* * *

Wilbur Murphy sat in the Barangipan, watching marionettes performing to
xylophone, castanet, gong and _gamelan_. The drama had its roots in
proto-historic Mohenj[=o]-Dar[=o]. It had filtered down through ancient
India, medieval Burma, Malaya, across the Straits of Malacca to Sumatra
and Java; from modern Java across space to Cirgamesc, five thousand
years of time, two hundred light-years of space. Somewhere along the
route it had met and assimilated modern technology. Magnetic beams
controlled arms, legs and bodies, guided the poses and posturings. The
manipulator's face, by agency of clip, wire, radio control and minuscule
selsyn, projected his scowl, smile, sneer or grimace to the peaked
little face he controlled. The language was that of Old Java, which
perhaps a third of the spectators understood. This portion did not
include Murphy, and when the performance ended he was no wiser than at
the start.

Soek Panjoebang slipped into the seat beside Murphy. She wore musician's
garb: a sarong of brown, blue, and black _batik_, and a fantastic
headdress of tiny silver bells. She greeted him with enthusiasm.

"Weelbrrr! I saw you watching...."

"It was very interesting."

"Ah, yes." She sighed. "Weelbrrr, you take me with you back to Earth?
You make me a great picturama star, please, Weelbrrr?"

"Well, I don't know about that."

"I behave very well, Weelbrrr." She nuzzled his shoulder, looked
soulfully up with her shiny yellow-hazel eyes. Murphy nearly forgot the
experiment he intended to perform.

"What did you do today, Weelbrrr? You look at all the pretty girls?"

"Nope. I ran footage. Got the palace, climbed the ridge up to the
condensation vanes. I never knew there was so much water in the air till
I saw the stream pouring off those vanes! And _hot_!"

"We have much sunlight; it makes the rice grow."

"The Sultan ought to put some of that excess light to work. There's a
secret process.... Well, I'd better not say."

"Oh come, Weelbrrr! Tell me your secrets!"

"It's not much of a secret. Just a catalyst that separates clay into
aluminum and oxygen when sunlight shines on it."

Soek's eyebrows rose, poised in place like a seagull riding the wind.
"Weelbrrr! I did not know you for a man of learning!"

"Oh, you thought I was just a bum, eh? Good enough to make picturama
stars out of _gamelan_ players, but no special genius...."

"No, no, Weelbrrr."

"I know lots of tricks. I can take