They were all sorts and I’m not sure that any two were alike. There was one twenty feet from me who was as horrible as Wormface and amazingly like him-except that this creature’s grisly appearance did not inspire disgust. There were others almost human in appearance, although they were greatly in the minority. There was one really likely-looking chick as human as I am-except for iridescent skin and odd and skimpy notions of dress. She was so pretty that I would have sworn that the iridescence was just make-up-but I probably would have been wrong. I wondered in what language the diatribe was reaching her? Certainly not English.
Perhaps she felt my stare, for she looked around and unsmilingly examined me, as I might a chimpanzee in a cage. I guess the attraction wasn’t mutual.
There was every gradation from pseudo-wormface to the iridescent girl -not only the range between, but also way out in left field; some had their own private aquaria.
I could not tell how the invective affected them. The girl creature was taking it quietly, but what can you say about a walrus thing with octopus arms? If he twitches, is he angry? Or laughing? Or itches where the twitch is?
The Yankee-voiced spokesman let the wormface rave on.
Peewee was holding my hand. Now she grabbed my ear, tilted her face and whispered, “He talks nasty.” She sounded awed.
The wormface ended with a blast of hate that must have overtaxed the translator for instead of English we heard a wordless scream.
The Yankee voice said flatly, “But do you have anything to say in your defense?”
The scream was repeated, then the wormface became coherent. “I have made my defense-that no defense is necessary.”
The emotionless voice went on, to the Mother Thing. “Do you speak for them?”
She answered reluctantly, “My lord peers … I am forced to say . . . that I found them to be quite naughty.” She sounded grieved.
“You find against them?”
“I do.”
“Then you may not be heard. Such is the Law.”
” ‘Three Galaxies, One Law.’ I may not speak.”
The flat voice went on, “Will any witness speak favorably?”
There was silence.
That was my chance to be noble. We humans were their victims; we were in a position to speak up, point out that from their standpoint they hadn’t done anything wrong, and ask mercy-if they would promise to behave in the future.
Well, I didn’t. I’ve heard all the usual Sweetness and Light that kids get pushed at them-how they should always forgive, how there’s some good in the worst of us, etc. But when I see a black widow, I step on it; I don’t plead with it to be a good little spider and please stop poisoning people. A black widow spider can’t help it-but that’s the point.
The voice said to the wormfaces: “Is there any race anywhere which might speak for you? If so, it will be summoned.”
The spokesman wormface spat at the idea. That another race might be character witnesses for them disgusted him.
“So be it,” answered the Yankee voice. “Are the facts sufficient to permit a decision?”
Almost immediately the voice answered itself: “Yes.”
“What is the decision?”
Again it answered itself: “Their planet shall be rotated.”
It didn’t sound like much-shucks, all planets rotate-and the flat voice held no expression. But the verdict scared me. The whole room seemed to shudder.
The Mother Thing turned and came toward us. It was a long way but she reached us quickly. Peewee flung herself on her; the solid air that penned us solidified still more until we three were in a private room, a silvery hemisphere.
Peewee was trembling and gasping and the Mother Thing comforted her. When Peewee had control of herself, I said nervously, “Mother Thing? What did he mean? ‘Their planet shall be rotated.’ ”
She looked at me without letting go of Peewee and her great soft eyes were sternly sad. (“It means that their planet is tilted ninety degrees out of the space-time of your senses and mine.”)
Her voice sounded like a funeral dirge played softly on a flute. Yet the verdict did not seem tragic to me. I knew what she meant; her meaning was even clearer in Vegan than in English. If you rotate a plane figure about an axis in its plane-it disappears. It is no longer in a plane and Mr. A. Square of Flatland is permanently out of touch with it.
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