"Is everything satisfactory?" asked the Engineer.
It was funny, this way he had of talking. No sound, no change of expression, no gesture… just words burning themselves into one's brain, the imprint of thought thrust upon one's consciousness.
"Why, yes," said Gary, "everything is fine,”
"Fine," shouted Herb, waving a drumstick. "Why, everything is perfect.”
"We tried so hard to do everything just as you told us," said the Engineer.
"We are pleased that everything is all right. We had a hard time understanding one thing. Those paintings on the wall. You said they were things you had and were used to and we wanted so much to make everything as you wanted it. But they were something we had never thought of, something we had never done. We are sorry that we were so stupid. They are fine things. When this trouble is over, we may make more of them. They are so very beautiful. How queer it was we hadn't thought of them.”
Gary swung around and stared at the painting opposite the table. Obviously it was a work in oils and seemed a very fine one. It portrayed some fantastic scene, a scene with massive mountains in the background and strange twisted trees and waist-high grass and the glitter of a distant waterfall. A picture, Gary decided, that any art gallery would be proud to hang.
"You mean," be asked, "that these are the first pictures you ever painted?”
"We hadn't even thought of it before," said the Engineer.
They hadn't known of paintings before. No single Engineer had ever thought to capture a scene on canvas. They had never wielded an artist's brush. But here was a painting that was perfect in color and in composition, well balanced, pleasing to the eye!