated traffic signal with a helmet on it.
Though the creature had no mouth, the Dirac speaker was saying quite clearly, “Hello, Chief. This is Thammos NGC
2287, transmission date Gor 60, 302 by my calendar, July 2, 2973 by yours. This is a lousy little planet. Everything stinks of oxygen, just like Earth. But the natives accept us and that’s the important thing. We’ve got your genius safely born. Detailed report coming later by paw. NGC 2287
Thammos out.”
“I wish I knew my New General Catalogue better,” Weinbaum said. “Isn’t that M 41 in Canis Major, the one with the red star in the middle? And we’ll be using non-humanoids there! What was that creature, anyhow? Never mind, spin her again.”
Dr. Wald spun her again. Weinbaum, already feeling a little dizzy, had given up taking notes. That could come later, all that could come later. Now he wanted only scenes and voices, more and more scenes and voices from the future. They were better than aquavit, even with a beer chaser.
4
THE INDOCTRINATION tape ended, and Krasna touched a button. The Dirac screen darkened, and folded silently back into the desk.