Hinckley reached the lone house and peered into the bluelit gloom. He entered, gun ready, Compton at his heels.
"He's not here," Hinckley said, surprised.
The man and the young woman sat on the couch and casually watched pictures move across the far wall. Hinckley, looking at the pictures, was not at all certain they weren't the reality and the natives of this place merely ghost images that might fade at any moment.
On the wall an empire was being formed. Tall buildings were raised by machinery that was unfamiliar to the Earthmen. Aircraft flitted across the sky like strange black birds. The buildings towered, the flying machines dove, spitting needles that exploded into blossoms of fire, and the buildings toppled into dust. People ran, screaming soundless screams. Columns of smoke rose to replace the buildings. The scene shifted. Great weapons were assembled and heaped carelessly. To the heap were added the skycraft and other weapons of war. The pile exploded, and the people rejoiced, clasping hands, dancing. The walls darkened.
Actual or symbolic? Hinckley wondered.
"What does it mean?" Compton asked him.
"I think," Hinckley said, "we've just been given a short history of their race. They built up a great society here, but a warring one. Finally, they outlawed all weapons in order to save themselves from total destruction. We could probably take a lesson from that."
"They'll probably be worse off when the Earthmen come here," Compton said. "Even if they could see and hear us, they wouldn't have any weapons left to defend themselves. We could loot and rape and—"
"I think we'd better forget this planet exists," Hinckley said slowly. "If we don't report it, no one'll ever know. It's one planet in a million planets. If we say it's empty, they'll believe it and never bother to check."
"But what about Parker?"