"Well?"
"I can't allow your Minister of Propaganda to use me and Know Your Universe! as a kind of investment brochure."
The Sultan nodded wearily. "I expected you to take that attitude.... Well—what do you yourself have in mind?"
"I've been looking for something to tie to," said Murphy. "I think it's going to be the dramatic contrast between the ruined cities and the new domed valleys. How the Earth settlers succeeded where the ancient people failed to meet the challenge of the dissipating atmosphere."
"Well," the Sultan said grudgingly, "that's not too bad."
"Today I want to take some shots of the palace, the dome, the city, the paddies, groves, orchards, farms. Tomorrow I'm taking a trip out to one of the ruins."
"I see," said the Sultan. "Then you won't need my charts and statistics?"
"Well, Sultan, I could film the stuff your Propaganda Minister cooked up, and I could take it back to Earth. Howard Frayberg or Sam Catlin would tear into it, rip it apart, lard in some head-hunting, a little cannibalism and temple prostitution, and you'd never know you were watching Singhalût. You'd scream with horror, and I'd be fired."
"In that case," said the Sultan, "I will leave you to the dictates of your conscience."