Yet that was the immediate impression that came to Jan’s mind, and no amount of logic could dispel it. They might have been savages, engaged in some complex ritual dance. They were naked and filthy, with matted hair obscuring their eyes. As far as Jan could tell, they were of all ages from five to fifteen, yet they all moved with the same speed, precision, and complete indifference to their surroundings.
Then Jan saw their faces. He swallowed hard, and forced himself not to turn away. They were emptier than the faces of the dead, for even a corpse has some record carved by time’s chisel upon its features, to speak when the lips themselves are dumb. There was no more emotion or feeling here than in the face of a snake or an insect. The Overlords themselves were more human than this.
“You are searching for something that is no longer there,” said Karellen.
“Remember — they have no more identity than the cells in your own body. But linked together, they are something much greater than you.” ’Why do they keep moving like this?”
“We called it the Long Dance,” replied Karellen. “They never sleep, you know, and this lasted almost a year. Three hundred million of them, moving in a controlled pattern over a whole continent. We’ve analyzed that pattern endlessly, but it means nothing, perhaps because we can see only the physical part of it — the small portion that’s here on Earth. Possibly what we have called the Overmind is still training them, moulding them into one unit before it can wholly absorb them into its being.”
“But how did they manage about food? And what happened if they hit obstructions, like trees, or cliffs, or water?”
“Water made no difference: they could not drown. When they encountered obstacles, they sometimes damaged themselves, but they never noticed it. As for food — well, there was all the fruit and game they required. But now they have left that need behind, like so many others. For food is largely a source of energy, and they have learned to tap greater sources.”
The scene flickered as if a heat haze had passed over it. When it cleared, the movement below had ceased.
“Watch again,” said Karellen. “It is three years later.”
The little figures, so helpless and pathetic if one did not know the truth, stood motionless in forest and glade and plaint The camera roamed restlessly from one to the other: already, thought Jan, their faces were merging into a common mould. He had once seen some photographs made by the superposition of dozens of prints to give one “average” face. The result had been as empty, as void of character as this.