“I didn’t ask to see it,” Lathrop said. “I didn’t want to see it.”
“Of course you didn’t,” said the thing.
“Why did you take me then?”
“The Earth must know,” the thing declared. “The Earth must prepare for the day when this tide of evil moves into its planets.”
“And I’m to tell them about it,” Lathrop said bitterly. “I’m to become one of the Preachers. One of the Preachers of Evil. I’m to stand on soap boxes on the street corners of Earth. I’m to tramp the sands of Mars to bring the message. I’ll be damned if I will do it.”
“It would be a service to your race.”
“A service to tell them they have to run and hide?” asked Lathrop. “You don’t understand the human race. It doesn’t hide. It just gets sore and wants to fight. And even if it did want to hide, where would it go?”
“There is a way,” the thing persisted.
“Another one of your riddles,” Lathrop said. “Trying to drive me mad with the things you hint at. I’ve gotten along with you. I’ve even tried to be friendly with you. But I’ve never reached you, never felt that as two living things we had anything in common. And that isn’t right. Just the bare fact we are alive and alone should give us some sense of fellowship.”
“You talk of things for which I have no word,” the thing declared. “You have so many thoughts that are alien to me.”