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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..261ca34 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #51193 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/51193) diff --git a/old/51193-h.zip b/old/51193-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 61927c2..0000000 --- a/old/51193-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/51193-h/51193-h.htm b/old/51193-h/51193-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index a0d180b..0000000 --- a/old/51193-h/51193-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1403 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=us-ascii" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of Pictures Don't Lie, by Katherine Maclean. - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; -} - -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} -hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -.caption {font-weight: bold;} - -/* Images */ -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; -} - -div.titlepage { - text-align: center; - page-break-before: always; - page-break-after: always; -} - -div.titlepage p { - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0em; - font-weight: bold; - line-height: 1.5; - margin-top: 3em; -} - -.ph1, .ph2, .ph3, .ph4 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; } -.ph1 { font-size: xx-large; margin: .67em auto; } -.ph2 { font-size: x-large; margin: .75em auto; } -.ph3 { font-size: large; margin: .83em auto; } -.ph4 { font-size: medium; margin: 1.12em auto; } - - - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Pictures Don't Lie, by Katherine MacLean - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Pictures Don't Lie - -Author: Katherine MacLean - -Release Date: February 12, 2016 [EBook #51193] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PICTURES DON'T LIE *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/cover.jpg" width="364" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="titlepage"> -<h1>Pictures Don't Lie</h1> - -<p>By KATHERINE MacLEAN</p> - -<p>Illustrated by MARTIN SCHNEIDER</p> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Galaxy Science Fiction August 1951.<br /> -Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br /> -the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus1.jpg" width="600" height="282" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph3">... Pictures, that is, that one can test and measure.<br /> -And these pictures positively, absolutely could not lie!</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>The man from the <i>News</i> asked, "What do you think of the aliens, Mister -Nathen? Are they friendly? Do they look human?"</p> - -<p>"Very human," said the thin young man.</p> - -<p>Outside, rain sleeted across the big windows with a steady faint -drumming, blurring and dimming the view of the airfield where <i>they</i> -would arrive. On the concrete runways, the puddles were pockmarked -with rain, and the grass growing untouched between the runways of the -unused field glistened wetly, bending before gusts of wind.</p> - -<p>Back at a respectful distance from where the huge spaceship would -land were the gray shapes of trucks, where TV camera crews huddled -inside their mobile units, waiting. Farther back in the deserted sandy -landscape, behind distant sandy hills, artillery was ringed in a great -circle, and in the distance across the horizon, bombers stood ready at -airfields, guarding the world against possible treachery from the first -alien ship ever to land from space.</p> - -<p>"Do you know anything about their home planet?" asked the man from -<i>Herald</i>.</p> - -<p>The <i>Times</i> man stood with the others, listening absently, thinking of -questions, but reserving them. Joseph R. Nathen, the thin young man -with the straight black hair and the tired lines on his face, was being -treated with respect by his interviewers. He was obviously on edge, and -they did not want to harry him with too many questions to answer at -once. They wanted to keep his good will. Tomorrow he would be one of -the biggest celebrities ever to appear in headlines.</p> - -<p>"No, nothing directly."</p> - -<p>"Any ideas or deductions?" <i>Herald</i> persisted.</p> - -<p>"Their world must be Earth-like to them," the weary-looking young man -answered uncertainly. "The environment evolves the animal. But only in -relative terms, of course." He looked at them with a quick glance and -then looked away evasively, his lank black hair beginning to cling to -his forehead with sweat. "That doesn't necessarily mean anything."</p> - -<p>"Earth-like," muttered a reporter, writing it down as if he had noticed -nothing more in the reply.</p> - -<p>The <i>Times</i> man glanced at the <i>Herald</i>, wondering if he had noticed, -and received a quick glance in exchange.</p> - -<p>The <i>Herald</i> asked Nathen, "You think they are dangerous, then?"</p> - -<p>It was the kind of question, assuming much, which usually broke -reticence and brought forth quick facts—when it hit the mark. They all -knew of the military precautions, although they were not supposed to -know.</p> - -<p>The question missed. Nathen glanced out the window vaguely. "No, I -wouldn't say so."</p> - -<p>"You think they are friendly, then?" said the <i>Herald</i>, equally -positive on the opposite tack.</p> - -<p>A fleeting smile touched Nathen's lips. "Those I know are."</p> - -<p>There was no lead in this direction, and they had to get the basic -facts of the story before the ship came. The <i>Times</i> asked, "What led -up to your contacting them?"</p> - -<p>Nathen answered after a hesitation. "Static. Radio static. The Army -told you my job, didn't they?"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The Army had told them nothing at all. The officer who had conducted -them in for the interview stood glowering watchfully, as if he objected -by instinct to telling anything to the public.</p> - -<p>Nathen glanced at him doubtfully. "My job is radio decoder for the -Department of Military Intelligence. I use a directional pickup, tune -in on foreign bands, record any scrambled or coded messages I hear, and -build automatic decoders and descramblers for all the basic scramble -patterns."</p> - -<p>The officer cleared his throat, but said nothing.</p> - -<p>The reporters smiled, noting that down.</p> - -<p>Security regulations had changed since arms inspection had been -legalized by the U.N. Complete information being the only public -security against secret rearmament, spying and prying had come to seem -a public service. Its aura had changed. It was good public relations to -admit to it.</p> - -<p>Nathen continued, "I started directing the pickup at stars in my -spare time. There's radio noise from stars, you know. Just stuff that -sounds like spatter static, and an occasional squawk. People have been -listening to it for a long time, and researching, trying to work out -why stellar radiation on those bands comes in such jagged bursts. It -didn't seem natural."</p> - -<p>He paused and smiled uncertainly, aware that the next thing he would -say was the thing that would make him famous—an idea that had come to -him while he listened—an idea as simple and as perfect as the one that -came to Newton when he saw the apple fall.</p> - -<p>"I decided it wasn't natural. I tried decoding it."</p> - -<p>Hurriedly he tried to explain it away and make it seem obvious. "You -see, there's an old intelligence trick, speeding up a message on a -record until it sounds just like that, a short squawk of static, and -then broadcasting it. Undergrounds use it. I'd heard that kind of -screech before."</p> - -<p>"You mean they broadcast at us in code?" asked the <i>News</i>.</p> - -<p>"It's not exactly code. All you need to do is record it and slow it -down. They're not broadcasting at us. If a star has planets, inhabited -planets, and there is broadcasting between them, they would send it on -a tight beam to save power." He looked for comprehension. "You know, -like a spotlight. Theoretically, a tight beam can go on forever without -losing power. But aiming would be difficult from planet to planet. You -can't expect a beam to stay on target, over such distances, more than a -few seconds at a time. So they'd naturally compress each message into -a short half-second or one-second-length package and send it a few -hundred times in one long blast to make sure it is picked up during -the instant the beam swings across the target."</p> - -<p>He was talking slowly and carefully, remembering that this explanation -was for the newspapers. "When a stray beam swings through our section -of space, there's a sharp peak in noise level from that direction. -The beams are swinging to follow their own planets at home, and -the distance between there and here exaggerates the speed of swing -tremendously, so we wouldn't pick up more than a bip as it passes."</p> - -<p>"How do you account for the number of squawks coming in?" the <i>Times</i> -asked. "Do stellar systems rotate on the plane of the Galaxy?" It was a -private question; he spoke impulsively from interest and excitement.</p> - -<p>The radio decoder grinned, the lines of strain vanishing from his face -for a moment. "Maybe we're intercepting everybody's telephone calls, -and the whole Galaxy is swarming with races that spend all day yacking -at each other over the radio. Maybe the human type is standard model."</p> - -<p>"It would take something like that," the <i>Times</i> agreed. They smiled at -each other.</p> - -<p>The <i>News</i> asked, "How did you happen to pick up television instead of -voices?"</p> - -<p>"Not by accident," Nathen explained patiently. "I'd recognized a -scanning pattern, and I wanted pictures. Pictures are understandable in -any language."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Near the interviewers, a Senator paced back and forth, muttering -his memorized speech of welcome and nervously glancing out the wide -streaming windows into the gray sleeting rain.</p> - -<p>Opposite the windows of the long room was a small raised platform -flanked by the tall shapes of TV cameras and sound pickups on booms, -and darkened floodlights, arranged and ready for the Senator to make -his speech of welcome to the aliens and the world. A shabby radio -sending set stood beside it without a case to conceal its parts, two -cathode television tubes flickering nakedly on one side and the speaker -humming on the other. A vertical panel of dials and knobs jutted up -before them and a small hand-mike sat ready on the table before the -panel. It was connected to a boxlike, expensively cased piece of -equipment with "Radio Lab, U.S. Property" stenciled on it.