“The way Babla and I see it,” the captain resumed, “the creatures on this planet are scientifically and mentally advanced enough—their science and architecture speak for themselves. They do, however, show a marked retardation in their emotional make-up. They demonstrate the remarkable paradox of being gregarious by nature, and, at the same time, finding it emotionally impossible to live together. Why? The reason escaped us for a while until one of their interviewing scientists gave us a clue.
“He said that we were the first things, outside of meteorites, ever to come to them from outer space. Thal was the answer. Every other civilization we have ever come across, our own included, always had the same thing in common—no matter how they varied in other aspects. Periodically, from I heir earliest days, they had been contacted by some outside enemy. You are all acquainted with the common varieties of space plagues: the bacterial clouds and space lice that travel in swarms through the interplanetary voids. The planets’ civilizations were forced to unify against the common enemy that threatened them all. This planet, being so far removed from the regular routes of the space vermin, has never been faced with an outside enemy. As a consequence, they have never unified.
“Naturally, while their science progressed, their emotional sense of interreliance deteriorated, till today they have degenerated into quibbling, neurotic groups. Instead of trying to unite, and resolve their common problems, they compete with each other—in order to protect themselves, from themselves.”
“I think you’ve hit it, captain.” Drul twitched a tentacle in agreement. “I’d say your theory is sound, but what can we do about helping them? Even more important than that, what can we do about helping ourselves? I hardly feel that our position is exactly rosy.”
“I believe,” the captain looked about him significantly, “we can solve both of those problems at the same time.”
The U.N. Scientific Committee, which had been appointed to question the aliens, sat in closed conference. They had been bickering for hours as to the procedure to be followed during the questioning. Each scientist was eager to ask questions only about those fields in which he personally was interested. To boot, the Americans were trying desperately to steer the questions away from those dealing with the aliens’ spacedrive and weapons. The Russians, of course, were pressing just as desperately to have those questions asked first. The issue, which threatened to resolve itself in a fist fight, was finally settled by the Chilean scientists, with the suggestion that the first questions deal with the history of the aliens’ trip, with emphasis on their reasons for coming to Earth.
With the problem of the first questions settled, the scientists filed into the examination room. The interview started immediately. As every question and answer had to be transposed through several stages of blackboard symbols and sign language, the progress of the exam was agonizingly slow.
Several hours after the start of the interrogation a white-faced professor dashed out of the hall with a sweat soiled notebook in his hand. He shoved the pad at the girl typist, who had been stationed at the door of the hall since the examination had begun.
“Have a copy of this sent to every member of the Security Council as quickly as possible!” he gasped. “It is of the utmost importance that we get action on this at once!”
The girl propped up the pad, quickly slipped a stencil sheet into her typewriter, typed the official heading and routine information at the top, glanced at the first page of the pad and began to pound furiously: