[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Galaxy Science Fiction August 1951.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
... Pictures, that is, that one can test and measure.
And these pictures positively, absolutely could not lie!
The man from the _News_ asked, "What do you think of the aliens, Mister
Nathen? Are they friendly? Do they look human?"
"Very human," said the thin young man.
Outside, rain sleeted across the big windows with a steady faint
drumming, blurring and dimming the view of the airfield where _they_
would arrive. On the concrete runways, the puddles were pockmarked
with rain, and the grass growing untouched between the runways of the
unused field glistened wetly, bending before gusts of wind.
Back at a respectful distance from where the huge spaceship would
land were the gray shapes of trucks, where TV camera crews huddled
inside their mobile units, waiting. Farther back in the deserted sandy
landscape, behind distant sandy hills, artillery was ringed in a great
circle, and in the distance across the horizon, bombers stood ready at
airfields, guarding the world against possible treachery from the first
alien ship ever to land from space.
"Do you know anything about their home planet?" asked the man from
_Herald_.
The _Times_ man stood with the others, listening absently, thinking of
questions, but reserving them. Joseph R. Nathen, the thin young man
with the straight black hair and the tired lines on his face, was being
treated with respect by his interviewers. He was obviously on edge, and
they did not want to harry him with too many questions to answer at
once. They wanted to keep his good will. Tomorrow he would be one of
the biggest celebrities ever to appear in headlines.
"No, nothing directly."
"Any ideas or deductions?" _Herald_ persisted.
"Their world must be Earth-like to them," the weary-looking young man
answered uncertainly. "The environment evolves the animal. But only in
relative terms, of course." He looked at them with a quick glance and
then looked away evasively, his lank black hair beginning to cling to
his forehead with sweat. "That doesn't necessarily mean anything."
"Earth-like," muttered a reporter, writing it down as if he had noticed
nothing more in the reply.
The _Times_ man glanced at the _Herald_, wondering if he had noticed,
and received a quick glance in exchange.