And Now the News by Theodore Sturgeon Page A

gaze across the room and back. “You people don’t build walls you can’t see through, doors you can close.”
    â€œWhy, no, we don’t.” As always, the giant left the insult and took only the words.
    I bet you don’t
, Bril said silently,
not even for
—and a horrible suspicion began to grow within him. “We of Kit Carson feel that all human history and development are away from the animal, toward something higher. We are, of course, chained to the animal state, but we do what we can to eliminate every animal act as a public spectacle.” Sternly, he waved a shining gauntlet at the great open house. “You have apparently not reached such a idealization. I have seen how you eat; doubtless you perform your other functions so openly.”
    â€œOh, yes,” said Tanyne. “But with this—” he pointed—“it’s hardly the same thing.”
    â€œWith what?”
    Tanyne again indicated one of the boulderlike objects. He tore off a clump of moss—it was real moss—and tossed it to the soft surface of one of the boulders. He reached down and touched one of the gray streaks. The moss sank into the surface the way a pebble will in quicksand, but much faster.
    â€œIt will not accept living animal matter above a certain level of complexity,” he explained, “but it instantly absorbs every molecule of anything else, not only on the surface but for a distance above.”
    â€œAnd that’s a—a—where you—”
    Tan nodded and said that that was exactly what it was.
    â€œBut—anyone can
see
you!”
    Tan shrugged and smiled. “How? That’s what I meant when I said it’s hardly the same thing. Of eating, we make a social occasion. But this—” he threw another clump of moss and watched it vanish—“just isn’t observed.” His sudden laugh rang out and again he said, “I
wish
you’d learn the language. Such a thing is so easy to express.”
    But Bril was concentrating on something else. “I appreciate your hospitality,” he said, using the phrase stiltedly, “but I’d like to be moving on.” He eyed the boulder distastefully. “And very soon.”
    â€œAs you wish. You have a message for Xanadu. Deliver it, then.”
    â€œTo your Government.”
    â€œTo our Government. I told you before, Bril—when you’re ready, proceed.”
    â€œI cannot believe that you alone represent this planet!”
    â€œNeither can I,” said Tanyne pleasantly. “I don’t. Through me, you can speak to forty-one others, all Senators.”
    â€œIs there no other way?”
    Tanyne smiled. “Forty-one other ways. Speak to any of the others. It amounts to the same thing.”
    â€œAnd no higher government body?”
    Tanyne reached out a long arm and plucked a goblet from a niche in the moss bank. It was chased crystal with a luminous metallic rim.
    â€œFinding the highest point of the government of Xanadu is like finding the highest point on this,” he said. He ran a finger around the inside of the rim and the goblet chimed beautifully.
    â€œPretty unstable,” growled Bril.
    Tanyne made it sing again and replaced it; whether that was an answer or not, Bril could not know.
    He snorted, “No wonder the boy didn’t know what Government was.”
    â€œWe don’t use the term,” said Tanyne. “We don’t need it. There are few things here that a citizen can’t handle for himself; I wish I could show you how few. If you’ll live with us a while, I will show you.”
    He caught Bril’s eye squarely as it returned from another disgusted and apprehensive trip to the boulder, and laughed outright. But the kindness in his voice as he went on quenched Bril’s upsurge of indignant fury, and a little question curled up:
Is he managing me?
But there wasn’t time to look at it.
    â€œCan your