"That's the situation. If the race manages to keep from blowing its top for a few million years, maybe we'll begin to find out some things. So far, we don't even know what questions to ask,"
Matt was dissatisfied, but had no answer ready. Thurlow knit his brows. "Maybe we aren't built to ask the right questions. You know the Martian 'double-world' idea-"
"Certainly, but I don't understand it."
"Who does? Let's forget the usual assumption that a Martian is talking in religious symbols when he says that we live just on 'one side' while he lives on’ both sides.' Sup-IKise that what he means is as real as butter and eggs, that lie really does live in two worlds at the same time and that we are in the one he regards as unimportant. If you! accept that, then it accounts for the Martian being un-f willing to waste time talking with us, or trying to explain things to us. He isn't being stuffy, he's being reasonable. Would you waste time trying to explain rainbows to an earthworm?"
"The cases aren't parallel."
"Maybe they are to a Martian. An earthworm can't even see, much less have a color sense. If you accept the 'double world' as real, then to a Martian we just don't have the proper senses to be able to ask the right questions. Why bother with us?" j
The radio squealed for attention. Thurlow glanced toward it and said, "Someone calling, Matt. See who it is and tell 'em we don't want any."
"Okay." Matt flipped the switch and answered, "Jeep] One, Triplex-go ahead."
"Triplex calling," came Sublieutenant deary's familiar voice. "Stand by to be picked up."
"Huh? Cut the comedy-we're only three days out."