“Thank you,” said Rudy.

When it had finished admiring the vehicle, it asked to be taken for a ride. There wasn’t room for five and Matt didn’t want to leave anyone alone on the shoreline, so he said it could be arranged at a future time.

Mr. Smith inclined its head again. “May I ask where is Priscilla Hutchins?”

“She remained behind.”

“I am sorry I offended her.”

“I think there’s a misunderstanding. You did not offend her.”

“Why else would she not come?”

“We couldn’t all come.”

“Please convey my apologies.”

Matt decided there was no point debating the issue. “I will tell her you were concerned. She will be pleased to hear it.”

“Very good. Who is speaking for you?” It would of course have been impossible for the creature not to notice that the dialogue and the lip movements weren’t synchronized.

“An artificial intelligence,” said Matt.

“Explain, please.”

He did. As best he could.

“Remarkable. I have heard of such things, in theory. But I have never believed they were actually possible.” It stroked the lander’s tread one final time, then led the way back to the front door, standing aside so they could enter. “I am sorry about the accommodations.”

“It’s okay.” Matt ducked his head and entered.

“Your machine,” it said, “what sustains it?”

“How do you mean?”

“It floats in the air. It negates gravity.”

“Yes. In a way.”

“How do you do that?”

Matt looked at Jon. Did he want to elaborate? Jon shrugged. “Not my field.”

“I have no idea,” Matt said. “We push a button, the gravity goes away.”

“It is hard to believe.”

“You don’t have the capability?”

“No. Our experts say it can’t be done.” Inside, only Rudy and Antonio could stand up straight. Antonio’s skull brushed the ceiling. “Where are you from?” it asked.

How to explain? Mr. Smith might know about the speed of light, but what would a year mean? “Far away,” Rudy said, taking charge. “We live out close to the rim of the galaxy. Relatively speaking.”

Phyl broke in: “Try to keep it simple, Rudy.”

“Yes. That would be quite far. I’m surprised anyone would undertake a journey of that nature. Why have you done it?”

Rudy exchanged puzzled glances with Matt. “You mean why did we come here?”

“I mean why would you agree to sit in the interior of a closed space for”—Phyllis hesitated, trying to find the right term—“eons?”

“Eons?” Rudy cleared his throat. Chuckled. “The flight lasted only a few weeks.”

“Rudy,” said Phyl, “I have no equivalent for weeks. No way to render the time.”

“Damn it, Phyl. Tell him the sun rose twenty-three times, his sun—have I got that right?—how long is the day out here?—well what the hell, make it twenty-three.”

Phyl relayed the question and Mr. Smith looked at Rudy. Its eyes grew larger, and its nose caught the light and seemed to glisten.

Matt was already uncomfortable standing bent over. The chairs wouldn’t accommodate him. Unexpectedly, Mr. Smith snorted.

“I think that is laughter,” said Phyl.

“On this most significant occasion, I am a poor host. I had not expected you to be so large. In fact, I hadn’t expected you at all.” It snorted again.

Odd sense of humor, thought Matt. “You thought it was a hoax,” he said.

“I’m not sure what I thought.” He turned back to Rudy. It was no longer possible to think of Mr. Smith as an it. “Did I understand correctly? You came here from the edge of the galaxy? In twenty-three days?”

“Yes. Although our home world is not all the way out on the rim.”

“Nevertheless. I don’t know much about such things, but I am aware it’s a long flight.”

Antonio asked permission to take pictures.

“Of course,” said Mr. Smith.

The imagers on their harnesses were transmitting everything back to Hutch. But Antonio had specialized equipment, and wanted specific angles, so he began taking pictures of the alien, and of the room.

Jon lowered himself onto the floor, beside a radiator, and Matt followed. The furniture looked comfortable. Thick cushions. A sofa and two armchairs. A device that was probably a radio receiver was set on a corner table. The walls were paneled, light-stained, and smelled vaguely of cedar. A set of stairs rose to the second floor. Two electric lamps provided light. On the whole, the place felt warm and cozy.

A doorway opened onto a dining area. Mr. Smith glanced in that direction. “May I get you some refreshments?”

“No, thank you,” said Rudy. “No offense, but we’re not sure your food would be safe for us.”

“Ah. Yes, I should have realized. I suspect there would be no problem, but it is best to take no chance.” He sat down on the floor beside Jon. “May I ask why you picked me? I mean, of all the people in the world, why did you call me?”

“Because we wanted to speak with a scientist. We overheard you on a radio broadcast.”

The alien had short stubby digits. Six on each hand. (It was actually more like a claw.) He pressed the digits together in a very human gesture. “I see. You’re talking about the public relations push for my group of people come together for profit.” Phyl’s voice changed, apparently dissatisfied with her translation. She tried again: “The effort to collect customers for my business.”

“Yes.”

“But I am not a scientist. What made you think that?”

“We understood you to be a physicist.”

“Oh, no,” he said. “I help people take care of their physical well-being. I am a”—the flow of conversation stopped while Phyl considered what term to use—“a health guru.”

“This is turning into a pretty good story,” said Antonio.

A gust of wind rattled the trees. “How old,” asked Rudy, “is the culture? Your civilization?”

Mr. Smith thought about it. “I don’t think I understand the question.”

“You have an organized society.”

“Of course.”

“How long has it been here?”

“It’s always been here.”

Rudy glanced at Matt. Where do we begin with this guy? “We know there was a high-tech society on this world a long time ago. And there is still one. More or less. But you do not seem to have what they had. There’s no evidence of a space program. You do not transmit visuals. Power is supplied by landline. What happened?”

“You asked several questions. Let me tell you first that one of the (not translatable) ships is out there. Orbiting (not translatable).”

Phyl broke in. “Give me a second to talk to him.” Moments later, she was back. “The ship is very old. Thousands of years, but it’s from this world. It’s in orbit around one of the gas giants.”

“We don’t know what happened to it.” Mr. Smith looked away from them. “But it’s there. If we ever get a space program together, we’ll probably go out and take a look at it. But I can’t really see that happening.”

“Why not?”

“Because technology is dangerous.”

“How do you mean?”

“It can provide horrendous weapons to idiots.”

“Well,” said Antonio, “you have a point there.”

“There are subtle things. It can tweak a gene and make everyone happy.”

“Is that a problem?”

“Think what happens to a society if everyone is happy. All the time.” He paused. Removed his jacket, revealing a knit white shirt, open at the neck. “The higher the level of technology, the more vulnerable a civilization becomes. Shut down a system here, or there, and the whole thing collapses. We have seen it.