"So here's what they do. They send down a secret fifth columnist. His job is to spread propaganda over the planet, to prepare humans for their advent, make them amenable to this alien culture. Of course he's to build them up in human minds, make them think their cosmic crusade is beneficent and noble. How would he start?"
"Buy a newspaper. Buy ten."
"Under ordinary circumstances, sure. But wouldn't it be hard to slyly mention what great guys the Whoziz are in a daily newspaper? Any comment about his home folks would stick out like a sore thumb. No. It would have to be something less obvious. How about him buying a science fic—"
A long thin shadow blotted the opaque glass door in front of me. The door opened. Wallace Starr stepped in.
"Shall I get to work on it?" Ric asked.
"Yeah. And make it good." I hung up.
Starr walked over to my desk. I picked up my letter opener.
"You might have told me," he preluded.
"What?"
"The changes naturally. I spent three hours at the printers last night. Didn't get home until after two."