</p> - -<p>"I recorded a couple of package screeches from Sagittarius and began -working on them," Nathen added. "It took a couple of months to find -the synchronizing signals and set the scanners close enough to the -right time to even get a pattern. When I showed the pattern to the -Department, they gave me full time to work on it, and an assistant to -help. It took eight months to pick out the color bands, and assign them -the right colors, to get anything intelligible on the screen."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The shabby-looking mess of exposed parts was the original receiver that -they had labored over for ten months, adjusting and readjusting to -reduce the maddening rippling plaids of unsynchronized color scanners -to some kind of sane picture.</p> - -<p>"Trial and error," said Nathen, "but it came out all right. The wide -band-spread of the squawks had suggested color TV from the beginning."</p> - -<p>He walked over and touched the set. The speaker bipped slightly and -the gray screen flickered with a flash of color at the touch. The set -was awake and sensitive, tuned to receive from the great interstellar -spaceship which now circled the atmosphere.</p> - -<p>"We wondered why there were so many bands, but when we got the set -working, and started recording and playing everything that came in, we -found we'd tapped something like a lending library line. It was all -fiction, plays."</p> - -<p>Between the pauses in Nathen's voice, the <i>Times</i> found himself -unconsciously listening for the sound of roaring, swiftly approaching -rocket jets.</p> - -<p>The <i>Post</i> asked, "How did you contact the spaceship?"</p> - -<p>"I scanned and recorded a film copy of <i>Rite of Spring</i>, the -Disney-Stravinsky combination, and sent it back along the same line we -were receiving from. Just testing. It wouldn't get there for a good -number of years, if it got there at all, but I thought it would please -the library to get a new record in.</p> - -<p>"Two weeks later, when we caught and slowed a new batch of recordings, -we found an answer. It was obviously meant for us. It was a flash of -the Disney being played to a large audience, and then the audience -sitting and waiting before a blank screen. The signal was very clear -and loud. We'd intercepted a spaceship. They were asking for an encore, -you see. They liked the film and wanted more...."</p> - -<p>He smiled at them in sudden thought. "You can see them for yourself. -It's all right down the hall where the linguists are working on the -automatic translator."</p> - -<p>The listening officer frowned and cleared his throat, and the thin -young man turned to him quickly. "No security reason why they should -not see the broadcasts, is there? Perhaps you should show them." He -said to the reporters reassuringly, "It's right down the hall. You -will be informed the moment the spaceship approaches."</p> - -<p>The interview was very definitely over. The lank-haired, nervous young -man turned away and seated himself at the radio set while the officer -swallowed his objections and showed them dourly down the hall to a -closed door.</p> - -<p>They opened it and fumbled into a darkened room crowded with empty -folding chairs, dominated by a glowing bright screen. The door closed -behind them, bringing total darkness.</p> - -<p>There was the sound of reporters fumbling their way into seats around -him, but the <i>Times</i> man remained standing, aware of an enormous -surprise, as if he had been asleep and wakened to find himself in the -wrong country.</p> - -<p>The bright colors of the double image seemed the only real thing in the -darkened room. Even blurred as they were, he could see that the action -was subtly different, the shapes subtly not right.</p> - -<p><i>He was looking at aliens.</i></p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The impression was of two humans disguised, humans moving oddly, -half-dancing, half-crippled. Carefully, afraid the images would go -away, he reached up to his breast pocket, took out his polarized -glasses, rotated one lens at right angles to the other and put them on.</p> - -<p>Immediately, the two beings came into sharp focus, real and solid, -and the screen became a wide, illusively near window through which he -watched them.</p> - -<p>They were conversing with each other in a gray-walled room, discussing -something with restrained excitement. The large man in the green tunic -closed his purple eyes for an instant at something the other said, and -grimaced, making a motion with his fingers as if shoving something away -from him.</p> - -<p>Mellerdrammer.</p> - -<p>The second, smaller, with yellowish-green eyes, stepped closer, talking -more rapidly in a lower voice. The first stood very still, not trying -to interrupt.</p> - -<p>Obviously, the proposal was some advantageous treachery, and he wanted -to be persuaded. The <i>Times</i> groped for a chair and sat down.</p> - -<p>Perhaps gesture is universal; desire and aversion, a leaning forward or -a leaning back, tension, relaxation. Perhaps these actors were masters. -The scenes changed, a corridor, a parklike place in what he began to -realize was a spaceship, a lecture room. There were others talking -and working, speaking to the man in the green tunic, and never was it -unclear what was happening or how they felt.</p> - -<p>They talked a flowing language with many short vowels and shifts of -pitch, and they gestured in the heat of talk, their hands moving with -an odd lagging difference of motion, not slow, but somehow drifting.</p> - -<p>He ignored the language, but after a time the difference in motion -began to arouse his interest. Something in the way they walked....</p> - -<p>With an effort he pulled his mind from the plot and forced his -attention to the physical difference. Brown hair in short silky crew -cuts, varied eye colors, the colors showing clearly because their -irises were very large, their round eyes set very widely apart in -tapering light-brown faces. Their necks and shoulders were thick in a -way that would indicate unusual strength for a human, but their wrists -were narrow and their fingers long and thin and delicate.</p> - -<p>There seemed to be more than the usual number of fingers.</p> - -<p>Since he came in, a machine had been whirring and a voice muttering -beside him. He called his attention from counting their fingers and -looked around. Beside him sat an alert-looking man wearing earphones, -watching and listening with hawklike concentration. Beside him was a -tall streamlined box. From the screen came the sound of the alien -language. The man abruptly flipped a switch on the box, muttered a word -into a small hand-microphone and flipped the switch back with nervous -rapidity.</p> - -<p>He reminded the <i>Times</i> man of the earphoned interpreters at the UN. -The machine was probably a vocal translator and the mutterer a linguist -adding to its vocabulary. Near the screen were two other linguists -taking notes.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The <i>Times</i> remembered the Senator pacing in the observatory room, -rehearsing his speech of welcome. The speech would not be just -the empty pompous gesture he had expected. It would be translated -mechanically and understood by the aliens.</p> - -<p>On the other side of the glowing window that was the stereo screen, the -large protagonist in the green tunic was speaking to a pilot in a gray -uniform. They stood in a brightly lit canary-yellow control room in a -spaceship.</p> - -<p>The <i>Times</i> tried to pick up the thread of the plot. Already he was -interested in the fate of the hero, and liked him. That was the effect -of good acting, probably, for part of the art of acting is to win -affection from the audience, and this actor might be the matinee idol -of whole solar systems.</p> - -<p>Controlled tension, betraying itself by a jerk of the hands, a -too-quick answer to a question. The uniformed one, not suspicious, -turned his back, busying himself at some task involving a map lit with -glowing red points, his motions sharing the same fluid dragging grace -of the others, as if they were underwater, or on a slow motion film. -The other was watching a switch, a switch set into a panel, moving -closer to it, talking casually—background music coming and rising in -thin chords of tension.</p> - -<p>There was a closeup of the alien's face watching the switch, and the -<i>Times</i> noted that his ears were symmetrically half-circles, almost -perfect with no earholes visible. The voice of the uniformed one -answered, a brief word in a preoccupied deep voice. His back was still -turned. The other glanced at the switch, moving closer to it, talking -casually, the switch coming closer and closer stereoscopically. It was -in reach, filling the screen. His hand came into view, darting out, -closed over the switch—</p> - -<p>There was a sharp clap of sound and his hand opened in a frozen -shape of pain. Beyond him, as his gaze swung up, stood the figure of -the uniformed officer, unmoving, a weapon rigid in his hand, in the -startled position in which he had turned and fired, watching with -widening eyes as the man in the green tunic swayed and fell.</p> - -<p>The tableau held, the uniformed one drooping, looking down at his hand -holding the weapon which had killed, and music began to build in from -the background. Just for an instant, the room and the things within -it flashed into one of those bewildering color changes which were the -bane of color television, and switched to a color negative of itself, a -green man standing in a violet control room, looking down at the body -of a green man in a red tunic. It held for less than a second; then the -color band alternator fell back into phase and the colors reversed to -normal.</p> - -<p>Another uniformed man came and took the weapon from the limp hand of -the other, who began to explain dejectedly in a low voice while the -music mounted and covered his words and the screen slowly went blank, -like a window that slowly filmed over with gray fog.</p> - -<p>The music faded.</p> - -<p>In the dark, someone clapped appreciatively.</p> - -<p>The earphoned man beside the <i>Times</i> shifted his earphones back from -his ears and spoke briskly. "I can't get any more. Either of you want a -replay?"</p> - -<p>There was a short silence until the linguist nearest the set said, "I -guess we've squeezed that one dry. Let's run the tape where Nathen and -that ship radio boy are kidding around CQing and tuning their beams in -closer. I have a hunch the boy is talking routine ham talk and giving -the old radio count—one-two-three-testing."