"What's that?"
"A fag, boy—tobacco, something to smoke. You drag it in and puff it out."
"Your words make no sense," said Revel. "Drag in smoke?"
"This is going to be worse than I anticipated," said John. "Look, can't we go somewhere and get comfortable? I have a lot to find out before I can start getting across to you what I was sent into the future for."
"We are besieged by the gods. We dare not leave this place."
"By the gods. Hmm. Let's sit down, boy. I want to know all about things here. Miss, after you." He waited till Nirea had squatted on the floor, then folded himself down. "Okay," he said, whatever that meant. "Shoot. Begin. What are the gods, first?"
Lady Nirea listened with half an ear to Revel's speeches, but with all her intellect she tried to follow John's remarks. They were sometimes fragmentary, sometimes short explanations of things that puzzled Revel, and sometimes merely grunts and slappings of his thighs. Many words she did not know....
My God, that sounds like extraterrestrial beings ... globes, golden aura of energy or force, sure, that's possible; and tentacles ... zanphs? describe 'em ... they aren't from Earth either; I'll bet you these god-globes of yours, which must be Martian or Venusian or Lord-knows-what, brought along those pretty pets when they hit for Earth....
Listen, Mink, those are not gods! They're things from the stars, from out there beyond the world! You understand that? They came here in those "buttons" of yours—what we used to call flying saucers—and took over after ... after whatever happened. Your civilization must have been in a hell of a decline to accept 'em as gods, because in my day ... oh, well, go ahead.