Man of Many Minds

by E. Everett Evans

He noticed that when two or more faced each other they often worked their mouths, and guessed they were conversing, although not a sound could be heard coming from them, other than a peculiar, faint rustling as they moved.

It was the latter that gave him the clue. Animated trees! That's what they reminded him of. That skin of theirs was like new bark; their limbs were irregular, suggesting the branches of a tree, rather than the graceful roundness of human and Terran animal's limbs.

He turned excitedly to Philander. "Hey, those natives are partly vegetable, aren't they? Like trees that can move and think?"

"That's what they say," Philander said shortly, "though I don't know about the 'think' part. No one's ever been able to figure 'em out. They don't talk, and can't seem to hear us, no matter how loud we yell. We have to show 'em everything we want 'em to do, and give 'em orders by signs. Whips don't do any good when they loaf—they don't seem to feel 'em. So we use electric shock-rods, like you see that guard there carrying."

Hanlon was silent for several moments, but his mind was attempting to probe into that of the native nearest him. Nor was he surprised to discover that this native had a really respectable mind—alert and keen.

Hanlon could read quite easily pictures of various things—but he could not interpret them. Yet he could feel their sense of shame and degradation at such an enslaved condition, and the dull anger they felt for the humans who had made them so.

This promised to be a fertile field for study, and the young SS man felt a thrill that he could do a lot of prowling and studying without seeming to break the rules Philander had laid down for his conduct. "This certainly is my field," he thought. "I'm sure glad I decided to take the chance of coming here—the Corps must learn of this situation."

The superintendent broke in on his thoughts. "I've got to go back to the office before dinner. Go to the commissary store, there, and get your chronom exchanged for one that runs on Algonian time. Yours will be stored for safekeeping and changed back if or when you leave here."

As he walked away Hanlon thrilled to the knowledge that he had gained two valuable pieces of information.

First, and most important, the name of this planet—Algon. Second, but this one a bit dismaying, that there might be some doubt as to whether or not he would ever leave here. Was there some danger here of which he had not been told ... or was it that the leader's promise of four months' work and then a vacation back to Simonides perhaps meant nothing at all—was merely a "come on"?