"Not a whole big hell of a lot," I said.

"And what does one do under such circumstances?"

"Seek alliances, make deals. Look for someone else with common problems and interests."

"You might ally yourself with one of the big power blocs. They would do handsome things for your people in return for your support."

"There would seem a danger of becoming a puppet. Of losing a lot on something like that."

"Perhaps, perhaps not. It is not so simple a thing to foresee. On the other paw, you might throw in with the other smaller groups whose situations are, as you said, similar to you own. There are dangers in that, too, of course, but then the choices are never really this clear-cut. Do you begin to see what I am getting at, though?"

"Possibly. Are there many ... developing worlds ... such as my own?"

"Yes," he said. "There is quite a crop of them. New ones keep turning up all the time. A good thing, too-for everybody. We need that diversity-all those viewpoints and unique approaches to the problems life serves up wherever it occurs."

"Am I safe in assuming that a significant number of the younger ones stick together on major issues?"

"You are safe in assuming that."

"Is there a sufficient number to really swing much weight?"

"It is beginning to get to that point."

"I see," I said.

"Yes. Some of the older, more entrenched powers would not mind limiting their force. Curtailing their number is one way to go about it."

"If we had messed up badly with the artifacts, would it have kept us out permanently?"

"Permanently, no. You exist. You are sufficiently developed. You would have to be recognized sooner or later, even if you were blackballed initially. Still, it would be a mark against you, and it would necessarily be later for you then. It would delay things for a long while."

"Did you suspect the Whillowhim all along?"

"I suspected one of the major powers. There have been a number of incidents of this sort-which is why we keep an eye on beginners. In your case, it was easy for them, finding a ready-made situation that might be exploited. Actually, though, I guessed wrong as to who was behind it. I did not really know until that night at the hall when Speicus got his message across and you pursued the Whillowhim. Not that it matters now. If we presented our findings to them and requested an explanation-which we will not do-the Whillowhim would of course simply reply that their agent was not their agent but a private individual of unbalanced nature acting without sanction, and they would regret the inconvenience he had caused. No. Their awareness of failure will be sufficient. We've scotched them here. They know that we are on the job and that you are alert-as your officials now are. I doubt that you will ever be faced with anything this overt in the future."

"I suppose that the next time they will come bearing gifts."

"This is quite likely. But again, your people are now advised. Others will come, too. It should not be so difficult to balance them off against one another."

"So it still comes back to the smoke-filled room ... "

"Or methane. Or many other things," he said. "I don't quite follow ... "

"Politics. It's a gas, too."

"Oh, yes. One of life's little essentials."

"Ragma, I would like to ask you a personal question."

"You may. If it is too embarrassing I will simply not answer it."

"Then tell me, if you would, how you would characterize your own culture, race, people-whatever term your social scientists apply to your group, you know what I mean-in terms of the greater galactic civilization."

"Oh, we would call ourselves quite practical, efficient, flat-headed-"

"Level-headed," I said.

"Just so. And at the same time idealistic, inventive, full of cultural diversity and-"

I coughed.

"-and possessed of great potential," he said, "and the dreams and vigor of youth."

"Thank you."

We turned and began walking, then, along the beach just out of reach of the tide.

"Have you been thinking about the proposal?" he finally asked.

"Yes," I said.

"Reach a decision yet?"

"No," I said. "I am going to go away for a while to think about it."

"Have you any idea as to how long it will take you?"

"No."

"Just so. Just so. You will of course notify us immediately, whichever you decide ... "

"Of course."

We passed a faded NO SWIMMING sign, and I paused to reflect on the improvement over the GNIMMIWS ON one I would have seen earlier. My scar collection was back in place too, and cigarettes tasted normal once more. I would miss the backward versions of the soggy French fries, greasy hamburgs, day-old salads and Student Union coffee, though, I decided. Most of all, however, the memory of the stereoisobooze, mystic nectar, Spiegelschnapps would haunt me, like a breeze from the stills of Faerie ...

"I guess we had better be getting back into town," Ragma said. "Merimee's party will be starting soon."

"True," I said. "But tell me something. I was just thinking about inversions that proceed as far as the molecular level but stop short of the atomic, the subatomic ... "

"And you want to know why the inverter does not deliver neat little piles of antimatter for you?"

"Well, yes."

He shrugged.

"It can be done, but you lose a lot of machines that way, among other things. And this one is an antique. We want to hang onto it. It is the second N-axial inversion unit ever built."

"What happened to the first one?"

He chuckled.

"It did not possess a particle-exceptor program."

"How does that work?"

He shook his head.

"There are some things that man is not meant to know," he said.

"That's a hell of a thing to say at this stage of the game."

"Actually, I don't understand it myself."

"Oh."

"Let's go drink Merimee's booze and smoke his cigarettes," he said. "I want to talk to your uncle some more, too. He has offered me a job, you know."

"He has? Doing what?"

"He has some interesting ideas concerning galactic trade. He says that he wants to set up, a modest export-import business. You see, I am about ready to retire from the force, and he wants someone with my sort of experience to advise him. We might work something out."

"He is my favorite uncle," I said, "and I owe him a lot. But I am also sufficiently indebted to you that I feel obligated to point out that his reputation is somewhat less than savory."

Ragma shrugged.

"The galaxy is a big place," he said. "There are laws and occasions for all sorts and situations. These are some of the things he wants me to advise him about."

I nodded slowly, apocalyptic pieces of family folklore having but recently fallen into place in light of Merimee's revelations and some of Uncle Albert's own reminiscences during our small family reunion the previous evening.

"Doctor Merimee, by the way, will be a partner in the enterprise," Ragma added.

I continued to nod.

"Whatever happens," I said, "I am certain that you will find it a stimulating and enlightening experience."

We continued to the car, into it, cityward, away. Behind me the beach was suddenly full of doorways, and I thought of ladies, tigers, shoes, ships, sealing wax and other lurkers on the threshold. Soon, soon, soon ...

Variations on a Theme by the Third Gargoyle from the End: Stars and the Dream of Time-

It was in a small town in the shadow of the Alps that I finally caught up with him, brooding atop the local house of worship, regarding the huge clock high up on the city hall across the way.

"Good evening. Professor Dobson."

"Eh? Fred? Goodness! Mind the next stone over-the mortar is a bit crumbly ... There. Very good. I hardly expected to see you tonight. Glad you happened by, though. I was going to send you a postcard in the morning, telling you about this place. Not just the climbing but the perspective. Keep your eye on the big clock, will you?"