And then the Supreme One spoke:
"You have been causing me trouble, Tom Ralston. I should have destroyed you, there on the spaceship."
It was a soft, measured, toneless voice, issuing perhaps from near the giant eye. Yet it had a faraway sound as though blended and muffled by distance. And now I could see that one of the brain-lobes near us had been stimulated into action greater than the others. The luminous aura from it had intensified. Beneath its membrane tissue, like a million luminous little snakes writhing one upon the other, the brain-folds were in motion. This, then, was the brain-lobe concerned with us now; the lobe from which the thing had learned English; had learned indeed, that there were other living things in the Universe besides Itself.
"Speak, human!" the monster said suddenly.
"Yes," I stammered. "Should have—killed me—yes."
"But I have not many humans here. Perhaps I shall kill you. Perhaps I shall marry you to this human you call Dora. I have not yet decided."
I had thought that Dora and I were standing by a railing. But like the rest of this dwelling it was a barrage barrier. I could see its outlines quivering in front of me; feel its repellent force so that if I had taken a step forward it would shove me back.
Beside Dora and me now, Torkine had appeared. He stood gazing down at Dora. His face, with the lurid glow on it, was grinning. And suddenly the Supreme One said:
"You, Torkine, you tell me you knew this girl many of your years ago?"