In the corridor, Herb glanced around for microphones and saw he was in an unwired stretch. He turned to the starman beside him. Their eyes met. Identical information had been fed simultaneously to both of them. "You heard what I said?"
"Yes."
"What kind of a place is this, this Earth?"
The other strained to think. "It's.... It's.... I don't believe it."
"All men are created equal," Herb said.
"And they hold these truths to be self evident...."
"Nor make any laws abridging...."
"Shhhhh!" the third starman whispered. "Microphones up here." They fell silent.
The Oligarch went to his stateroom and ordered a meal. He had been indoctrinated by the sleep tapes about Earth well over a Brionimanian year previously. The tapes had been brought back by an extensive scouting expedition composed solely of Oligarchs.