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listened by the hour. But the novelty had worn off by now and they paid the tapes very little attention. And they still
continued to ignore the robots. Even more pointedly, they ignored or rebuffed all attempts to sell.
It was disheartening.
Lemuel gave up his pacing and threw away his notes. He admitted he was licked. There was no way, on Garson IV, to
adapt the idea of the college salesman.
Baldwin headed up a team that tried to get the whisper campaign started. The natives flatly disbelieved that any
other village would go out and buy.
There remained the medicine show and Joshua and Thaddeus had a troupe rehearsing. The project was somewhat
hampered by the fact that even Hezekiah could not dig up any actor transmogs, but, even so, they were doing well.
Despite the failure of everything they had tried, the robots kept going out to the villages, kept plugging away, kept
on trying to sell, hoping that one day they would get a clue, a hint, an indication that might help them break the shell
of reserve and obstinacy set up by the natives;
One day Gideon, out alone, radioed to base.
"There's something out here underneath a tree that you should take a look at," he told Sheridan.
"Something?"
"A different kind of being. It looks intelligent."
"A Garsonian?"
 "Humanoid, all right, but it's no Garsonian."
"I'll be right out," said Sheridan. "You stay there so you can point it out to me."
"It has probably seen me," Gideon said, "but I did not approach it. I thought you might like first whack at it
yourself."
As Gideon had said, the creature was sitting underneath a tree. It had a glittering cloth spread out and an ornate jug
set out and was taking things out of a receptacle that probably was a hamper.
It was more attractively humanoid than the Garsonians. Its features were finely chiseled and its body had a look of
lithe ranginess, it was dressed in the richest fabrics and was all decked out with jewels. It had a decided social air
about it.
"Hello, friend," Sheridan said in Garsonian.
The creature seemed to understand him, but it smiled in a superior manner and seemed not to be too happy at
Sheridan's intrusion.
"Perhaps," it finally said, "you have the time to sit down for a while."
Which, the way that it was put, was a plain and simple invitation for Sheridan to say no, he was sorry, but he hadn't
and be must be getting on.
"Why, certainly," said Sheridan. "Thank you very much." He sat down and watched the creature continue to extract
things from the hamper.
"It's slightly difficult," the creature told him, "for us to communicate in this barbaric language. But I suppose it's the
best we can do. You do not happen to know Ballic, do you?"
"I'm sorry," said Sheridan. "I've never heard of it."
"I had thought you might. It is widely used."
"We can get along," said Sheridan quietly, "with the language native to this planet."
"Oh, certainly," agreed the creature. "I presume I'm not trespassing. If I am, of course -"
"Not at all. I'm glad to find you here."
"I would offer you some food, but I hesitate to do so. Your metabolism undoubtedly is not the same as mine. It
should pain me to poison you."
Sheridan nodded to indicate his gratitude. The food indeed was tempting. All of it was packaged attractively and
some of it looked so delectable that it set the mouth to watering.
"I often come here for..." The creature hunted for the Garsonian word and there wasn't any.
Sheridan tried to help him out. "I think in my language I would call it picnic."
"An eating-out-of-doors," the stranger said. "That is the nearest I can come in the language of our host."
"We have the same idea."
The creature brightened up considerably at this evidence of mutual understanding. "I think, my friend, that we have
much in common. Perhaps I could leave some of this food with you and you could analyze it. Then the next time I
come, you could join me."
Sheridan shook his head. "I doubt I'll stay much longer."
"Oh," the stranger said, and he seemed pleased at it. "So you're a transitory being, too. Wings passing in the night.
One hears a rustle and then the sound is gone forever."
 "A most poetic thought," said Sheridan, "and a most descriptive one."
"Although," the creature said, "I come here fairly often. I've grown to love this planet. It is such a fine spot for an [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]