"Nothing," said Morley. "Or almost nothing. Or nothing, anyhow, that counted or made any sense."
"They failed - "
"They failed," Morley told him, "because once on Kimon they forgot about Earth... well, not forgot about it, that's not entirely it. But they lost all allegiance to it. They were Kimon-blinded."
"You believe that?"
"I don't know," said Morley. "It's the best explanation that we have. The trouble is that we talk to them only once. None of them come back. We can write letters to them, certainly. We can try to jog them - indirectly, of course. But we can't ask them outright."
"Censorship?"
"Not censorship," said Morley, "although they may have that, too; but mostly telepathy. The Kimonians would know if we tried to impress anything too forcibly upon their minds. And we can't take the chance of a single thought undoing all the work that we have done."
"But you're telling me."
"You'll forget it," Morley said. "You will have several weeks in which you can forget it - push it to the back of your mind. But not entirely - not entirely."
"I understand," Bishop had told him.