Ten minutes later I was in the Science Building basement, laying the thing on a wooden table, very gently. It seemed solid, each integral part of its form being of a different metal.
None of the men watching me lay it down discounted the danger it contained. They knew too much about how shape and dimension can affect the electronic properties of metal. They knew the thing probably didn't contain an erg of power of its own, but probably triggered and directed the release of cosmic energies as yet unknown to them.
They stared at it. One of them reached out to touch it, then slowly drew his finger back.
I could see the decision crystallizing in their minds behind their serious eyes. This thing would go with the other strange and incomprehensible machines locked in vaults in a concrete building far out on the Martian desert away from the tourist trails of this dead planet. It would remain there until the day when human science advanced far enough to understand it.
"What about the wall in the dome?" I asked.
"They roped it off. They're afraid of it."
"Did you convince his wife he's insane?" one of the science staff asked.
I nodded. "I used the same old line. Told her there were dozens like him, and the law of averages made it certain at least one of them would find something."
He nodded, grinned without humor. "How we love to lie."
I turned away. There was a bitter taste in my mouth from all the lies I'd told—all the bilge.