“Why stupid? I note that its master with the historybook name claims that it is bright.”
Greenberg smiled. “He is prejudiced. I talked with it, boss. It’s stupid.”
“I can’t see that you have established that. Assuming that an e.-t. is stupid because he can’t speak our language well is like assuming that an Italian is illiterate because he speaks broken English. A non-sequitur.”
“But look, boss, no hands. Maximum intelligence lower than monkeys. Maybe as high as a dog. Though not likely.”
“Well, I’ll concede that you are orthodox in xenological theory, but that is all. Some day that assumption is going to rise up and slap the classic xenist in the face. We’ll find a civilization that doesn’t need to pick at things with patty-paws, evolved beyond it.”
“Want to bet?”
“No. Where is this ‘Lummox’ now?”
Greenberg looked flustered. “Boss, this report I am about to make is now in the microfilm lab. It should be on your desk any minute.”
“Okay, so you were on the ball-this time. Let’s have it.”
“I got chummy with the local judge and asked him to keep me advised. Of course they couldn’t throw this critter into the local Bastille; in fact they did not have anything strong enough to hold him. . . so they had learned, the hard way. And nothing could be built in a hurry that would be strong enough. . . believe me, that cage he crushed out of was strong. But the local police chief got a brain storm; they had an empty reservoir with sides about thirty feet high, reinforced concrete. . . part of the fire system. So they built a ramp and herded him down into it, then removed the ramp. It looked like a good dodge; the creature isn’t built for jumping.”
“Sounds okay.”
“Yes, but that isn’t all. Judge O’Farrell told me that the chief of police was so jittery that he decided not to wait for departmental okay; he went ahead with the execution.
“What?”
“Let me finish. He did not tell anybody but-accidentally-on-purpose the intake valve was opened-that night and the reservoir filled up. In the morning there was Lummox, on the bottom. So Chief Dreiser assumed that his ‘accident’ had been successful and that he had drowned the beast.”
“So?”
“It did not bother Lummox at all. He had been under water several hours, but when the water drained off, he woke up, stood up, and said, ‘Good morning.'”
“Amphibious, probably. What steps have you taken to put a stop to this high-handedness?”
“Just a second, sir. Dreiser knew that firearms and explosives were useless. . . you saw the transcript. . . at least of power safe enough to use inside a town. So he tried poison. Knowing nothing about the creature, he used half a dozen sorts in quantities sufficient for a regiment and concealed in several kinds of food.”
“Well?”
“Lummox gobbled them all. They didn’t even make him sleepy; in fact it seemed to stimulate his appetite, for the next thing he did was to eat the intake valve and the reservoir started to fill up again. They had to shut it off from the pumping station.”
Kiku snickered. “I’m beginning to like this Lummox. Did you say he ate the valve? What was it made of?”
“I don’t know. The usual alloy, I suppose.”
“Hmm.. . seems to like a bit of roughage in its diet. Perhaps it has a craw like a bird.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“What did the Chief do next?”
“Nothing as yet. I asked O’Farrell to impress on Dreiser that he was likely to end up in a penal colony thirty light-years from Westville if he persisted in bucking the department. So he is waiting and trying to figure out his problem. His latest notion is to cast Lummox in concrete and let him die at his own convenience. But O’Farrell put the nix on that one-inhumane.”
“So Lummox is still in the reservoir, waiting for us to act, eh?”
“I believe so, sir. He was yesterday.”
“Well, be can wait there, I suppose, until other action can be taken.” Mr. Kiku picked up Greenberg’s shortform report and recommendation.