"Speak for yourself," said Catlin.
"Consider. We sit in this office. We think we know what kind of show we want. We send out our staff to get it. We're signing the checks, so back it comes the way we asked for it. We look at it, hear it, smell it—and pretty soon we believe it: our version of the universe, full-blown from our brains like Minerva stepping out of Zeus. You see what I mean?"
"I understand the words."
"We've got our own picture of what's going on. We ask for it, we get it. It builds up and up—and finally we're like mice in a trap built of our own ideas. We cannibalize our own brains."
"Nobody'll ever accuse you of being stingy with a metaphor."
"Sam, let's have the truth. How many times have you been off Earth?"
"I went to Mars once. And I spent a couple of weeks at Aristillus Resort on the Moon."
Frayberg leaned back in his chair as if shocked. "And we're supposed to be a couple of learned planetologists!"
Catlin made grumbling noise in his throat. "I haven't been around the zodiac, so what? You sneezed a few minutes ago and I said gesundheit, but I don't have any doctor's degree."
"There comes a time in a man's life," said Frayberg, "when he wants to take stock, get a new perspective."