The extension makes it impossible for any human being to see anything of a Palainian except the fluid, amorphous, ever-changing thing which is his three-dimensional aspect of the moment; makes any attempt at description or portraiture completely futile. Virgil Samms stared at the Palainian; tried to see what it looked like. He could not tell whether it had eyes or antennae; legs, arms, or tentacles, teeth or beaks, talons or claws or feet; skin, scales, or feathers. It did not even remotely resemble anything that the Lensman had ever seen, sensed, or imagined. He gave up; sent out an exploring thought.
“I am Virgil Samms, a Tellurian,” he sent out slowly, carefully, after he made contact with the outer fringes of the creature’s mind, “Is it possible for you, sir or madam, to give me a moment of your time?”
“Eminently possible, Lensman Samms, since my time is of completely negligible value.” The monster’s mind flashed into accord with Samms’ with a speed and precision that m-i !e him gasp. That is, a part of it became en rapport with a part of his: years were to pass before even the First Lensman would know much more about the Palainian than he learned in that first contact; no human beings except the Children of the Lens ever were to understand even dimly the labyrinthine intricacies, the paradoxical complexities, of the Palainian mind.
“ ‘Madam’ might be approximately correct,” the native’s thought went smoothly on.
“My name, in your symbology, is Twelfth Pilinipsi; by education, training, and occupation I am a Chief Dexitroboper. I perceive that you are indeed a native of that hellish Planet
Three, upon which it was assumed for so long that no life could possibly exist. But communication with your race has been almost impossible heretofore
. . Ali, the Lens. A remarkable device, truly. I would slay you and take it, except for the obvious fact that only you can possess it.”
“What!” Dismay and consternation flooded Samms’ mind. “You already know the Lens?”
“No. Yours is the first that any of us has perceived. The mechanics, the mathematics, and the basic philosophy of the thing, however, are quite clear.”
“What! Samms exclaimed again. “You can, then, produce Lenses yourselves?”
“By no means, any more than you Tellurians can. There are magnitudes, variables, determinants, and forces involved which no Palainian will ever be able to develop, to generate, or to control.”
“I see.” The Lensman pulled himself together. For a First Lensman he was making a wretched showing indeed. . .
“Far from it, sir,” the monstrosity assured him. “Considering the strangeness of the environment into which you have voluntarily flung yourself so senselessly, your mind is well integrated and strong. Otherwise it would have shattered. If our positions were reversed, the mere thought of the raging heat of your Earth would – come no closer, please!” The thing vanished; reappeared many yards away. Her thoughts were a shudder of loathing, of terror, of sheer detestation. “But to get on: I have been attempting to analyze and to understand your purpose, without success. That failure is not too surprising, of course, since my mind is weak and my total power is small. Explain your mission, please, as simply as you can.”
Weak? Small? In view of the power the monstrosity had- just shown, Samms probed for irony, for sarcasm or pretense. There was no trace of anything of the kind.
He tried, then, for fifteen solid minutes, to explain the Galactic Patrol, but at the end the Palainian’s only reaction was one of blank non-comprehension.
“I fail completely to perceive the use of, or the need for, such an organization,” she stated flatly. “This altruismwhat good is it? It is unthinkable that any other race would take any risks or exert any effort for us, any more than we would for them. Ignore and be ignored, as you must already know, is the Prime Tenet.”
“But there is a little commerce between our worlds; your people did not ignore our psychologists;, and you are not ignoring me,” Samms pointed out.
“Oh, none of us is perfect,” Pilinipsi replied, with a mental shrug and what seemed to be an airy wave of a multi-tentacled member. “That ideal, like any other, can only be approached asymptotically, never reached; and I, being somewhat foolish and silly, as well as weak and vacillant, am much less perfect than most.”
Flabbergasted, Samms tried a new tack. “I might be able to make my position clearer if I knew you better. I know your name, and that you are a woman of Palain Seven”-it is a measure of Virgil Samms’ real size that he actually thought “woman”, and not merely “female’ =”but all I can understand of your occupation is the name you have given it. What does a Chief Dexitroboper do?”
