“When I was thirty years younger,” he said wistfully, “a gang of us set off for California on the Transcontinental Bikeway. No electro cycles allowed, either. Well, we were unlucky-ran into terrible weather in Kansas. Some of us made it, but I wasn’t one of them. I’ve still got a twelve-speed Diamond

Special-all carbon fiber and beryllium; you can lift it with one finger.

Even now, I could do a hundred klicks on it, if I were fool enough to try.”

The big car was slowing down, its computer brain sensing an exit ahead.

Presently it peeled off from the parkway, then speeded up again along a narrow road whose surface rapidly disintegrated into a barely visible grass-covered track. Washington took the steering lever just a second before the END AUTO warning light started to flash on the control panel.

“I’m taking you to the farm for several reasons,” he said. “Life will soon get hectic for both of us, as more visitors start arriving. This may be the last opportunity we have to go through your program in peace and quiet.

Also, out-worlders can learn a lot about Earth very quickly in a place like this. But to be honest-the truth is that I’m proud of the place, and like showing it off.”

They were now approaching a high stone wall, running for hundreds of meters in both directions. Duncan tried to calculate how much labor it represented, if all those oddly shaped blocks were assembled by hand-as surely they must have been. The figure was so incredible that he

couldn’t believe it. And that huge gate was made of-genuine wood, 116 for it was unpainted and he could see the grain. As it swung automatically open, Duncan read the nameplate, and turned to the Professor in surprise.

“But I thought-” he began.

George Washington looked slightly embarrassed.

“That’s my private joke,” he admitted. “The real Mount Vernon is fifty kilometers southeast of here. You mustn’t miss it.”

That last phrase, Duncan guessed, was going to become all too familiar in the months ahead-right up to the day when he reembarked for Titan.

Inside the walls, the road-now firm-packed gravel -ran in a straight line through a checkerboard of small fields. Some of the fields were plowed, and there was a tractor working in one of them-under direct human control, for a man was sitting on the open driving seat. Duncan felt that he had indeed traveled back in time.

“I suppose there’s no need to explain,” said the Professor, “that all this doesn’t belong to me. It’s owned by the Smithsonian. Some people complain that everything within a hundred kilometers of the Capitol is owned by the

Smithsonian, but that’s a slight exaggeration. I’m just the administrator; you might say it’s a kind of full-time hobby. Every year I have to submit a report, and as long as I do a good job, and don’t have a fight with the

Regents, this is my home. Needless to say, I am careful to keep on excellent terms with at least fifty-one percent of the Regents. By the way, do you recognize any of these crops?”

“I’m afraid not-though that’s grass, isn’t it?”

“Well, technically, almost everything here is. Grass includes all the cereals-barley, rice, maize, wheat, oats…. We grow them all except rice.”

“But why-I mean, except for scientific and archaeological interest?”

“Isn’t that sufficient? But I think you’ll find there’s more to it than that, when you’ve had a look around.”

At the risk of being impolite, Duncan persisted. He was not trying to be stubborn, but was genuinely interested.

“What about efficiency? Doesn’t it take a square kilometer to feed one

man, with this system?” “Out around Saturn, perhaps; I’m afraid you’ve dropped a few zeros. If it had to, this little farm could support fifty people in fair comfort, though their diet would be rather monotonous.”

“I’d no idea-my God, what’s that?”

“You’re joking-you don’t recognize it?”

“Oh, I know it’s a horse. But it’s enormous. I thought…”

“Well, I can’t blame you, though wait until you see an elephant.

Charlemagne is probably the largest horse alive today. He’s a Percheron, and weighs over a ton. His ancestors used to carry knights in full armor.

Like to meet him?”

Duncan wanted to say “Not really,” but it was too late. Washington brought the car to a halt, and the gigantic creature ambled toward them.

Until this moment, the limousine had been closed and they had been traveling in air-conditioned comfort. Now the windows slid down-and

Primeval Earth hit Duncan full in the nostrils.

“What’s the matter?” asked Washington anxiously. “Are you all right?”

Duncan gulped, and took a cautious sniff.

“I think so,” he said, without much conviction. “IVS just that-the air is rather—2’ He struggled for words as well as breath, and had almost selected “ripe’ when he gratefully switched to “rich” in the nick of time.

“I’m so sorry,” apologized Washington, genuinely contrite. “I’d quite forgotten how strange this must be -to you. Let me close the window. Go away, Charlie -sorry, some other time.”

The monster now completely dwarfed the car, and a huge head, half as big as a man, was trying to insert itself through the partially open window on

Duncan’s side. The air became even thicker, and redolent of more animal secretions than he cared to identify. Two huge, slobbering lips drew back, to disclose a perfectly terrifying set of teeth…. “Oh, very well,” said Professor Washington in a resigned voice. He leaned across his cowering guest, holding out an open palm on which two lumps of sugar had magically appeared. Gently as any maiden’s kiss, the lips nuzzled

Washington’s hand, and the gift 118 vanished as if inhaled. A mild, gentle eye, which from this distance seemed about as large as a fist, looked straight at Duncan, who started to laugh a little hysterically as the apparition withdrew.

“What’s so funny?” asked Washington.

“Look at it from my point of view. I’ve just met my first Monster from

Outer Space. Thank God it was friendly.”

THE TASTE OF HONEY

I do hope you slept well,” said George Washington, as they walked out into the bright summer morning.

“Quite well, thank you,” Duncan answered, stifling a yawn. He only wished that the statement were true.

It had been almost as bad as his first night aboard Sirius. Then, the noises had all been mechanical. This time, they were made by-things.

Leaving the window open had been a big mistake, but who could have guessed?

“We don’t need air conditioning this time of year,” George had explained.

“Which is just as well, because we haven’t got it. The Regents weren’t too happy even about electric light in a four-hundred-year-old house. If you do get too cold, here are some extra blankets. Primitive, but very effective.”

Duncan did not get too cold; the night was pleasantly mild. It was also extremely busy.

There had been distant thumpings which, he eventually decided, must have been Charlie moving his thousand kilos of muscle around the fields. There had been strange squeakings and rustlings apparently just outside his window, and one high-pitched squeal, suddenly

terminated, which could only have been caused by some unfortunate small beast meeting an untimely end.

But at last he dozed off-only to be wakened, quite suddenly, by the most horrible of all the sensations that can be experienced by a man in the utter darkness of an unfamiliar bedchamber. Something was moving around the room.

It was moving almost silently, yet with amazing speed. There was a kind of whispering rush and, occasionally, a ghostly squeaking so high-pitched that at first Duncan wondered if he was imagining the entire phenomenon. After some minutes he decided, reluctantly, that it was real enough. Whatever the thing might be, it was obviously airborne. But what could possibly move at such speed, in total darkness, without colliding with the fittings and furniture of the bedroom?