</p> - -<p>There was some fumbling in the semi-dark and then the screen came to -life again.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>It showed a flash of an audience sitting before a screen and gave a -clipped chord of some familiar symphony. "Crazy about Stravinsky and -Mozart," remarked the earphoned linguist to the <i>Times</i>, resettling his -earphones. "Can't stand Gershwin. Can you beat that?" He turned his -attention back to the screen as the right sequence came on.</p> - -<p>The <i>Post</i>, who was sitting just in front of him, turned to the <i>Times</i> -and said, "Funny how much they look like people." He was writing, -making notes to telephone his report. "What color hair did that -character have?"</p> - -<p>"I didn't notice." He wondered if he should remind the reporter that -Nathen had said he assigned the color bands on guess, choosing the -colors that gave the most plausible images. The guests, when they -arrived, could turn out to be bright green with blue hair. Only the -gradations of color in the picture were sure, only the similarities and -contrasts, the relationship of one color to another.</p> - -<p>From the screen came the sound of the alien language again. This race -averaged deeper voices than human. He liked deep voices. Could he write -that?</p> - -<p>No, there was something wrong with that, too. How had Nathen -established the right sound-track pitch? Was it a matter of taking the -modulation as it came in, or some sort of hetrodyning up and down by -trial and error? Probably.</p> - -<p>It might be safer to assume that Nathen had simply preferred deep -voices.</p> - -<p>As he sat there, doubting, an uneasiness he had seen in Nathen came -back to add to his own uncertainty, and he remembered just how close -that uneasiness had come to something that looked like restrained fear.</p> - -<p>"What I don't get is why he went to all the trouble of picking up TV -shows instead of just contacting them," the <i>News</i> complained. "They're -good shows, but what's the point?"</p> - -<p>"Maybe so we'd get to learn their language too," said the <i>Herald</i>.</p> - -<p>On the screen now was the obviously unstaged and genuine scene of a -young alien working over a bank of apparatus. He turned and waved and -opened his mouth in the comical O shape which the <i>Times</i> was beginning -to recognize as their equivalent of a smile, then went back to trying -to explain something about the equipment, in elaborate awkward gestures -and carefully mouthed words.</p> - -<p>The <i>Times</i> got up quietly, went out into the bright white stone -corridor and walked back the way he had come, thoughtfully folding his -stereo glasses and putting them away.</p> - -<p>No one stopped him. Secrecy restrictions were ambiguous here. The -reticence of the Army seemed more a matter of habit, mere reflex, from -the fact that it had all originated in the Intelligence Department, -than any reasoned policy of keeping the landing a secret.</p> - -<p>The main room was more crowded than he had left it. The TV camera -and sound crew stood near their apparatus, the Senator had found a -chair and was reading, and at the far end of the room eight men were -grouped in a circle of chairs, arguing something with impassioned -concentration. The <i>Times</i> recognized a few he knew personally, eminent -names in science, workers in field theory.</p> - -<p>A stray phrase reached him: "—reference to the universal constants as -ratio—" It was probably a discussion of ways of converting formulas -from one mathematics to another for a rapid exchange of information.</p> - -<p>They had reason to be intent, aware of the flood of insights that novel -viewpoints could bring, if they could grasp them. He would have liked -to go over and listen, but there was too little time left before the -spaceship was due, and he had a question to ask.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The hand-rigged transceiver was still humming, tuned to the sending -band of the circling ship, and the young man who had started it all -was sitting on the edge of the TV platform with his chin resting in -one hand. He did not look up as the <i>Times</i> approached, but it was the -indifference of preoccupation, not discourtesy.</p> - -<p>The <i>Times</i> sat down on the edge of the platform beside him and took -out a pack of cigarettes, then remembered the coming TV broadcast -and the ban on smoking. He put them away, thoughtfully watching the -diminishing rain spray against the streaming windows.</p> - -<p>"What's wrong?" he asked.</p> - -<p>Nathen showed that he was aware and friendly by a slight motion of his -head.</p> - -<p>"<i>You</i> tell me."</p> - -<p>"Hunch," said the <i>Times</i> man. "Sheer hunch. Everything sailing along -too smoothly, everyone taking too much for granted."</p> - -<p>Nathen relaxed slightly. "I'm still listening."</p> - -<p>"Something about the way they move...."</p> - -<p>Nathen shifted to glance at him.</p> - -<p>"That's bothered me, too."</p> - -<p>"Are you sure they're adjusted to the right speed?"</p> - -<p>Nathen clenched his hands out in front of him and looked at them -consideringly. "I don't know. When I turn the tape faster, they're all -rushing, and you begin to wonder why their clothes don't stream behind -them, why the doors close so quickly and yet you can't hear them slam, -why things fall so fast. If I turn it slower, they all seem to be -swimming." He gave the <i>Times</i> a considering sidewise glance. "Didn't -catch the name."</p> - -<p>Country-bred guy, thought the <i>Times</i>. "Jacob Luke, <i>Times</i>," he said, -extending his hand.</p> - -<p>Nathen gave the hand a quick, hard grip, identifying the name. "Sunday -Science Section editor. I read it. Surprised to meet you here."</p> - -<p>"Likewise." The <i>Times</i> smiled. "Look, have you gone into this -rationally, with formulas?" He found a pencil in his pocket. -"Obviously there's something wrong with our judgment of their -weight-to-speed-to-momentum ratio. Maybe it's something simple like low -gravity aboard ship, with magnetic shoes. Maybe they <i>are</i> floating -slightly."</p> - -<p>"Why worry?" Nathen cut in. "I don't see any reason to try to figure it -out now." He laughed and shoved back his black hair nervously. "We'll -see them in twenty minutes."</p> - -<p>"Will we?" asked the <i>Times</i> slowly.</p> - -<p>There was a silence while the Senator turned a page of his magazine -with a slight crackling of paper, and the scientists argued at the -other end of the room. Nathen pushed at his lank black hair again, as -if it were trying to fall forward in front of his eyes and keep him -from seeing.</p> - -<p>"Sure." The young man laughed suddenly, talked rapidly. "Sure we'll -see them. Why shouldn't we, with all the government ready with welcome -speeches, the whole Army turned out and hiding over the hill, reporters -all around, newsreel cameras—everything set up to broadcast the -landing to the world. The President himself shaking hands with me and -waiting in Washington—"</p> - -<p>He came to the truth without pausing for breath.</p> - -<p>He said, "Hell, no, they won't get here. There's some mistake -somewhere. Something's wrong. I should have told the brasshats -yesterday when I started adding it up. Don't know why I didn't say -anything. Scared, I guess. Too much top rank around here. Lost my -nerve."</p> - -<p>He clutched the <i>Times</i> man's sleeve. "Look. I don't know what—"</p> - -<p>A green light flashed on the sending-receiving set. Nathen didn't look -at it, but he stopped talking.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The loudspeaker on the set broke into a voice speaking in the alien's -language. The Senator started and looked nervously at it, straightening -his tie. The voice stopped.</p> - -<p>Nathen turned and looked at the loudspeaker. His worry seemed to be -gone.</p> - -<p>"What is it?" the <i>Times</i> asked anxiously.</p> - -<p>"He says they've slowed enough to enter the atmosphere now. They'll be -here in five to ten minutes, I guess. That's Bud. He's all excited. -He says holy smoke, what a murky-looking planet we live on." Nathen -smiled. "Kidding."</p> - -<p>The <i>Times</i> was puzzled. "What does he mean, murky? It can't be -raining over much territory on Earth." Outside, the rain was slowing -and bright blue patches of sky were shining through breaks in the -cloud blanket, glittering blue light from the drops that ran down the -windows. He tried to think of an explanation. "Maybe they're trying to -land on Venus." The thought was ridiculous, he knew. The spaceship was -following Nathen's sending beam. It couldn't miss Earth. "Bud" had to -be kidding.</p> - -<p>The green light glowed on the set again, and they stopped speaking, -waiting for the message to be recorded, slowed and replayed. The -cathode screen came to life suddenly with a picture of the young man -sitting at his sending-set, his back turned, watching a screen at one -side which showed a glimpse of a huge dark plain approaching. As the -ship plunged down toward it, the illusion of solidity melted into a -boiling turbulence of black clouds. They expanded in an inky swirl, -looked huge for an instant, and then blackness swallowed the screen. -The young alien swung around to face the camera, speaking a few words -as he moved, made the O of a smile again, then flipped the switch and -the screen went gray.</p> - -<p>Nathen's voice was suddenly toneless and strained. "He said something -like break out the drinks, here they come."</p> - -<p>"The atmosphere doesn't look like that," the <i>Times</i> said at random, -knowing he was saying something too obvious even to think about. "Not -Earth's atmosphere."</p> - -<p>Some people drifted up. "What did they say?"</p> - -<p>"Entering the atmosphere, ought to be landing in five or ten minutes," -Nathen told them.</p> - -<p>A ripple of heightened excitement ran through the room. Cameramen began -adjusting the lens angles again, turning on the mike and checking it, -turning on the floodlights. The scientists rose and stood near the -window, still talking. The reporters trooped in from the hall and went -to the windows to watch for the great event. The three linguists came -in, trundling a large wheeled box that was the mechanical translator, -supervising while it was hitched into the sound broadcasting system.</p> - -<p>"Landing where?" the <i>Times</i> asked Nathen brutally. "Why don't you do -something?"</p> - -<p>"Tell me what to do and I'll do it," Nathen said quietly, not moving.