And pretty boring if not just downright preposterous. Cleaner than clean, whiter than white. The only thing missing were the halos on the saints who had accomplished so much good.
“Inspirational,” I said when we finally reached the end of the exhibition.
“It is indeed.”
“And down this way?”
“The museum for students. Biologists can examine the plant life of our planet, geologists the strata and the schist.”
“Archeologists?”
“Alas, very little. The crudest of artifacts left by the long-dead indigenes who first settled here.”
“May we?”
“By all means. You see-fire sticks and crude pottery. A hand ax, a few arrow points. Scarcely worth preserving were we not so faithful to our role as recorders and archivists.”
“Nothing more?”
“Nothing.”
I dug the photograph from an inside pocket, took a deep breath-and passed it over.
“You may have heard that the warders in the Pentagon promised us favors if we helped them find this?”
“Did they indeed? I would believe nothing they said.”
He took the photograph and blinked at it, handed it back. “Just like them to lie and cause trouble for no reason.”
“Lie?”
“About this. It was brought here. I examined it myself. Not indigenous at all, couldn’t possibly be. Probably something broken off an old spaceship. Meaningless and worthless. Gone now.”
“Gone?” I fought to keep the despair from my voice.
“Discarded. Gone from Paradise. Non-existent. Men have no need of such rubbish therefore it is gone forever. Forget the worthless item Jim and we shall talk of far more interesting things. Music. You must tell me-do you write your own lyrics . . . ?”
CHAPTER 17
We were very silent on our return trip, scarcely aware of the manifold pleasures that rode with us in our Transport of Delight. Only behind the closed doors of our quarters did we let go. I nodded appreciatively as I listened while Floyd swore blasphemously and scatologically; he had a fine turn of phrase and went on for a long time without repeating himself.
“And I double that,” I said when lack of breath forced him to subside. “We have indeed been hard done by.”
“We have,” Steengo agreed. “But we have also been lied to.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that Heimskur was selling us a line of old camel cagal. More than half of his so-called history of science and nature was pure propaganda for the troops. If we can’t believe him about that-how can we believe him when he shovels a lot of bushwah about the artifact? Do you remember his last words?”
“No.”
“Neither do I. But I hope someone does. I imagine that you didn’t notice it-but I was doing a lot of head-scratching and nose-picking while we were doing that tour.”
Floyd wasn’t being bright today and gaped at the news. I smiled and put my index finger into my ear. “Come in ear in the sky. Do you read me?”
“No but I hear you,” Captain Tremearne said through my fingernail.
“Good. But more important-did you listen in to our guided tour?”
“All of it. Very boring. But I recorded it anyway, the way you asked.”
“The way Steengo asked-credit where credit is due. Would you be so kind as to play back the last speech about the artifact.”
“Coming up.” After some clattering and high-pitched voices whizzing by our aged guide sounded forth.
“Discarded. Gone from Paradise. Non-existent. Men have no need of such rubbish therefore it is gone forever.”
I copied it down and got it right after a couple of repeats. “That’s it. Thanks.”
“There,” Steengo said, tapping the paper. “Weasel wording. That tricky old devil was playing with us, knowing that we had some reason to be interested in the thing. He never said destroyed, not once. Discarded? That means it might be still around someplace. Gone from Paradise-could be anywhere else on this planet. But I particularly like the bit about men having no need for the thing.” He smiled a smile like a poker player laying down five Aces.
“If men have no need for it-what about women?”
“Women?” I felt my jaw hanging open and closed it with a clack. “What about them? There are only men here?”