Will explained their Earthly uses. He said, a trifle shamefacedly, "I brought them—but I felt they would be of no advantage here."
He pulled the trigger of the revolver. If it discharged, there was no result which his Ego-senses could perceive. Thone said, handing him the knife, "Strike me with it."
The action was instinctively revolting; yet Will drove the knife-blade into the semblance of Thone's arm. Thone said, "It seems to hurt."
To Will the knife might have been a feather he was thrusting against a pillow. He withdrew the blade; fancied he saw in Thone's arm an open gash. But if he did, the gash closed at once. The outlines of the arm were quivering, unreal, under Will's earnest gaze. And he knew that if he persisted in regarding it, the arm would turn formless to his sight.
He exclaimed, "Useless! Of course." And tossed the knife away. But Thone recovered it. "In the Borderland it would be more effective, Will. Keep it."
Thone explained how his army of Thinkers might destroy Brutar's encampment. The thought-matter, created, was held in substance only by continued mental effort. And this withdrawn, at once the disintegrating forces of Nature would dissolve it into nothingness.
"So it is," Thone said, "when an Ego dies. The persistent, subconscious effort of mind during life is all that holds the shell of body in existence. Withdraw that—and you have dissolution."
"And with inorganic matter—" Will began.
"With this globe, for instance," said Thone. "With everything we have created, a worker-mentality must guard it. Replenish it."
To Will that seemed not very strange. "On Earth," he said, "we must repair. Nature slowly but steadily tears down that which we have built."