</p> - -<p>It was not sarcasm. Jacob Luke of the <i>Times</i> looked sidewise at the -strained whiteness of his face, and moderated his tone. "Can't you -contact them?"</p> - -<p>"Not while they're landing."</p> - -<p>"What now?" The <i>Times</i> took out a pack of cigarettes, remembered the -rule against smoking, and put it back.</p> - -<p>"We just wait." Nathen leaned his elbow on one knee and his chin in his -hand.</p> - -<p>They waited.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>All the people in the room were waiting. There was no more -conversation. A bald man of the scientist group was automatically -buffing his fingernails over and over and inspecting them without -seeing them, another absently polished his glasses, held them up to -the light, put them on, and then a moment later took them off and began -polishing again. The television crew concentrated on their jobs, moving -quietly and efficiently, with perfectionist care, minutely arranging -things which did not need to be arranged, checking things that had -already been checked.</p> - -<p>This was to be one of the great moments of human history, and they were -all trying to forget that fact and remain impassive and wrapped up in -the problems of their jobs as good specialists should.</p> - -<p>After an interminable age the <i>Times</i> consulted his watch. Three -minutes had passed. He tried holding his breath a moment, listening for -a distant approaching thunder of jets. There was no sound.</p> - -<p>The sun came out from behind the clouds and lit up the field like a -great spotlight on an empty stage.</p> - -<p>Abruptly the green light shone on the set again, indicating that a -squawk message had been received. The recorder recorded it, slowed it -and fed it back to the speaker. It clicked and the sound was very loud -in the still, tense room.</p> - -<p>The screen remained gray, but Bud's voice spoke a few words in the -alien language. He stopped, the speaker clicked and the light went out. -When it was plain that nothing more would occur and no announcement was -to be made of what was said, the people in the room turned back to the -windows, talk picked up again.</p> - -<p>Somebody told a joke and laughed alone.</p> - -<p>One of the linguists remained turned toward the loudspeaker, then -looked at the widening patches of blue sky showing out the window, his -expression puzzled. He had understood.</p> - -<p>"It's dark," the thin Intelligence Department decoder translated, -low-voiced, to the man from the <i>Times</i>. "Your atmosphere is <i>thick</i>. -That's precisely what Bud said."</p> - -<p>Another three minutes. The <i>Times</i> caught himself about to light a -cigarette and swore silently, blowing the match out and putting the -cigarette back into its package. He listened for the sound of the -rocket jets. It was time for the landing, yet he heard no blasts.</p> - -<p>The green light came on in the transceiver.</p> - -<p>Message in.</p> - -<p>Instinctively he came to his feet. Nathen abruptly was standing beside -him. Then the message came in the voice he was coming to think of as -Bud. It spoke and paused. Suddenly the <i>Times</i> knew.</p> - -<p>"We've landed." Nathen whispered the words.</p> - -<p>The wind blew across the open spaces of white concrete and damp soil -that was the empty airfield, swaying the wet, shiny grass. The people -in the room looked out, listening for the roar of jets, looking for the -silver bulk of a spaceship in the sky.</p> - -<p>Nathen moved, seating himself at the transmitter, switching it on to -warm up, checking and balancing dials. Jacob Luke of the <i>Times</i> moved -softly to stand behind his right shoulder, hoping he could be useful. -Nathen made a half motion of his head, as if to glance back at him, -unhooked two of the earphone sets hanging on the side of the tall -streamlined box that was the automatic translator, plugged them in and -handed one back over his shoulder to the <i>Times</i> man.</p> - -<p>The voice began to come from the speaker again.</p> - -<p>Hastily, Jacob Luke fitted the earphones over his ears. He fancied he -could hear Bud's voice tremble. For a moment it was just Bud's voice -speaking the alien language, and then, very distant and clear in his -earphones, he heard the recorded voice of the linguist say an English -word, then a mechanical click and another clear word in the voice of -one of the other translators, then another as the alien's voice flowed -from the loudspeaker, the cool single words barely audible, overlapping -and blending with it like translating thought, skipping unfamiliar -words, yet quite astonishingly clear.</p> - -<p>"Radar shows no buildings or civilization near. The atmosphere around -us registers as thick as glue. Tremendous gas pressure, low gravity, -no light at all. You didn't describe it like this. Where are you, Joe? -This isn't some kind of trick, is it?" Bud hesitated, was prompted by a -deeper official voice and jerked out the words.</p> - -<p>"If it is a trick, we are ready to repel attack."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The linguist stood listening. He whitened slowly and beckoned the other -linguists over to him and whispered to them.</p> - -<p>Joseph Nathen looked at them with unwarranted bitter hostility while -he picked up the hand-mike, plugging it into the translator. "Joe -calling," he said quietly into it in clear, slow English. "No trick. We -don't know where you are. I am trying to get a direction fix from your -signal. Describe your surroundings to us if at all possible."</p> - -<p>Nearby, the floodlights blazed steadily on the television platform, -ready for the official welcome of the aliens to Earth. The television -channels of the world had been alerted to set aside their scheduled -programs for an unscheduled great event. In the long room the people -waited, listening for the swelling sound of rocket jets.</p> - -<p>This time, after the light came on, there was a long delay. The speaker -sputtered, and sputtered again, building to a steady scratching they -could barely sense as a dim voice. It came through in a few tinny words -and then wavered back to inaudibility. The machine translated in their -earphones.</p> - -<p>"Tried ... seemed ... repair...." Suddenly it came in clearly. "Can't -tell if the auxiliary blew, too. Will try it. We might pick you up -clearly on the next try. I have the volume down. Where is the landing -port? Repeat. Where is the landing port? Where are you?"</p> - -<p>Nathen put down the hand-mike and carefully set a dial on the recording -box, and flipped a switch, speaking over his shoulder. "This sets it to -repeat what I said the last time. It keeps repeating." Then he sat with -unnatural stillness, his head still half turned, as if he had suddenly -caught a glimpse of answer and was trying with no success whatever to -grasp it.</p> - -<p>The green warning light cut in, the recording clicked and the playback -of Bud's face and voice appeared on the screen.</p> - -<p>"We heard a few words, Joe, and then the receiver blew again. We're -adjusting a viewing screen to pick up the long waves that go through -the murk and convert them to visible light. We'll be able to see -out soon. The engineer says that something is wrong with the stern -jets, and the captain has had me broadcast a help call to our nearest -space base." He made the mouth O of a grin. "The message won't -reach it for some years. I trust you, Joe, but get us out of here, -will you?—They're buzzing that the screen is finally ready. Hold -everything."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The screen went gray, and the green light went off.</p> - -<p>The <i>Times</i> considered the lag required for the help call, the speaking -and recording of the message just received, the time needed to -reconvert a viewing screen.</p> - -<p>"They work fast." He shifted uneasily, and added at random, "Something -wrong with the time factor. All wrong. They work <i>too</i> fast."</p> - -<p>The green light came on again immediately. Nathen half turned to him, -sliding his words hastily into the gap of time as the message was -recorded and slowed. "They're close enough for our transmission power -to blow their receiver."</p> - -<p>If it was on Earth, why the darkness around the ship? "Maybe they see -in the high ultra-violet—the atmosphere is opaque to that band," the -<i>Times</i> suggested hastily as the speaker began to talk in the young -extraterrestrial's voice.</p> - -<p>It <i>was</i> shaking now. "Stand by for the description."</p> - -<p>They tensed, waiting. The <i>Times</i> brought a map of the state before his -mind's eye.</p> - -<p>"A half circle of cliffs around the horizon. A wide muddy lake swarming -with swimming things. Huge, strange white foliage all around the ship -and incredibly huge pulpy monsters attacking and eating each other on -all sides. We almost landed in the lake, right on the soft edge. The -mud can't hold the ship's weight, and we're sinking. The engineer says -we might be able to blast free, but the tubes are mud-clogged and might -blow up the ship. When can you reach us?"</p> - -<p>The <i>Times</i> thought vaguely of the Carboniferous Era. Nathen obviously -had seen something he had not.</p> - -<p>"Where are they?" the <i>Times</i> asked him quietly.</p> - -<p>Nathen pointed to the antenna position indicators. The <i>Times</i> let his -eyes follow the converging imaginary lines of focus out the window to -the sunlit airfield, the empty airfield, the drying concrete and green -waving grass where the lines met.</p> - -<p><i>Where the lines met. The spaceship was there!</i></p> - -<p>The fear of something unknown gripped him suddenly.</p> - -<p>The spaceship was broadcasting again. "<i>Where are you? Answer if -possible! We are sinking! Where are you?</i>"</p> - -<p>He saw that Nathen knew. "What is it?" the <i>Times</i> asked hoarsely. "Are -they in another dimension or the past or on another world or what?"</p> - -<p>Nathen was smiling bitterly, and Jacob Luke remembered that the young -man had a friend in that spaceship. "My guess is that they evolved -on a high-gravity planet, with a thin atmosphere, near a blue-white -star. Sure they see in the ultra-violet range. Our sun is abnormally -small and dim and yellow. Our atmosphere is so thick, it screens out -ultra-violet." He laughed harshly. "A good joke on us, the weird place -we evolved in, the thing it did to us!"</p> - -<p>"Where are you?" called the alien spaceship. "Hurry, please! We're -sinking!"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The decoder slowed his tumbled, frightened words and looked up into the -<i>Times'</i> face for understanding. "We'll rescue them," he said quietly. -"You were right about the time factor, right about them moving at a -different speed. I misunderstood. This business about squawk coding, -speeding for better transmission to counteract beam waver—I was wrong."