What was it that came out of it?

Sunlight?

He tried it again and let it hit his hand.

Warm.

Tingling.

Carefully staying off to the side, he saw that pictures were appearing in the frames. And he heard, in the weirdest way, sort of with his head, not his ears, “Beneath the level of your consciousness, the alphabet will now go in. A,B,C..."

What was this? Was he “hearing” through his hand? No, that couldn't be! He wasn't hearing at all except for that meadowlark.

Soundless somethings were coming from the MACHINE!

He moved a little further back. The impression was less. He moved closer: he felt that his brains were frying.

“Now we will do the same sounds in Psychlo...."

Jonnie went over to the furthest extension of his chain and sat down against the wall.

He thought and thought about it.

He grasped at last that the cross-association drill of symbols, sounds and words was to get him very fast and then faster and faster so he did not have to grope for what he had been taught but would be able to use it without hesitation.

But this shaft of “sunlight” coming out of the machine?

He got braver. He went back and found a disc that must be very advanced and put it on. Bracing himself, he grimly pushed the lever all the way up.

Suddenly he KNEW that if all three sides of a triangle were equal, all its enclosed three angles were also equal.

He backed up. Never mind what a triangle was or an angle, he now KNEW.

He went back and sat down against the wall. Suddenly he reached out with his finger and drew in the dust a three pointed shape. He poked a finger at each inside bend. He said, wonderingly, “They're equal.”

Equal what?

Equal each other.

So what?

Maybe it was valuable.

Jonnie gazed at the machine. It could teach him in the ordinary way. It could teach him by speeding the lesson up. And it could teach him very smoothly and instantly with a beam of “sunlight.”

Abruptly an unholy joy began to light his face.

Alphabet? He had to learn the whole civilization of the Psychlos!

Did that monster realize why he wanted it?

Life became a long parade of discs, stacks of discs. Every hour not needed for sleep was spent at the table– with straight picture learning, with progressively speeding cross-association, with the piercing beams of "sunlight."

Half-starved, his sleep was restless. Nightmares of dead Psychlos were intertwined with raw rats chasing mechanical horses that flew. And the discs went round and round.

But Jonnie kept on, kept on cramming years of education into weeks and months. There was so MUCH to know! He had to grasp it ALL!

And with only one goal in mind: vengeance for the destruction of his race! Could he learn enough fast enough to accomplish his purpose?

Terl had felt smug right up to the moment he received the summons from the Planetary Director. He was nervous now, waiting for the appointment to occur.

The weeks had fled on, the summer fading into the chill of autumn. The man-animal was doing well. It s every waking moment seemed to be spent crowded up against the Chinko language and technical instruction machine.

It hadn't begun to talk yet, but of course it was just an animal and stupid. It hadn't even grasped the principle of progressive speed cross-association until it had been shown.

And it didn't even have enough sense to stand squarely in front of the instantaneous conceptual knowledge transmitter. Didn't it realize you had to get the full wave impulse to get it through your skull bones? Stupid. It would take months at this rate to get an education! But what could you expect of an animal that lived on raw rat!

Still, sometimes when he went in the cage, Terl had looked into those strange blue eyes and had seen danger. No matter. Terl had decided that if the animal proved dangerous, he could simply use it to get things started, and then at the first sign it was getting out of hand it could be vaporized fast enough. One button push on a hand-blaster. Zip-bang, no man-animal. Very easily handled.

Yes, things had been going very well until this summons. Such things made one nervous. There was no telling what the Planetary Director might have found out, no telling what tales some employee might have carried to him. A security chief was ordinarily not much consulted. In fact, by a devious chain of command, a security chief was not directly under the Planetary Director on all points. This made Terl feel better. In fact, there had been cases where a security chief had removed a Planetary Director-cases involving corruption. But still, the Planetary Director remained the administrative head and was the one who filed reports, reports that could transfer one, or continue one on post.

The summons had come late the night before and Terl had not slept very well. He had tumbled around in his bed, imagining conversations. At one time he had actually gotten up and combed through his office files wondering what he had on the Planetary Director, just in case. That he couldn't recall or find anything depressed him. Terl only felt operational when he had big leverage in terms of potential blackmail.

It was almost with relief that he saw the appointment time arrive and he rumbled into the office of the top Psychlo.

Numph, Planetary Director of Earth, was old. Rumor had it that he was a discard from the Central Company Directorate. Not for corruption, but just for bumbling incompetence. And he had been sent as far away as they could send him. An unimportant post, a rim star in a remote galaxy, a perfect place to send someone and forget him.

Numph was sitting at his upholstered desk, looking out through the pressure dome at the distant transshipment center. He was gnawing absently on a corner of a file folder.

Terl approached watchfully. Numph's executive uniform was neat. His fur, turning blue, was impeccably combed and in place. He didn't look particularly upset, though his amber eyes were introverted.

Numph didn't look up. “Sit down,” he said absently.

“I come in response to your summons, Your Planetship."

The old Psychlo turned to his desk. He looked wearily at Terl. “That's obvious.” He didn't much care for Terl, but he didn't dislike him either. It was the same with all these executives, definitely not first team. Not like the old days, other planets, other posts, better staffs.

“We're not showing a profit,” said Numph. He threw the folder down on his desk. Two kerbango saucepans rattled, but he did not offer any.

“I should imagine this planet is getting mined out,” said Terl.

“That's not it. There's plenty of deep-down ore to keep us going for centuries. Besides, that's the concern of the engineers, not security.”

Terl didn't care to feel rebuked. "I’ve heard that there's an economic depression in a lot of the company's markets, that prices are down.”

“That could be. But that's the concern of the economics department at the home office, not security.”

This second rebuke made Terl a bit restless. His chair groaned alarmingly under his bulk. Numph pulled the folder to him and fiddled with it. Then he looked wearily at Terl.

“It’s costs,” said Numph.

“Costs,” said Terl, getting his own back a bit, “has to do with accounting, not security.”

Numph looked at him for several seconds. He couldn't make up his mind whether Terl was being insolent. He decided to ignore it. He threw the folder back down.

“Mutiny is,” said Numph.

Terl stiffened. "Where's the mutiny?” Not the slightest rumor of it had reached him. What was going on here? Did Numph have his own intelligence system that bypassed Terl?

“It hasn't occurred yet,” said Numph. “But when I announce the pay cuts and drop all bonuses, there's liable to be one.”