"I saw the President's broadcast," he said conversationally, "weren't you the man who-I mean, weren't you the-"

"Yes, I was 'the man who'," I agreed shortly.

"Then you can tell us a great deal about these phenomena. Your opportunities have been unique."

"Perhaps I should be able to," I admitted slowly, "but I can't."

"Do you mean that no cases of fission reproduction took place while you were, uh, their prisoner?"

"That's right." I thought about it and went on, "At least, I think that's right."

"Don't you know? I was given to understand that, uh, victims have full memory of their experiences?"

"Well, they do and they don't." I tried to explain the odd detached frame of mind of a servant of the masters.

"I suppose it could happen while you sleep."

"Maybe. Besides sleep, there is another time, or rather times, which are difficult to remember. During conference."

"Conference?"

So I explained. His eyes lit up, "Oh, you mean 'conjugation'."

"No, I mean 'conference'."

"We mean the same thing. Don't you see? Conjugation and fission-they reproduce at will, whenever the food supply, that is to say the supply of hosts, permits. Probably one contact for each fission; then, when the opportunity exists, fission-two fully adult daughter parasites in a matter of hours. . . or less, possibly."

I thought it over. If that were true-and looking at the gibbons, I could not doubt it-then why had we depended on shipments at the Constitution Club? Or had we? In fact I did not know; I did what my master wanted done and saw only what came under my eyes. But why had we not saturated New Brooklyn as Kansas City had been saturated. Lack of time?

It was clear how Kansas City had been saturated. With plenty of "livestock" at hand and a space ship loaded with transit cells to draw from the titans had reproduced to match the human population.

I am no biologist, exotic or otherwise, but I can do simple arithmetic. Assume a thousand slugs in that space ship, the one we believed to have landed near Kansas City; suppose that they could reproduce when given the opportunity every twenty-four hours.

First day, one thousand slugs.

Second day, two thousand.

Third day, four thousand.

At the end of the first week, the eighth day, that is-a hundred and twenty-eight thousand slugs.

After two weeks, more than sixteen million slugs.

But we did not know that they were limited to spawning once a day; on the contrary the gibbons proved they weren't. Nor did we know that a flying saucer could lift only a thousand transit cells; it might be ten thousand-or more-or less. Assume ten thousand as breeding stock with fission every twelve hours. In two weeks the answer comes out-

MORE THAN TWO AND A HALF TRILLION!!!!

The figure did not mean anything; it was cosmic. There aren't anything like that many people on the whole globe, not even if you counted in apes.

We were going to be knee deep in slugs-and that before long. I felt worse than I had in Kansas City.

Dr. Vargas introduced me to a Doctor McIlvaine of the Smithsonian Institution; McIlvaine was a comparative psychologist, the author, so Vargas told me, of 'Mars, Venus, and Earth: A Study in Motivating Purposes'. Vargas seemed to expect me to be impressed but I was not as I had not read it. Anyhow, how can anyone study the motives of Martians when they were all dead before we swung down out of trees?

They started swapping trade talk not intelligible to an outsider; I continued to watch the gibbons. Presently McIlvaine asked me, "Mr. Nivens, how long does a conference last?"

"Conjugation," Vargas corrected him.

"Conference," McIlvaine repeated. "Keep your mind on the more important aspect."

"But, Doctor," Vargas insisted, "there are parallels in terrestrial biology. In primitive reproduction, conjugation is the means of gene exchange whereby mutation is spread through the body of the-"

"You are being anthropocentric. Doctor. You do not know that this life form has genes."

Vargas turned red. "I presume you will allow me gene equivalents?" he said stiffly.

"Why should I? I repeat, sir, that you are reasoning by analogy where there is no reason to judge that analogy exists. There is one and only one characteristic common to all life forms and that is the drive to survive."

"And to reproduce," insisted Vargas.

"Suppose the organism is immortal and has no need to reproduce?"

"But-" Vargas shrugged. "Your question is not germane; we know that they reproduce." He gestured at the apes.

"And I am suggesting," McIlvaine came back, "that this is not reproduction, but a single organism availing itself of more space, as a man might add a wing to his house. No, really. Doctor, I do not wish to be offensive, but it is possible to get so immersed in the idea of the zygote-gamete cycle that one forgets that there may be other patterns."

Vargas started out, "But throughout the entire system-"

McIlvaine cut him short. "Anthropocentric, terrocentric, solocentric-it is still a provincial approach. These creatures may be from outside the solar system entirely."

I said, "Oh, no!" I had had a sudden flash picture of the planet Titan and with it a choking sensation.

Neither one paid any attention to me. McIlvaine continued, "If you must have analogy, take the amoeba-an earlier, more basic, and much more successful life form than ours. The motivational psychology of the amoeba-"

I switched off my ears; I suppose free speech gives a man the right to talk about the 'psychology' of an amoeba, but I don't have to listen. They never did get back to asking me how long a conference takes, not that I could have told them. A conference is, well-timeless.

They did do some direct experimentation which raised my opinion of them a little. Vargas ordered brought in a baboon who was wearing a slug and had him introduced into the cage with the gibbons and the chimps. Up to then the gibbons had been acting like gibbons, grooming each other and such, except that they seemed rather quiet-and kept a sharp eye on our movements. As soon as the newcomer was dumped in they gathered in a ring facing outwards and went into direct conference, slug to slug. McIlvaine jabbed his finger excitedly at them. "You see? You see? Conference is not for reproduction, but for exchange of memory. The organism, temporarily divided, has now re-identified itself."

I could have told him the same thing without the double talk; a master who has been out of touch always gets into direct conference as soon as possible.

"Hypothesis!" Vargas snorted. "Pure hypothesis-they have no opportunity to reproduce just now. George!" He ordered the boss of the handling crew to bring in another ape.

"Little Abe?" asked the crew boss.

"No, I want one which is not supporting a parasite. Let me see-make it Old Red."

The crew boss glanced at the gibbons, looked away at once, and said, "Gripes, Doc, I'd rather you didn't pick on Old Red."

"This won't hurt him."

"Why can't I bring in Satan? He's a mean bastard anyway."

"All right, all right! But hurry it up; you are keeping Dr. McIlvaine waiting."

So they brought in Satan, a coal black chimp. He may have been aggressive elsewhere; he was not so here. They dumped him inside, he took one look around, shrank back against the door, and began to whine. It was like watching an execution; I could not stand to look but I couldn't look away. I had had my nerves under control-a man can get used to anything; there are people who make their livings by pumping out cesspools-but the ape's hysteria was contagious. I wanted to run.

At first the hag-ridden apes did nothing; they simply stared at him like a jury. It went on that way for a long while. Satan's whines changed to low, sobbing moans and he covered his face with his hands. Presently Vargas said, "Doctor! Look!"