</p> - -<p>"What do you mean?"</p> - -<p>"They don't speed up their broadcasts."</p> - -<p>"They don't—?"</p> - -<p>Suddenly, in his mind's eye, the <i>Times</i> began to see again the play -he had just seen—but the actors were moving at blurring speed, the -words jerking out in a fluting, dizzying stream, thoughts and decisions -passing with unfollowable rapidity, rippling faces in a twisting blur -of expressions, doors slamming wildly, shatteringly, as the actors -leaped in and out of rooms.</p> - -<p>No—faster, faster—he wasn't visualizing it as rapidly as it was, -an hour of talk and action in one almost instantaneous "squawk," a -narrow peak of "noise" interfering with a single word in an Earth -broadcast! Faster—faster—it was impossible. Matter could not stand -such stress—inertia—momentum—abrupt weight.</p> - -<p>It was insane. "Why?" he asked. "How?"</p> - -<p>Nathen laughed again harshly, reaching for the mike. "Get them out? -There isn't a lake or river within hundreds of miles from here!"</p> - -<p>A shiver of unreality went down the <i>Times'</i> spine. Automatically and -inanely, he found himself delving in his pocket for a cigarette while -he tried to grasp what had happened. "Where are they, then? Why can't -we see their spaceship?"</p> - -<p>Nathen switched the microphone on in a gesture that showed the -bitterness of his disappointment.</p> - -<p>"We'll need a magnifying glass for that."</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus2.jpg" width="594" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Pictures Don't Lie, by Katherine MacLean - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PICTURES DON'T LIE *** - -***** This file should be named 51193-h.htm or 51193-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/1/9/51193/ - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Pictures Don't Lie - -Author: Katherine MacLean - -Release Date: February 12, 2016 [EBook #51193] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PICTURES DON'T LIE *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - Pictures Don't Lie - - By KATHERINE MacLEAN - - Illustrated by MARTIN SCHNEIDER - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Galaxy Science Fiction August 1951. - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - - - - ... Pictures, that is, that one can test and measure. - And these pictures positively, absolutely could not lie! - - -The man from the _News_ asked, "What do you think of the aliens, Mister -Nathen? Are they friendly? Do they look human?" - -"Very human," said the thin young man. - -Outside, rain sleeted across the big windows with a steady faint -drumming, blurring and dimming the view of the airfield where _they_ -would arrive. On the concrete runways, the puddles were pockmarked -with rain, and the grass growing untouched between the runways of the -unused field glistened wetly, bending before gusts of wind. - -Back at a respectful distance from where the huge spaceship would -land were the gray shapes of trucks, where TV camera crews huddled -inside their mobile units, waiting. Farther back in the deserted sandy -landscape, behind distant sandy hills, artillery was ringed in a great -circle, and in the distance across the horizon, bombers stood ready at -airfields, guarding the world against possible treachery from the first -alien ship ever to land from space. - -"Do you know anything about their home planet?" asked the man from -_Herald_. - -The _Times_ man stood with the others, listening absently, thinking of -questions, but reserving them. Joseph R. Nathen, the thin young man -with the straight black hair and the tired lines on his face, was being -treated with respect by his interviewers. He was obviously on edge, and -they did not want to harry him with too many questions to answer at -once. They wanted to keep his good will. Tomorrow he would be one of -the biggest celebrities ever to appear in headlines. - -"No, nothing directly." - -"Any ideas or deductions?" _Herald_ persisted. - -"Their world must be Earth-like to them," the weary-looking young man -answered uncertainly. "The environment evolves the animal. But only in -relative terms, of course." He looked at them with a quick glance and -then looked away evasively, his lank black hair beginning to cling to -his forehead with sweat. "That doesn't necessarily mean anything." - -"Earth-like," muttered a reporter, writing it down as if he had noticed -nothing more in the reply. - -The _Times_ man glanced at the _Herald_, wondering if he had noticed, -and received a quick glance in exchange. - -The _Herald_ asked Nathen, "You think they are dangerous, then?" - -It was the kind of question, assuming much, which usually broke -reticence and brought forth quick facts--when it hit the mark. They all -knew of the military precautions, although they were not supposed to -know. - -The question missed. Nathen glanced out the window vaguely. "No, I -wouldn't say so." - -"You think they are friendly, then?" said the _Herald_, equally -positive on the opposite tack. - -A fleeting smile touched Nathen's lips. "Those I know are." - -There was no lead in this direction, and they had to get the basic -facts of the story before the ship came. The _Times_ asked, "What led -up to your contacting them?" - -Nathen answered after a hesitation. "Static. Radio static. The Army -told you my job, didn't they?" - - * * * * * - -The Army had told them nothing at all. The officer who had conducted -them in for the interview stood glowering watchfully, as if he objected -by instinct to telling anything to the public. - -Nathen glanced at him doubtfully. "My job is radio decoder for the -Department of Military Intelligence. I use a directional pickup, tune -in on foreign bands, record any scrambled or coded messages I hear, and -build automatic decoders and descramblers for all the basic scramble -patterns." - -The officer cleared his throat, but said nothing. - -The reporters smiled, noting that down. - -Security regulations had changed since arms inspection had been -legalized by the U.N. Complete information being the only public -security against secret rearmament, spying and prying had come to seem -a public service. Its aura had changed. It was good public relations to -admit to it. - -Nathen continued, "I started directing the pickup at stars in my -spare time. There's radio noise from stars, you know. Just stuff that -sounds like spatter static, and an occasional squawk. People have been -listening to it for a long time, and researching, trying to work out -why stellar radiation on those bands comes in such jagged bursts. It -didn't seem natural." - -He paused and smiled uncertainly, aware that the next thing he would -say was the thing that would make him famous--an idea that had come to -him while he listened--an idea as simple and as perfect as the one that -came to Newton when he saw the apple fall. - -"I decided it wasn't natural. I tried decoding it." - -Hurriedly he tried to explain it away and make it seem obvious. "You -see, there's an old intelligence trick, speeding up a message on a -record until it sounds just like that, a short squawk of static, and -then broadcasting it. Undergrounds use it. I'd heard that kind of -screech before." - -"You mean they broadcast at us in code?" asked the _News_. - -"It's not exactly code. All you need to do is record it and slow it -down. They're not broadcasting at us. If a star has planets, inhabited -planets, and there is broadcasting between them, they would send it on -a tight beam to save power." He looked for comprehension. "You know, -like a spotlight. Theoretically, a tight beam can go on forever without -losing power. But aiming would be difficult from planet to planet. You -can't expect a beam to stay on target, over such distances, more than a -few seconds at a time. So they'd naturally compress each message into -a short half-second or one-second-length package and send it a few -hundred times in one long blast to make sure it is picked up during -the instant the beam swings across the target." - -He was talking slowly and carefully, remembering that this explanation -was for the newspapers. "When a stray beam swings through our section -of space, there's a sharp peak in noise level from that direction. -The beams are swinging to follow their own planets at home, and -the distance between there and here exaggerates the speed of swing -tremendously, so we wouldn't pick up more than a bip as it passes." - -"How do you account for the number of squawks coming in?" the _Times_ -asked. "Do stellar systems rotate on the plane of the Galaxy?" It was a -private question; he spoke impulsively from interest and excitement. - -The radio decoder grinned, the lines of strain vanishing from his face -for a moment. "Maybe we're intercepting everybody's telephone calls, -and the whole Galaxy is swarming with races that spend all day yacking -at each other over the radio. Maybe the human type is standard model." - -"It would take something like that," the _Times_ agreed. They smiled at -each other. - -The _News_ asked, "How did you happen to pick up television instead of -voices?" - -"Not by accident," Nathen explained patiently. "I'd recognized a -scanning pattern, and I wanted pictures. Pictures are understandable in -any language." - - * * * * * - -Near the interviewers, a Senator paced back and forth, muttering -his memorized speech of welcome and nervously glancing out the wide -streaming windows into the gray sleeting rain. - -Opposite the windows of the long room was a small raised platform -flanked by the tall shapes of TV cameras and sound pickups on booms, -and darkened floodlights, arranged and ready for the Senator to make -his speech of welcome to the aliens and the world. A shabby radio -sending set stood beside it without a case to conceal its parts, two -cathode television tubes flickering nakedly on one side and the speaker -humming on the other. A vertical panel of dials and knobs jutted up -before them and a small hand-mike sat ready on the table before the -panel. It was connected to a boxlike, expensively cased piece of -equipment with "Radio Lab, U.S. Property" stenciled on it. - -"I recorded a couple of package screeches from Sagittarius and began -working on them," Nathen added. "It took a couple of months to find -the synchronizing signals and set the scanners close enough to the -right time to even get a pattern. When I showed the pattern to the -Department, they gave me full time