had better be careful of his
induced somatic sympathy.

After a moment of speculative silence, he said, "You haven't told me
what you savages consider yourselves."

"Don't call me a savage, you naked beast," she snapped back.

"I beg your pardon," he murmured politely. "Merely a semantic
difficulty. I'm sure. I assume that you consider yourselves human
beings, then. Where do you come from?"

"Earth--the third planet."

"I see. And you used mechanical devices such as this little metal egg to
get here. Most curious." Tensor contemplated the thought with great
interest, for obviously they used mechanical skill to compensate for
lack of direct control. An exceedingly poor substitute, of course; but
it explained everything he wanted to know.

"Are there many of you natives?" she asked him cautiously.

"Not like there used to be," Tensor admitted. "But still quite a
few--though not so many we get on each other's nerves."

"How many in round numbers?"

That was a silly question, Tensor thought. Nevertheless he told her,
"Oh, I suppose about thirty or a hundred. We haven't counted for
centuries. Nobody's interested."

She appeared to be deeply absorbed in thought, gazing at him in an
almost detached fashion. Finally she said. "Your civilization is based
on the mind, isn't it? You do things with an act of will instead of with
your hands."

"Naturally. That is the essential mark of civilization. At least," he
added politely, "from our point of view."

"Are you--telepathic?"

"Only with other telepaths," he said simply.

"Then how did you learn my language?"

"Oh, after you talk it a bit. I can see certain relationships. But the
mental pictures are so discontinuous and nonspecific that it takes a
little time before the pattern emerges."

"That means you don't actually know what I am thinking?"

"Correct. You have the potential, but you don't have the control
necessary to permit it."

A small, satisfied smile curved about her lips.

Tensor found it oddly disconcerting. Despite the ugly sheathing, there
was something about her that was quite pleasant.

He began to feel that she was even beautiful, and as he disintegrated
the sheath in order to appreciate her better, he realized that it was
undoubtedly the strange endocrine balance he had created in himself that
was responsible for the attitude. Because there was nothing particularly
well-designed about her. She looked unprepossessingly like a civilized
wo