It was late afternoon before anyone else came into the village. Rod heard and saw them long before they saw him-two men and a woman. The men were dressed in city garb; she was wearing shorts, shirt, and smart sandals. Rod stepped out and said, "What do you want?" He was carrying his spear.

The woman squealed, then looked and added, "Wonderful!"

One man was carrying a pack and tripod which Rod recognized as multi-recorder of the all-purpose sightsmell-sound-touch sort used by news services and expeditions. He said nothing, set his tripod down, plugged in cables and started fiddling with dials. The other man, smaller, ginger haired, and with a terrier mustache, said, "You're Walker? The one the others call 'the Mayor'?"

"Yes."

"Kosmic hasn't been in here?"

"Cosmic what?"

"Kosmic Keynotes, of course. Or anybody? LIFETIME-SPACE? Galaxy Features?"

"I don't know what you mean. There hasn't been anybody here since morning."

The stranger twitched his mustache and sighed. "That's all I want to know. Go into your trance, Ellie. Start your box, Mac."

"Wait a minute," Rod demanded. "Who are you and what do you want?"

"Eh? I'm Evans of Empire... Empire Enterprises."

"Pulitzer Prize," the other man said and went on working;

"With Mac's help," Evans added quickly. "The lady is Ellie Ellens herself."

Rod looked puzzled. Evans said, "You don't know? Son, where have you-never mind. She's the highest paid emotional writer in the system. Shell interpret you so that every woman reader from the Outlands Overseer to the London Times will cry over you and want to comfort you. She's a great artist."

Miss Ellens did not seem to hear the tribute. She wandered around with a blank face, stopping occasionally to look or touch.

She turned and said to Rod, "Is this where you held your primitive dances?"

"What? We held square dances here, once a week."

"'Square dances'... Well, we can change that." She went back into her private world.

"The point is, brother," Evans went on, "we don't want just an interview. Plenty of that as they came through. That's how we found out you were here- and dropped everything to see you. I'm not going to dicker; name your own price- but it's got to be exclusive, news, features, commercial rights, everything. Uh..." Evans looked around. "Advisory service, too, when the actors arrive.

"Actors?!"

"Of course. If the Control Service had the sense to sneeze, they would have held you all here until a record was shot. But we can do it better with actors. I want you at my elbow every minute- we'll have somebody play your part. Besides that-"

"Wait a minute!" Rod butted in. "Either I'm crazy or you are. In the first place I don't want your money.

"Huh? You signed with somebody? That guard let another outfit in ahead of us?"

"What guard? I haven't seen anybody."

Evans looked relieved. "We'll work it out. The guard they've got to keep anybody from crossing your wall- I thought he might have both hands out. But don't say you don't need money; that's immoral."

"Well, I don't. We don't use money here."

"Sure, sure... but you've got a family, haven't you? Families always need money. Look, let's not fuss. We'll treat you right and you can let it pile up in the bank. I just want you to get signed up."

"I don't see why I should."

"Binder," said Mac.

"Mmm... yes, Mac. See here, brother, think it over. Just let us have a binder that you won't sign with anybody else. You can still stick us for anything your conscience will let you. Just a binder, with a thousand plutons on the side."

"I'm not going to sign with anybody else."

"Got that, Mac?"

"Canned."

Evans turned to Rod. "You don't object to answering questions in the meantime, do you? And maybe a few pictures?"

"Uh, I don't care." Rod was finding them puzzling and a little annoying, but they were company and he was bitterly lonely.

"Fine!" Evans drew him out with speed and great skill. Rod found himself telling more than he realized he knew. At one point Evans asked about dangerous animals. "I understand they are pretty rough here. Much trouble?"

"Why, no," Rod answered with sincerity. "We never had real trouble with animals. What trouble we had was with people... and not much of that."

"You figure this will be a premium colony?"

"Of course. The others were fools to leave. This place is like Terra, only safer and richer and plenty of land. In a few years- say!"

"Say what?"

"How did it happen that they left us here? We were only supposed to be here ten days."

"Didn't they tell you?"

"Well... maybe the others were told. I never heard."

"It was the supernova, of course. Delta, uh-"

"Delta Gamma one thirteen," supplied Mac.

"That's it. Space-time distortion, but I'm no mathematician."

"Fluxion," said Mac.

"Whatever that is. They've been fishing for you ever since. As I understand it, the wave front messed up their figures for this whole region. Incidentally, brother, when you go back-"

''I'm not going back."

"Well, even on a visit. Don't sign a waiver. The Board is trying to call it an 'Act of God' and duck responsibility. So let me put a bug in your ear: don't sign away your rights. A friendly hint, huh?"

"Thanks. I won't- well, thanks anyhow."

"Now how about action pix for the lead stories?"

"Well... okay."

"Spear," said Mac.

"Yeah, I believe you had some sort of spear. Mind holding it?"

Rod got it as the great Ellie joined them. "Wonderful!" she breathed. "I can feel it. It shows how thin the line is between man and beast. A hundred cultured boys and girls slipping back to illiteracy, back to the stone age, the veneer sloughing away... reverting to savagery. Glorious!"

"Look here!" Rod said angrily. "Cowpertown wasn't that way at all! We had laws, we had a constitution, we kept clean. We-" He stopped; Miss Ellens wasn't listening.

"Savage ceremonies," she said dreamily. "A village witch doctor pitting ignorance and superstition against nature. Primitive fertility rites-" She stopped and said to Mac in a businesslike voice, "We'll shoot the dances three times. Cover 'em a little for 'A' list; cover 'em up a lot for the family list-and peel them down for the 'B' list. Got it?"

"Got it," agreed Mac.

"I'll do three commentaries she added. "It will be worth the trouble." She reverted to her trance.

"Wait a minute!" Rod protested. "If she means what

I think she means, there won't be any pictures, with or without actors."

"Take it easy," Evans advised. "I said you would be technical supervisor, didn't I? Or would you rather we did it without you? Ellie is all right, brother. What you don't know- and she does- is that you have to shade the truth to get at the real truth, the underlying truth. You'll see.

"But-"

Mac stepped up to him. "Hold still."

Rod did so, as Mac raised his hand. Rod felt the cool touch of an air brush.

"Hey! What are you doing?"

"Make up." Mac returned to his gear.

"Just a little war paint," Evans explained. "The pic needs color. It will wash off."

Rod opened his mouth and eyes in utter indignation; without knowing it he raised his spear. "Get it, Mac!" Evans ordered.

"Got it," Mac answered calmly.

Rod fought to bring his anger down to where he could talk. "Take that tape out," he said softly. "Throw it on the ground. Then get out."

"Slow down," Evans advised. "You'll like that pic. We'll send you one.

"Take it out. Or I'll bust the box and anybody who gets in my way!" He aimed his spear at the multiple lens.

Mac slipped in front, protected it with his body. Evans called out, "Better look at this."

Evans had him covered with a small but businesslike gun. "We go a lot of funny places, brother, but we go prepared. You damage that recorder, or hurt one of us, and you'll be sued from here to breakfast. It's a serious matter to interfere with a news service, brother. The public has rights, you know." He raised his voice. "Ellie! We're leaving."