to work on it, and an assistant to -help. It took eight months to pick out the color bands, and assign them -the right colors, to get anything intelligible on the screen." - - * * * * * - -The shabby-looking mess of exposed parts was the original receiver that -they had labored over for ten months, adjusting and readjusting to -reduce the maddening rippling plaids of unsynchronized color scanners -to some kind of sane picture. - -"Trial and error," said Nathen, "but it came out all right. The wide -band-spread of the squawks had suggested color TV from the beginning." - -He walked over and touched the set. The speaker bipped slightly and -the gray screen flickered with a flash of color at the touch. The set -was awake and sensitive, tuned to receive from the great interstellar -spaceship which now circled the atmosphere. - -"We wondered why there were so many bands, but when we got the set -working, and started recording and playing everything that came in, we -found we'd tapped something like a lending library line. It was all -fiction, plays." - -Between the pauses in Nathen's voice, the _Times_ found himself -unconsciously listening for the sound of roaring, swiftly approaching -rocket jets. - -The _Post_ asked, "How did you contact the spaceship?" - -"I scanned and recorded a film copy of _Rite of Spring_, the -Disney-Stravinsky combination, and sent it back along the same line we -were receiving from. Just testing. It wouldn't get there for a good -number of years, if it got there at all, but I thought it would please -the library to get a new record in. - -"Two weeks later, when we caught and slowed a new batch of recordings, -we found an answer. It was obviously meant for us. It was a flash of -the Disney being played to a large audience, and then the audience -sitting and waiting before a blank screen. The signal was very clear -and loud. We'd intercepted a spaceship. They were asking for an encore, -you see. They liked the film and wanted more...." - -He smiled at them in sudden thought. "You can see them for yourself. -It's all right down the hall where the linguists are working on the -automatic translator." - -The listening officer frowned and cleared his throat, and the thin -young man turned to him quickly. "No security reason why they should -not see the broadcasts, is there? Perhaps you should show them." He -said to the reporters reassuringly, "It's right down the hall. You -will be informed the moment the spaceship approaches." - -The interview was very definitely over. The lank-haired, nervous young -man turned away and seated himself at the radio set while the officer -swallowed his objections and showed them dourly down the hall to a -closed door. - -They opened it and fumbled into a darkened room crowded with empty -folding chairs, dominated by a glowing bright screen. The door closed -behind them, bringing total darkness. - -There was the sound of reporters fumbling their way into seats around -him, but the _Times_ man remained standing, aware of an enormous -surprise, as if he had been asleep and wakened to find himself in the -wrong country. - -The bright colors of the double image seemed the only real thing in the -darkened room. Even blurred as they were, he could see that the action -was subtly different, the shapes subtly not right. - -_He was looking at aliens._ - - * * * * * - -The impression was of two humans disguised, humans moving oddly, -half-dancing, half-crippled. Carefully, afraid the images would go -away, he reached up to his breast pocket, took out his polarized -glasses, rotated one lens at right angles to the other and put them on. - -Immediately, the two beings came into sharp focus, real and solid, -and the screen became a wide, illusively near window through which he -watched them. - -They were conversing with each other in a gray-walled room, discussing -something with restrained excitement. The large man in the green tunic -closed his purple eyes for an instant at something the other said, and -grimaced, making a motion with his fingers as if shoving something away -from him. - -Mellerdrammer. - -The second, smaller, with yellowish-green eyes, stepped closer, talking -more rapidly in a lower voice. The first stood very still, not trying -to interrupt. - -Obviously, the proposal was some advantageous treachery, and he wanted -to be persuaded. The _Times_ groped for a chair and sat down. - -Perhaps gesture is universal; desire and aversion, a leaning forward or -a leaning back, tension, relaxation. Perhaps these actors were masters. -The scenes changed, a corridor, a parklike place in what he began to -realize was a spaceship, a lecture room. There were others talking -and working, speaking to the man in the green tunic, and never was it -unclear what was happening or how they felt. - -They talked a flowing language with many short vowels and shifts of -pitch, and they gestured in the heat of talk, their hands moving with -an odd lagging difference of motion, not slow, but somehow drifting. - -He ignored the language, but after a time the difference in motion -began to arouse his interest. Something in the way they walked.... - -With an effort he pulled his mind from the plot and forced his -attention to the physical difference. Brown hair in short silky crew -cuts, varied eye colors, the colors showing clearly because their -irises were very large, their round eyes set very widely apart in -tapering light-brown faces. Their necks and shoulders were thick in a -way that would indicate unusual strength for a human, but their wrists -were narrow and their fingers long and thin and delicate. - -There seemed to be more than the usual number of fingers. - -Since he came in, a machine had been whirring and a voice muttering -beside him. He called his attention from counting their fingers and -looked around. Beside him sat an alert-looking man wearing earphones, -watching and listening with hawklike concentration. Beside him was a -tall streamlined box. From the screen came the sound of the alien -language. The man abruptly flipped a switch on the box, muttered a word -into a small hand-microphone and flipped the switch back with nervous -rapidity. - -He reminded the _Times_ man of the earphoned interpreters at the UN. -The machine was probably a vocal translator and the mutterer a linguist -adding to its vocabulary. Near the screen were two other linguists -taking notes. - - * * * * * - -The _Times_ remembered the Senator pacing in the observatory room, -rehearsing his speech of welcome. The speech would not be just -the empty pompous gesture he had expected. It would be translated -mechanically and understood by the aliens. - -On the other side of the glowing window that was the stereo screen, the -large protagonist in the green tunic was speaking to a pilot in a gray -uniform. They stood in a brightly lit canary-yellow control room in a -spaceship. - -The _Times_ tried to pick up the thread of the plot. Already he was -interested in the fate of the hero, and liked him. That was the effect -of good acting, probably, for part of the art of acting is to win -affection from the audience, and this actor might be the matinee idol -of whole solar systems. - -Controlled tension, betraying itself by a jerk of the hands, a -too-quick answer to a question. The uniformed one, not suspicious, -turned his back, busying himself at some task involving a map lit with -glowing red points, his motions sharing the same fluid dragging grace -of the others, as if they were underwater, or on a slow motion film. -The other was watching a switch, a switch set into a panel, moving -closer to it, talking casually--background music coming and rising in -thin chords of tension. - -There was a closeup of the alien's face watching the switch, and the -_Times_ noted that his ears were symmetrically half-circles, almost -perfect with no earholes visible. The voice of the uniformed one -answered, a brief word in a preoccupied deep voice. His back was still -turned. The other glanced at the switch, moving closer to it, talking -casually, the switch coming closer and closer stereoscopically. It was -in reach, filling the screen. His hand came into view, darting out, -closed over the switch-- - -There was a sharp clap of sound and his hand opened in a frozen -shape of pain. Beyond him, as his gaze swung up, stood the figure of -the uniformed officer, unmoving, a weapon rigid in his hand, in the -startled position in which he had turned and fired, watching with -widening eyes as the man in the green tunic swayed and fell. - -The tableau held, the uniformed one drooping, looking down at his hand -holding the weapon which had killed, and music began to build in from -the background. Just for an instant, the room and the things within -it flashed into one of those bewildering color changes which were the -bane of color television, and switched to a color negative of itself, a -green man standing in a violet control room, looking down at the body -of a green man in a red tunic. It held for less than a second; then the -color band alternator fell back into phase and the colors reversed to -normal. - -Another uniformed man came and took the weapon from the limp hand of -the other, who began to explain dejectedly in a low voice while the -music mounted and covered his words and the screen slowly went blank, -like a window that slowly filmed over with gray fog. - -The music faded. - -In the dark, someone clapped appreciatively. - -The earphoned man beside the _Times_ shifted his earphones back from -his ears and spoke briskly. "I can't get any more. Either of you want a -replay?" - -There was a short silence until the linguist nearest the set said, "I -guess we've squeezed that one dry. Let's run the tape where Nathen and -that ship radio boy are kidding around CQing and tuning their beams in -closer. I have a hunch the boy is talking routine ham talk and giving -the old radio count--one-two-three-testing." - -There was some fumbling in the semi-dark and then the screen came to -life again. - - * * * * * - -It showed a flash of an audience sitting before a screen and gave a -clipped chord of some familiar symphony. "Crazy about Stravinsky and -Mozart," remarked the earphoned linguist to the _Times_, resettling his -earphones. "Can't stand Gershwin. Can you beat that?" He turned his -attention back to the screen as the right sequence came on. - -The _Post_, who was sitting just in front of him, turned to the _Times_ -and said, "Funny how much they look like people." He was writing, -making notes to telephone his report. "What color hair did that -character have?" - -"I didn't notice." He wondered if he should remind the reporter that -Nathen