“She-or he—or, perhaps, it . . . is a supervisor of the work of dexitroboping.” The thought, while perfectly clear, was completely meaningless to Samms, and the Palainian knew it. She tried again. “Dexitroboping has to do with . . . nourishment? No-with nutrients.”
“Ah. Farming-agriculture,” Samms thought; but this time it was the Palainian who could not grasp the concept. “Hunting? Fishing?” No better. “Show me, then, please.”
She tried; but demonstration, too, was useless; for to Samms the Palainian’s movements were pointless indeed. The peculiarly flowing subtly changing thing darted back and forth, rose and fell, appeared and disappeared; undergoing the while-cyclic changes in shape and form and size, in aspect and texture. It was now spiny, now tentacular, now scaly, now covered with peculiarly repellent feather-like fronds, each oozing a crimson slime. But it apparently did not do anything whatever. The net result of all its activity was, apparently, zero.
“There, it is done.” Pilinipsi’s thought again came clear. “You observed and understood? You did not. That is strange -baffling. Since the Lens did improve communication and understanding tremendously, I hoped that it might extend to the physical as well. But there must be some basic, fundamental difference, the nature of which is at present obscure. I wonder . . . if I had a Lens, too-but no . . .”
“But yes!” Samms broke in, eagerly. “Why don’t you go to Arisia and be tested for one? You have a magnificent, a really tremendous mind. It is of Lensman grade in every respect except one-you simply don’t want to use it!”
“Me? Go to Arisia?” The thought would have been, in a Tellurian, a laugh of scorn, “How utterly silly-how abysmally stupid! There would be personal discomfort, quite possibly personal danger, and two Lenses would be little or no better than one in resolving differences between our two continua, which are probably in fact incommensurable.”
“Well, then,” Samms thought, almost viciously, “can you introduce me to someone who is stupider, sillier, and more foolish than you are?”
“Not here on Pluto, no.” The Palainian took no offense. “That was why it was I who interviewed the earlier Tellurian visitors and why I am now conversing with you. The others avoided you.”
“I see.” Samms’ thought was grim. “How about the home planet, then?”
“Ah. Undoubtedly. In fact, there is a group, a club, of such persons. None of them is, of course, as insane-as aberrant -as you are, but they are all much more so than I am.”
“Who of this club would be most interested in becoming a Lensman?”
“Tallick was the least stable member of the New-Thought Club when I left .Seven;
Kragzex a close second. There may of course have been changes since then. But I cannot believe that even Tallick-even Tallick at his outrageous worstwould be crazy enough to join your Patrol.”
“Nevertheless, I must see him myself. Can you and will you give me a chart of a routing from here to Palain Seven?”
“I can and I will. Nothing you have thought will be of any use to me; that will be the easiest and quickest way of getting rid of you.” The Palainian spread a completely detailed chart in Samms mind, snapped the telepathic line, and went unconcernedly about her incomprehensible business.
Samms, mind reeling, made his way back to his boat and took off. And as the light-years and the parsecs screamed past, he sank deeper and deeper into a welter of unproductive speculation. What were-really-those Palainians? How could they-really-exist as they seemed to exist? And why had some of that dexitroboper’s-whatever that meant!thoughts come in so beautifully sharp and clear and plain while others . . .?
He knew that his Lens would receive and would convert into his own symbology any thought or message, however coded or garbled or however sent or transmitted. The Lens was not at fault; his symbology was There were conceptsthings-actualities-occurrences-so foreign to- Tellurian experience that no referents existed. Hence the human mind lacked the channels, the mechanisms; to grasp them.
He and Roderick Kinnison had glibly discussed the possibility of encountering forms of intelligent life so alien that humanity would have no point whatever of contact with them. After what Samms had just gone through, that was more of a possibility than either he or his friend had believed; and he hoped grimly, as be considered how seriously this partial contact with the Palainian had upset him, that the possibility would never become a fact.