"What is it?" Cercy asked.
"The chaos underneath!" Darrig replied, and hung up.
They paced the floor, waiting for him to show up. Half an hour passed, then an hour. Finally, three hours after he had called, Darrig strolled in.
"Hello," he said casually.
"Hello, hell!" Cercy growled. "What kept you?"
"On the way over," Darrig said, "I read the Ambassador's philosophy. It's quite a work."
"Is that what took you so long?"
"Yes. I had the driver take me around the park a few times, while I was reading it."
"Skip it. How about—"
"I can't skip it," Darrig said, in a strange, tight voice. "I'm afraid we were wrong. About the aliens, I mean. It's perfectly right and proper that they should rule us. As a matter of fact, I wish they'd hurry up and get here."