"Here he comes now," said Ayna, low-voiced. "Ivath, I mean. And, by the way, he is my great grandfather. So don't mind him too much."
Orth found himself looking at a transparent bubble of plastic, with a puffy over-sized belt of jade-green metal fixed about its middle. It floated a few feet above the ground, sparks buzzing faintly as it dropped too low and was forced upward again.
Inside there was a bony little parody of a man's body, or rather, its upper torso. Below the arms there was nothing save a shining metallic cylinder. The huge blue-veined skull was supported by soft wide bands of plastic material, and the bony arms rested on cushioned ledges.
"Greetings, Earthman," something inside his brain seemed to say. "I have your fellows here, my honored guests. You will join them."
"They are here, my companions?" asked Orth stupidly. "You mean Horn and Neilson? Did you say that to me?"
"He speaks only in thoughts," said Ayna. "When our people reach the age of two hundred they submit to this operation. With their lungs gone there is, of course, no vocal speech. But we live on for centuries untroubled by bodily breakdowns."
Ivath motioned with his feeble old arms.
"Come," he flashed at them, "we will join them."
As they sat in a small spacer cruising within the vast hollow of Ivath's world-sized stage, Ayna explained more of the mysteries of this future world. How the planets had been cut up into smaller spheres and moved into the dwindling radiations of Sol. How their fleets of space ships crossed the void to trade and mine the precious elements they required, and of the other galactic cultures they met.