I waited, while his human mind explored concepts beyond my primeval grasp.
“OK. So that was a great spotted snake. I’ll send a crew of robots out to get some shots of one of those babies that we can process into the stereo. Meanwhile, what about the cast?”
“Cast?” I fumbled. “How—what kind of cast do you mean?”
“Actors. Characters. Course I understand that none of you have any experience, even in stock, but I’ll treat this like a De Mille documentary. I’ll need a representative of each one of your sexes—the best in its line. You should be able to dredge them up with beauty contests or whatever you use. Just so I get seven of you—all different.”
“These can be obtained through the chiefs of the various sexes. The nzred tinoslep will be the new nzred nzredd and a replacement for the mlenb mlenbb should have been chosen if enough mlenbb dared to congregate in the marshes. And this is all we need to do to take the first movement toward civilization?”
“Absolutely all. I’ll write the first story for you—it’s only mildly magnificent right now, but I’ll have plenty of time to work it up into something better.”
“Then I may leave.”
He called for a robot who entered and motioned me in front of a machine much like a stereo projector.
“Sorry I can’t send a robot to protect you down the mountain, but we’re only half unpacked and I’ll need all of them around for a day or two. All I have here are Government Standard Models, see; and you can’t get any high-speed work out of those babies. To think that I used to have eighteen Frictionless Frenzies just to clean up around the house! Oh well, a sick trance isn’t glorious Mondays.”
Admitting the justice of this obscure allusion, I tried to reassure him. “If I am eaten, there are at least three nzredd who can replace me. It is only necessary for me to get far enough down the mountain to meet a living Plookh and inform him of your—your character requirements.”