"Absurd!" Lindy cried.
"Sorry, lady. I only work here."
"You and your bright ideas," Judd told his wife acidly. "We may be quarantined a month until they satisfy themselves about Black Eyes."
The customs official shrugged his bony shoulders, and Judd removed a twenty-credit note from his pocket and handed it to the man. "Will this change your mind?"
"I should say not! You can't bribe me, Mr. Whitney! You can't—" The man yawned, stretched languidly, smiled. "No, sir, you can keep your money, Mr. Whitney. Guess we don't have to examine your pet after all. Mighty cute little feller. Well, have fun with it. Come on, move along now." And, as they were departing with Black Eyes, still not believing their ears: "Darn this weather! Makes a man so lazy...."
It was after the affair at the customs office, that Black Eyes uttered its first sound. City life hasn't changed much in the last fifty years. Jet-cars still streak around the circumferential highways, their whistles blaring. Factories still belch smoke and steam, although the new atomic power plants have lessened that to a certain extent. Crowds still throng the streets, noisy, hurrying, ill-mannered. It's one of those things that can't be helped. A city has to live, and it has to make noise.
But it seemed to frighten Lindy's new pet. It stared through the jet-car window on the way from the spaceport to the Whitneys' suburban home, its black eyes welling with tears.
"Look!" Judd exclaimed. "Black Eyes can cry!"
"A crying pet, Judd. I knew there would be something unusual about Black Eyes, I just knew it!"
The tears in the big black eyes overflowed and tumbled out, rolling down Black Eyes' silvery cheeks. And then Black Eyes whimpered. It was only a brief whimper, but both Judd and Lindy heard it, and even the driver turned around for a moment and stared at the animal.