"I'll say it is! But I wish that those folks were more like people. They're nice, I think, really, but they're so ... so ... well, so ghastly that it simply gives me the blue shivers just to look at one of them!"
"They're pretty gruesome, no fooling," he agreed, "but you get used to things like that. I just about threw a fit the first time I ever saw a Martian, and the Venerians are even worse in some ways—they're so clammy and dead-looking—but now I've got real friends on both planets. One thing, though, gives me the pip. I read a story a while ago—the latest best-seller thing of Thornton's named 'Interstellar Slush' or some such tr...."
"Cleophora—An Interstellar Romance," she corrected him. "I thought it was wonderful!"
"I didn't. It's fundamentally unsound. Look at our nearest neighbors, who probably came from the same original stock we did. A Tellurian can admire, respect, or like a Venerian, yes. But for loving one of them—wow! Beauty is purely relative, you know. For instance, I think that you are the most perfectly beautiful thing I ever saw; but no Venerian would think so. Far from it. Any Martian that hadn't seen many of us would have to go rest his eyes after taking one good look at you. Considering what love means, it doesn't stand to reason that any Tellurian woman could possibly fall in love with any man not of her own breed. Any writer is wrong who indulges in interplanetary love affairs and mad passions. They simply don't exist. They can't exist—they're against all human instincts."
"Interplanetary—in this solar system—yes. But the Dacrovos were just like us, only nicer."
"That's what gives me the pip. If our own cousins of the same solar system are so repulsive to us, how would we be affected by entirely alien forms of intelligence?"
"May be you're right, of course—but you may be wrong, too," she insisted. "The Universe is big enough, so that people like the Dacrovos may possibly exist in it somewhere. May be the Big Three will discover a means of interstellar travel—then I'll get to see them myself, perhaps."
"Yes, and if we do, and if you ever see any such people, I'll bet that the sight of them will make your hair curl right up into a ball, too! But about Barkovis—remember how diplomatic the thoughts were that he sent us? He described our structure as being 'compact,' but I got the undertone of his real thoughts, as well. Didn't you?"
"Yes, now that you mention it, I did. He really thought that we were white-hot, under-sized, overpowered, warty, hairy, hideously opaque and generally repulsive little monstrosities—thoroughly unpleasant and distasteful. But he was friendly, just the same. Heavens, Steve! Do you suppose that he read our real thoughts, too?"
"Sure he did; but he is intelligent enough to make allowances, the same as we are doing. He isn't any more insulted than we are. He knows that such feelings are ingrained and cannot be changed."