"I will make the selection for you. Then I will transfer my mind into
yours, just to make certain you complete your task."
The girl was lost again in self-appraisal. She extended her supple
human arms and legs and observed them almost lovingly. "I like the
short garments they wear. Such beauty should never be hidden."
"Homekind arranged it that way with a definite purpose in mind.
Remember that," he said, now trotting ahead to find some sign of a
boat. He was about to give up, afraid to admit Homekind might have
erred, when Gelerie shrieked, "Look--over that way. A leafboat."
A warm sense of thanks went out from Threlkeld silently. He led the way
to the large blue-green leaf that lay flat upon the water, stiffened
with wax, water-resistant, entirely buoyant. They pulled it close and
stepped aboard.
There was no need for paddles, since a modified leafboat constructed
by Homekind and transported by Homekind always naturally had built-in
propulsion. Tiny molecules of water were converted along the underside
of the leaf into a moderate amount of energy which shoved them forward
under Homekind's magnetic command toward a collection of tall glass
spires.
"Remember, Gelerie," Threlkeld said to the dreaming girl who let her
hand dangle in the waters of Earth, "my future is at stake. You are a
six-footed tree-hanging creature. You will return to your native form
the moment our mission is completed. Now I will not warn you again.
Another moody spell and we return to the vehicle with only one thing
assured--Threlkeld the Great's impending retirement."
But if he expected an assurance out of Gelerie that she would not
fail, he was wrong, for she did not respond.
* * * * *
They abandoned the leaf boat as the foot of a sign, which in their
compact Earth-translation scheme provided by one milligram of the pill
they had taken, said, Forty-second Street. They scaled the elevated
structures with almost natural animal precision and carefully dodged
the ground vehicles that sped toward them on ramps. Then they were on
the premises of their destination. A large white building touching the
sky, and beside it a curved, oblong structure which Threlkeld whispered
contained Earth's government.
"He is to be a diplomat?" she asked.
"Sh," he said, as people hurried past them, turning to inspect
Gelerie's brief toggery.
They ascended a ramp to the glassed foyer. Then they were inside,
gaping at the height of the ceiling, at the overhanging balconies.
A young woman with Oriental qualities approached them. "May I be of
assistance?"
"Oh, Father," Gelerie said, fascinated at the human voice.
"We wish," Threlkeld began guardedly, "to speak with the youngest
member of the world government--"
"That would be the Congo, sir."
"Not nation. Individual staff member. Person. Human. Youngest in
years," Threlkeld explained.
"Twenty-one is generally as young as anyone is allowed--as clerks and
aides, sir. That would be the minimum age. Diplomatic corpsmen are
usually considerably older."
"Very well. The nearest and youngest of the aides."
"I can think of Monsieur Joffrion of France or Sahib Masher of Arabia."
Threlkeld was now weeding out difficulties. Homekind had given them
access to one language only. "Someone who speaks the language I am
speaking."