fly. "Selfish being," he
said sadly. "This world cannot support one-fourth our number."

"Oh, I know, I know," Laloi said. "I do not mean to say such things. I
am twisted by my sorrow ..." As if to express her self-abnegation, she
corkscrewed out of the clover and into a thin spiral of
near-nothingness.

* * * * *

"Settle down, foolish one," said Buos, not unkindly. "I know your
feelings. Do you think I am not tormented as well, by the slow pace of
these Earth-things? Crude, barbaric beings, like children with the
building blocks of science. They have such a long way to go ..."

"And so few _know_," said Laloi despairingly. "A handful of seeing
minds, tens of millions of ignorant ones. Not even first
principles--they're stupid, stupid!"

"But they will learn," Buos said stubbornly. "That is historical fact.
Someday, they will know the true meanings of matter and light and
energy. Slowly, yes, slowly. But in terms of their growth, it will seem
like great speed to them ..."

"And in terms of our world," said Laloi, spinning sadly over the ground,
"they may be far too late ..."

"No!" In his excitement, Buos forgot himself and entwined with the
flowing form of the she-creature, and the result was a rending of the
air that cracked like heat lightning over the field. "No," he repeated
again. "They must not be too late. They must learn. They must build from
the very ground, and then they must fly. And then their eyes must be
lifted to the stars, and desire must extend them to all the universe ..."

"It seems so hopeless--"

"It cannot be! Our destiny is not extinction. They must come to us, in
fleets of silver, and replant our soil, and send towers of green
shooting into our sky, breathing out air."

"Yes, yes!" Laloi cried pitifully. "It will be that way, Buos. It will
be that way! That man-creature, we will begin with him ..."

Buos floated earthward disconsolately. "He is a dreamer," he said
cheerlessly. "His mind is good; he thinks of tomorrow; he is one of the
knowing ones. But he cannot be moved, Laloi. His thoughts may fester and
die in the prison of his brain ..."

"No, they will not! We have watched him. He understands much. He will
help us!"

"I have seen his like before," said Buos hopelessly. "He thinks and he
works, and his conclusions will die stillborn, for lack of a moving
force ..."

"Then let us provide it, Buos. Let us move him!"

"With what?" said the oth