had said he assigned the color bands on guess, choosing the -colors that gave the most plausible images. The guests, when they -arrived, could turn out to be bright green with blue hair. Only the -gradations of color in the picture were sure, only the similarities and -contrasts, the relationship of one color to another. - -From the screen came the sound of the alien language again. This race -averaged deeper voices than human. He liked deep voices. Could he write -that? - -No, there was something wrong with that, too. How had Nathen -established the right sound-track pitch? Was it a matter of taking the -modulation as it came in, or some sort of hetrodyning up and down by -trial and error? Probably. - -It might be safer to assume that Nathen had simply preferred deep -voices. - -As he sat there, doubting, an uneasiness he had seen in Nathen came -back to add to his own uncertainty, and he remembered just how close -that uneasiness had come to something that looked like restrained fear. - -"What I don't get is why he went to all the trouble of picking up TV -shows instead of just contacting them," the _News_ complained. "They're -good shows, but what's the point?" - -"Maybe so we'd get to learn their language too," said the _Herald_. - -On the screen now was the obviously unstaged and genuine scene of a -young alien working over a bank of apparatus. He turned and waved and -opened his mouth in the comical O shape which the _Times_ was beginning -to recognize as their equivalent of a smile, then went back to trying -to explain something about the equipment, in elaborate awkward gestures -and carefully mouthed words. - -The _Times_ got up quietly, went out into the bright white stone -corridor and walked back the way he had come, thoughtfully folding his -stereo glasses and putting them away. - -No one stopped him. Secrecy restrictions were ambiguous here. The -reticence of the Army seemed more a matter of habit, mere reflex, from -the fact that it had all originated in the Intelligence Department, -than any reasoned policy of keeping the landing a secret. - -The main room was more crowded than he had left it. The TV camera -and sound crew stood near their apparatus, the Senator had found a -chair and was reading, and at the far end of the room eight men were -grouped in a circle of chairs, arguing something with impassioned -concentration. The _Times_ recognized a few he knew personally, eminent -names in science, workers in field theory. - -A stray phrase reached him: "--reference to the universal constants as -ratio--" It was probably a discussion of ways of converting formulas -from one mathematics to another for a rapid exchange of information. - -They had reason to be intent, aware of the flood of insights that novel -viewpoints could bring, if they could grasp them. He would have liked -to go over and listen, but there was too little time left before the -spaceship was due, and he had a question to ask. - - * * * * * - -The hand-rigged transceiver was still humming, tuned to the sending -band of the circling ship, and the young man who had started it all -was sitting on the edge of the TV platform with his chin resting in -one hand. He did not look up as the _Times_ approached, but it was the -indifference of preoccupation, not discourtesy. - -The _Times_ sat down on the edge of the platform beside him and took -out a pack of cigarettes, then remembered the coming TV broadcast -and the ban on smoking. He put them away, thoughtfully watching the -diminishing rain spray against the streaming windows. - -"What's wrong?" he asked. - -Nathen showed that he was aware and friendly by a slight motion of his -head. - -"_You_ tell me." - -"Hunch," said the _Times_ man. "Sheer hunch. Everything sailing along -too smoothly, everyone taking too much for granted." - -Nathen relaxed slightly. "I'm still listening." - -"Something about the way they move...." - -Nathen shifted to glance at him. - -"That's bothered me, too." - -"Are you sure they're adjusted to the right speed?" - -Nathen clenched his hands out in front of him and looked at them -consideringly. "I don't know. When I turn the tape faster, they're all -rushing, and you begin to wonder why their clothes don't stream behind -them, why the doors close so quickly and yet you can't hear them slam, -why things fall so fast. If I turn it slower, they all seem to be -swimming." He gave the _Times_ a considering sidewise glance. "Didn't -catch the name." - -Country-bred guy, thought the _Times_. "Jacob Luke, _Times_," he said, -extending his hand. - -Nathen gave the hand a quick, hard grip, identifying the name. "Sunday -Science Section editor. I read it. Surprised to meet you here." - -"Likewise." The _Times_ smiled. "Look, have you gone into this -rationally, with formulas?" He found a pencil in his pocket. -"Obviously there's something wrong with our judgment of their -weight-to-speed-to-momentum ratio. Maybe it's something simple like low -gravity aboard ship, with magnetic shoes. Maybe they _are_ floating -slightly." - -"Why worry?" Nathen cut in. "I don't see any reason to try to figure it -out now." He laughed and shoved back his black hair nervously. "We'll -see them in twenty minutes." - -"Will we?" asked the _Times_ slowly. - -There was a silence while the Senator turned a page of his magazine -with a slight crackling of paper, and the scientists argued at the -other end of the room. Nathen pushed at his lank black hair again, as -if it were trying to fall forward in front of his eyes and keep him -from seeing. - -"Sure." The young man laughed suddenly, talked rapidly. "Sure we'll -see them. Why shouldn't we, with all the government ready with welcome -speeches, the whole Army turned out and hiding over the hill, reporters -all around, newsreel cameras--everything set up to broadcast the -landing to the world. The President himself shaking hands with me and -waiting in Washington--" - -He came to the truth without pausing for breath. - -He said, "Hell, no, they won't get here. There's some mistake -somewhere. Something's wrong. I should have told the brasshats -yesterday when I started adding it up. Don't know why I didn't say -anything. Scared, I guess. Too much top rank around here. Lost my -nerve." - -He clutched the _Times_ man's sleeve. "Look. I don't know what--" - -A green light flashed on the sending-receiving set. Nathen didn't look -at it, but he stopped talking. - - * * * * * - -The loudspeaker on the set broke into a voice speaking in the alien's -language. The Senator started and looked nervously at it, straightening -his tie. The voice stopped. - -Nathen turned and looked at the loudspeaker. His worry seemed to be -gone. - -"What is it?" the _Times_ asked anxiously. - -"He says they've slowed enough to enter the atmosphere now. They'll be -here in five to ten minutes, I guess. That's Bud. He's all excited. -He says holy smoke, what a murky-looking planet we live on." Nathen -smiled. "Kidding." - -The _Times_ was puzzled. "What does he mean, murky? It can't be -raining over much territory on Earth." Outside, the rain was slowing -and bright blue patches of sky were shining through breaks in the -cloud blanket, glittering blue light from the drops that ran down the -windows. He tried to think of an explanation. "Maybe they're trying to -land on Venus." The thought was ridiculous, he knew. The spaceship was -following Nathen's sending beam. It couldn't miss Earth. "Bud" had to -be kidding. - -The green light glowed on the set again, and they stopped speaking, -waiting for the message to be recorded, slowed and replayed. The -cathode screen came to life suddenly with a picture of the young man -sitting at his sending-set, his back turned, watching a screen at one -side which showed a glimpse of a huge dark plain approaching. As the -ship plunged down toward it, the illusion of solidity melted into a -boiling turbulence of black clouds. They expanded in an inky swirl, -looked huge for an instant, and then blackness swallowed the screen. -The young alien swung around to face the camera, speaking a few words -as he moved, made the O of a smile again, then flipped the switch and -the screen went gray. - -Nathen's voice was suddenly toneless and strained. "He said something -like break out the drinks, here they come." - -"The atmosphere doesn't look like that," the _Times_ said at random, -knowing he was saying something too obvious even to think about. "Not -Earth's atmosphere." - -Some people drifted up. "What did they say?" - -"Entering the atmosphere, ought to be landing in five or ten minutes," -Nathen told them. - -A ripple of heightened excitement ran through the room. Cameramen began -adjusting the lens angles again, turning on the mike and checking it, -turning on the floodlights. The scientists rose and stood near the -window, still talking. The reporters trooped in from the hall and went -to the windows to watch for the great event. The three linguists came -in, trundling a large wheeled box that was the mechanical translator, -supervising while it was hitched into the sound broadcasting system. - -"Landing where?" the _Times_ asked Nathen brutally. "Why don't you do -something?" - -"Tell me what to do and I'll do it," Nathen said quietly, not moving. - -It was not sarcasm. Jacob Luke of the _Times_ looked sidewise at the -strained whiteness of his face, and moderated his tone. "Can't you -contact them?" - -"Not while they're landing." - -"What now?" The _Times_ took out a pack of cigarettes, remembered the -rule against smoking, and put it back. - -"We just wait." Nathen leaned his elbow on one knee and his chin in his -hand. - -They waited. - - * * * * * - -All the people in the room were waiting. There was no more -conversation. A bald man of the scientist group was automatically -buffing his fingernails over and over and inspecting them without -seeing them, another absently polished his glasses, held them up to -the light, put them on, and then a moment later took them off and began -polishing again. The television crew concentrated on their jobs, moving -quietly and efficiently, with perfectionist care, minutely arranging -things which did not need to be arranged, checking things that had -already been checked. - -This was to be one of the great moments of human history, and they were -all trying to forget that fact and remain impassive and wrapped up in -the problems of their jobs as good specialists should. - -After an interminable age the _Times_ consulted his watch. Three -minutes had passed. He tried holding his breath a moment, listening for -a distant approaching thunder of jets. There was no sound. - -The sun came out from behind the clouds and lit