Suddenly Paul Arnold clutched the patrol pilot's arm. "I wonder if I believe what I see!" he whispered tensely. "Look!"
Harwich's gaze followed the lines of the boy's pointing finger to something quite near—so near, and seemingly so insignificant in this vast, somber, throbbing interior, that he had not noticed before.
Just at the base of the pyramid there was an artistic little structure, consisting of four slender pillars and a roof. It looked like a small, ornamental kiosk or arbor, so artfully were the scientific details of it—the coils in its top, and the delicate filaments that pronged from them—concealed in the decorative metal scroll-work.
Within the pillared structure, somehow, there stood a man—an Earthman. His heavy body was clad now in a rocketeer's leather coverall. At his waist dangled a heat pistol, and on his fat face there was a strange, wild sort of smirk.
"Howdy, boys!" he greeted. "Yes, it's me—George Bayley, the guy who used to keep a print shop in Ganymede City! I've been here longer than you have, and I've been able to find out more. Pretty nice, huh? The people of Io had science perfected before they became extinct. Everything was done by machines, even investing. Not a bit of work to do any more. And if they wanted anything special, they just came into this little coop, here, and wished."
Bayley paused, still smirking. His loud voice had seemed distant in that great room, and vibrant with awe. Harwich and Arnold stared at him for a moment, neither knowing quite what to say, or what to believe.
And what was that which had just spilled from his lips, as though he had been a little afraid of the statement himself? About perfected science, and wishing?
"You're crazy!" Evan Harwich stormed fiercely. "You're a liar!"
But his furious tone was tremulous with doubt, even as he spoke. He knew at once that he'd just grabbed onto these words, and uttered them, maybe because, somehow, he hated Bayley, and wanted to contradict his seemingly impossible claims. But in this temple of un-Earthly marvels, one's whole standard of judgment was upset. Possible and impossible became meaningless terms here, at the foot of this great, whirring pyramid, which seemed a symbol of omnipotence.