I felt cheated and frustrated.
I tried to take another puff, to return to Uru, but Jones took away the holder.
"I am sorry," he said, "but only so much time is permitted for your visits—unless you decide to join us permanently."
This was new. I hadn't even considered the possibility. I suppose I'd been thinking of these uru smokes as nothing more than pipe dreams—exciting and logical, even consecutive, but still only figments of the poppy ember.
But apparently uru was merely the key that opened the door to the real world for which it was named, a finite and beautiful planet spinning in a vastly distant galaxy at the other side of the spacial barrier. A world that Earthmen would never reach in this lifetime without the invitation and assistance of a native of that world who had developed mental powers beyond our comprehension.
And Jones, not only a native but apparently a noble of Uru, was extending that invitation to me.
Me, a dope addict, temporarily between kicks. Me, a dreg of humanity.
Why?
Jones was following my thoughts, I knew, but he only smiled and said I would have to leave. He would call me again. In the meantime I must consider his invitation. He had not made it frivolously, but had weighed all factors. If I accepted, it would have to be unquestioningly, trusting him as my brother.
And it would be permanent. Once I chose Uru, there would be no returning to Earth.