up the field like a -great spotlight on an empty stage. - -Abruptly the green light shone on the set again, indicating that a -squawk message had been received. The recorder recorded it, slowed it -and fed it back to the speaker. It clicked and the sound was very loud -in the still, tense room. - -The screen remained gray, but Bud's voice spoke a few words in the -alien language. He stopped, the speaker clicked and the light went out. -When it was plain that nothing more would occur and no announcement was -to be made of what was said, the people in the room turned back to the -windows, talk picked up again. - -Somebody told a joke and laughed alone. - -One of the linguists remained turned toward the loudspeaker, then -looked at the widening patches of blue sky showing out the window, his -expression puzzled. He had understood. - -"It's dark," the thin Intelligence Department decoder translated, -low-voiced, to the man from the _Times_. "Your atmosphere is _thick_. -That's precisely what Bud said." - -Another three minutes. The _Times_ caught himself about to light a -cigarette and swore silently, blowing the match out and putting the -cigarette back into its package. He listened for the sound of the -rocket jets. It was time for the landing, yet he heard no blasts. - -The green light came on in the transceiver. - -Message in. - -Instinctively he came to his feet. Nathen abruptly was standing beside -him. Then the message came in the voice he was coming to think of as -Bud. It spoke and paused. Suddenly the _Times_ knew. - -"We've landed." Nathen whispered the words. - -The wind blew across the open spaces of white concrete and damp soil -that was the empty airfield, swaying the wet, shiny grass. The people -in the room looked out, listening for the roar of jets, looking for the -silver bulk of a spaceship in the sky. - -Nathen moved, seating himself at the transmitter, switching it on to -warm up, checking and balancing dials. Jacob Luke of the _Times_ moved -softly to stand behind his right shoulder, hoping he could be useful. -Nathen made a half motion of his head, as if to glance back at him, -unhooked two of the earphone sets hanging on the side of the tall -streamlined box that was the automatic translator, plugged them in and -handed one back over his shoulder to the _Times_ man. - -The voice began to come from the speaker again. - -Hastily, Jacob Luke fitted the earphones over his ears. He fancied he -could hear Bud's voice tremble. For a moment it was just Bud's voice -speaking the alien language, and then, very distant and clear in his -earphones, he heard the recorded voice of the linguist say an English -word, then a mechanical click and another clear word in the voice of -one of the other translators, then another as the alien's voice flowed -from the loudspeaker, the cool single words barely audible, overlapping -and blending with it like translating thought, skipping unfamiliar -words, yet quite astonishingly clear. - -"Radar shows no buildings or civilization near. The atmosphere around -us registers as thick as glue. Tremendous gas pressure, low gravity, -no light at all. You didn't describe it like this. Where are you, Joe? -This isn't some kind of trick, is it?" Bud hesitated, was prompted by a -deeper official voice and jerked out the words. - -"If it is a trick, we are ready to repel attack." - - * * * * * - -The linguist stood listening. He whitened slowly and beckoned the other -linguists over to him and whispered to them. - -Joseph Nathen looked at them with unwarranted bitter hostility while -he picked up the hand-mike, plugging it into the translator. "Joe -calling," he said quietly into it in clear, slow English. "No trick. We -don't know where you are. I am trying to get a direction fix from your -signal. Describe your surroundings to us if at all possible." - -Nearby, the floodlights blazed steadily on the television platform, -ready for the official welcome of the aliens to Earth. The television -channels of the world had been alerted to set aside their scheduled -programs for an unscheduled great event. In the long room the people -waited, listening for the swelling sound of rocket jets. - -This time, after the light came on, there was a long delay. The speaker -sputtered, and sputtered again, building to a steady scratching they -could barely sense as a dim voice. It came through in a few tinny words -and then wavered back to inaudibility. The machine translated in their -earphones. - -"Tried ... seemed ... repair...." Suddenly it came in clearly. "Can't -tell if the auxiliary blew, too. Will try it. We might pick you up -clearly on the next try. I have the volume down. Where is the landing -port? Repeat. Where is the landing port? Where are you?" - -Nathen put down the hand-mike and carefully set a dial on the recording -box, and flipped a switch, speaking over his shoulder. "This sets it to -repeat what I said the last time. It keeps repeating." Then he sat with -unnatural stillness, his head still half turned, as if he had suddenly -caught a glimpse of answer and was trying with no success whatever to -grasp it. - -The green warning light cut in, the recording clicked and the playback -of Bud's face and voice appeared on the screen. - -"We heard a few words, Joe, and then the receiver blew again. We're -adjusting a viewing screen to pick up the long waves that go through -the murk and convert them to visible light. We'll be able to see -out soon. The engineer says that something is wrong with the stern -jets, and the captain has had me broadcast a help call to our nearest -space base." He made the mouth O of a grin. "The message won't -reach it for some years. I trust you, Joe, but get us out of here, -will you?--They're buzzing that the screen is finally ready. Hold -everything." - - * * * * * - -The screen went gray, and the green light went off. - -The _Times_ considered the lag required for the help call, the speaking -and recording of the message just received, the time needed to -reconvert a viewing screen. - -"They work fast." He shifted uneasily, and added at random, "Something -wrong with the time factor. All wrong. They work _too_ fast." - -The green light came on again immediately. Nathen half turned to him, -sliding his words hastily into the gap of time as the message was -recorded and slowed. "They're close enough for our transmission power -to blow their receiver." - -If it was on Earth, why the darkness around the ship? "Maybe they see -in the high ultra-violet--the atmosphere is opaque to that band," the -_Times_ suggested hastily as the speaker began to talk in the young -extraterrestrial's voice. - -It _was_ shaking now. "Stand by for the description." - -They tensed, waiting. The _Times_ brought a map of the state before his -mind's eye. - -"A half circle of cliffs around the horizon. A wide muddy lake swarming -with swimming things. Huge, strange white foliage all around the ship -and incredibly huge pulpy monsters attacking and eating each other on -all sides. We almost landed in the lake, right on the soft edge. The -mud can't hold the ship's weight, and we're sinking. The engineer says -we might be able to blast free, but the tubes are mud-clogged and might -blow up the ship. When can you reach us?" - -The _Times_ thought vaguely of the Carboniferous Era. Nathen obviously -had seen something he had not. - -"Where are they?" the _Times_ asked him quietly. - -Nathen pointed to the antenna position indicators. The _Times_ let his -eyes follow the converging imaginary lines of focus out the window to -the sunlit airfield, the empty airfield, the drying concrete and green -waving grass where the lines met. - -_Where the lines met. The spaceship was there!_ - -The fear of something unknown gripped him suddenly. - -The spaceship was broadcasting again. "_Where are you? Answer if -possible! We are sinking! Where are you?_" - -He saw that Nathen knew. "What is it?" the _Times_ asked hoarsely. "Are -they in another dimension or the past or on another world or what?" - -Nathen was smiling bitterly, and Jacob Luke remembered that the young -man had a friend in that spaceship. "My guess is that they evolved -on a high-gravity planet, with a thin atmosphere, near a blue-white -star. Sure they see in the ultra-violet range. Our sun is abnormally -small and dim and yellow. Our atmosphere is so thick, it screens out -ultra-violet." He laughed harshly. "A good joke on us, the weird place -we evolved in, the thing it did to us!" - -"Where are you?" called the alien spaceship. "Hurry, please! We're -sinking!" - - * * * * * - -The decoder slowed his tumbled, frightened words and looked up into the -_Times'_ face for understanding. "We'll rescue them," he said quietly. -"You were right about the time factor, right about them moving at a -different speed. I misunderstood. This business about squawk coding, -speeding for better transmission to counteract beam waver--I was wrong." - -"What do you mean?" - -"They don't speed up their broadcasts." - -"They don't--?" - -Suddenly, in his mind's eye, the _Times_ began to see again the play -he had just seen--but the actors were moving at blurring speed, the -words jerking out in a fluting, dizzying stream, thoughts and decisions -passing with unfollowable rapidity, rippling faces in a twisting blur -of expressions, doors slamming wildly, shatteringly, as the actors -leaped in and out of rooms. - -No--faster, faster--he wasn't visualizing it as rapidly as it was, -an hour of talk and action in one almost instantaneous "squawk," a -narrow peak of "noise" interfering with a single word in an Earth -broadcast! Faster--faster--it was impossible. Matter could not stand -such stress--inertia--momentum--abrupt weight. - -It was insane. "Why?" he asked. "How?" - -Nathen laughed again harshly, reaching for the mike. "Get them out? -There isn't a lake or river within hundreds of miles from here!" - -A shiver of unreality went down the _Times'_ spine. Automatically and -inanely, he found himself delving in his pocket for a cigarette while -he tried to grasp what had happened. "Where are they, then? Why can't -we see their spaceship?" - -Nathen switched the microphone on in a gesture that showed the -bitterness of his disappointment. - -"We'll need a magnifying glass for that." - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Pictures Don't Lie, by Katherine MacLean - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PICTURES DON'T LIE *** - -***** This file should be named 51193.txt or 51193.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/1/9/51193/ - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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