"Just how primitive do you think the society is, Ted?"
Eckert put down the chain he had been whittling and reached for his pipe and tobacco.
"I don't think it's primitive at all. There are too many disparities. Their knowledge of a lot of things is a little more than empirical knowledge; they associate the growth of crops with fertilizer and nitrogen in the soil as well as sunlight, rather than the blessings of some native god. And they differ a lot in other respects. Their art and their music are advanced. Free art exists along with purely decorative art, and their techniques are finely developed."
"I'm glad you agree, then. Take a look at this." Templin threw a shiny bit of metal on the rough-hewn table. Eckert picked it up and inspected it. It was heavy and one side of it was extremely sharp.
"What's it for?"
"They've got a hospital set up here. Not a hospital like any we know, of course, but a hospital nonetheless. It's not used very much; apparently the natives don't get sick here. But occasionally there are hunting accidents and injuries that require surgery. The strip of metal there is a scalpel." He laughed shortly. "Primitive little gadget, but it works well—as well as any of ours."
Eckert hefted it in his palm. "The most important thing is that they have the knowledge to use it. Surgery isn't a simple science."
"Well, what do you think about it?"
"The obvious. They evidently have as much technology as they want, at least in fields where they have to have it."