“Come!  Lead the way, Geos; let us take a look at your world!”

XXXVII

LOOKING DOWN

Presently the three men were standing at the door of a vast room, one entire side of which was wide open to the outer air.  It was filled by a number of queer, shining objects.  At first glance Chick took them to be immense beetles.

The Jan Lucar spoke to the Geos: 

“We had best take the June Bug of the Rhamda Avec.”

Watson thought it best to say nothing, show nothing.  The Jan ran up to one of the glistening affairs, and without the slightest noise he spun it gracefully around, running it out into the centre of the mosaic floor.

“I presume,” apologised the Geos, “that you have much finer aircraft in your world.”

Aircraft!  Watson was all eagerness.  He saw that the June Bug was about ten feet high, with a bunchy, buglike body.  On closer scrutiny he could make out the outlines of wings folded tight against the sides.  As for the material, it must have been metal, to use a term which does not explain very much, after all.  In every respect the machine was a duplicate of some great insect, except that instead of legs it had well-braced rollers.

“How does it operate?” Watson wanted to know.  “That is, what power do you use, and how do you apply it?”

The Jan Lucar threw back a plate.  Watson looked inside, and saw a mass of fine spider-web threads, softer than the tips of rabbit’s hair, all radiating from a central grey object about the size of a pea.  Chick reached out to touch this thing with his finger.

But the Geos, like a flash, caught him by the shoulder and pulled him back.

“Pardon me, my lord!” he exclaimed.  “But you must not touch it!  You—­even you, would be annihilated!” Then to the Lucar:  “Very well.”

Whereupon the other did something in front of the craft; touched a lever, perhaps.  Instantly the grey, spidery hairs turned to a dull red.

“Now you may touch it,” said the Geos.

But Chick’s desire had vanished.  Instead he ventured a question: 

“All very interesting, but where is your machinery?”

The Rhamda was slightly amused.  He smiled a little.  “You must give us a little credit, my lord.  We must seem backward to you, but we have passed beyond reliance upon simple machines.  That little grey pellet is, of course, our motive force; it is a highly refined mineral, which we mine in vast quantity.  It has been in use for centuries.  As for the hair-like web, that is our idea of a transmission.”

Watson hoped that he did not look as uncomprehending as he felt.  The other continued: 

“In aerial locomotion we are content to imitate life as much as possible.  We long ago discarded engines and propellers, and instead tried to duplicate the muscular and nervous systems of the birds and insects.  We fly exactly as they do; our motive force is intrinsic.  In some respects, we have improved upon life.”