“I think you already know.”
“Perhaps: but it will help us both if you tell me in your own words. It may surprise you a good deal, but I also am trying to understand, add in some ways my ignorance is as great as yours.”
George stared at the Overlord in astonishment. This was a thought that had never occurred to him. He had subconsciously assumed that the Overlords possessed all knowledge and all power — that they understood, and were probably responsible for, the things that had been happening to Jeff.
“I gather,” George continued, “that you have seen the reports I gave to the Island psychologist, so you know about the dreams.”
“Yes: we know about them.”
“I never believed that they were simply the imaginings of a child. They were so incredible that — I know this sounds ridiculous — they had to be based on some reality.”
He looked anxiously at Rashaverak, not knowing whether to hope for confirmation or denial. The Overlord said nothing, but merely regarded him with his great calm eyes. They were sitting almost face to face, for the room — which had obviously been designed for such interviews — was on two levels, the Overlord’s massive chair being a good metre lower than George’s. It was a friendly gesture, reassuring to the men who asked for these meetings and who were seldom in an easy frame of mind.
“We were worried, but not really alarmed at first. Jeff seemed perfectly normal when he woke up, and his dreams didn’t appear to bother him. And then one night”—he hesitated and glanced defensively at the Overlord. “I’ve never believed in the supernatural: I’m no scientist, but I think there’s a rational explanation for everything.”
“There is,” said Rashaverak “I know what you saw: I was watching.”
“I always suspected it. But Karellen had promised that you’d never spy on us with your instruments. Why have you broken that promise?”