he has time to do anything.”
“He’ll reproduce all the faster,” she answered. “And leave those trees alone. At your age, really!”
She was right about the prototype brute. Never in their experiments had they produced a creature that was so active. They had raised animals that bred much faster, but none that bred at a reasonable pace and also kept flashing about the planet in a restless motion.
They had to litter the ground with suitable seeds before the humanoids stopped long enough in one spot to try planting for themselves. And even then, the idea did not take root for many many generations. But here and there, at last, they had the beginnings of a culture, and the beginnings of speech. The telepathic content of the humanoids’ speech was intelligible to them, though not apparently intelligible to the humanoids themselves.
They concentrated on the temperate zones, where they could most easily encourage the humanoids to stand still from generation to generation. The humanoid dwellings flickered into existence and decayed too rapidly for any reliable observations until several tribes of them took to using stone for building materials.
“Well,” he said thankfully, “at last I can tell where they are without dashing from branch to branch like one of your monkeys.”
He still did not believe her monkey experiments had had much to do with it. Secretly he suspected she had encouraged that development to annoy him—by putting multitudes in his hair, so to speak. It was just and proper, therefore, that the humanoids trampled all over her grasslands by preference.
It was in this mood that he created cool groves of tall trees and concentrated in them thoughts of love and pleasure.
The humanoids took the hint remarkably quickly. He had many happy generations encouraging the humanoids to sport in his groves. She was furious. But trees were his province and there was nothing she could do about it.
“You’re debasing them,” she complained.
“They’re enjoying themselves, aren’t they?”
“Voyeur!”
Well, he frankly enjoyed the swift rush of little pink bodies in and out of the groves. He was sorry when she succeeded in countering with a sterner line of thought, bred out of her deserts and thin-grassed mountains, where she was full of thought of privacy, and continence, and wonder and the stars. When he could, he made life uncomfortable for these higher-minded generations. He was never slow to create sybaritic and sensual surroundings to knock them off their mental perches. In one group of islands—which she could not reach because his pines starved out her seeds before they had a chance to establish—he had a series of permanent statues erected to himself by the humanoids, and he had frank and open worship. He considered it very proper. He maintained a cool and bracing temperature in the trees around the sandy shores.
He had passed through four or five hundred generations of giant redwoods before the little humanoids established themselves in the cities across the planet. Many of their activities were too fast for him to perceive, but he could contemplate their cities.
These were temporary structures, on the scale of the thrusting growth he felt in one of his redwoods. Still, to these dizzy little humanoids no doubt the cities lasted long enough. It was rare now for him to pick up a humanoid thought. Unlike their first models, the present generations thought at the high speed which characterized their entire life. A blurred flicker of an impression to him was apparently the whole life’s output of one of her contemplatives sitting in a cave, until he fell to pieces and was whizzed away.
The pink varieties no longer worshipped him, save fitfully, but he still had a pleasant range of warmer-colored humanoids whom he could tempt into an orgy. This kept him deep in the forests on the central belt of the planet.
*
She signaled to him from across the main ocean. He transferred his consciousness to join her on the edge of one of her wide prairies.
“I think we’ve done very well,” she said.
“Surely you didn’t call me all the way here just to say that.”
“Yes. It really is Earthlike, isn’t it? I felt it was about time you congratulated me.”
He thought back.
“I don’t remember, now,” he said. “But it seems to be roughly similar.”
“Roughly! After all this time, you dare to suggest I have only achieved a rough similarity? I was a trained sociologist, kindly remember. It is exactly like Earth.”
He looked patiently up at the satellite and the stars. She was detailing the achievement interminably.
“It’s very difficult to tell,” he said, interrupting her. “Our time scale is quite different from what it was on Earth. These humanoids of ours breed and die like ephemerids.”
She rustled impatiently.
“If you took trouble to examine the species from their time scale, you would find it is precisely the same as Earth time to them.”
“Is it? Very well, I believe you. We have created an exact duplicate of the other Earth. Congratulations.”
“You’re just agreeing without proof. I have evidence to show the sociology is a detailed replica. These humanoids are repeating human history exactly as we knew it! One of our ivy shoots even reported a tombstone marked ‘Killed in the Battle of Bunker Hill, June 17, 1775.’”
“Now you’re exaggerating!” he said. “How could they possibly duplicate a time system that applied on the other Earth?”
“What other Earth?” she said.
Amateur in Chancery
By George O. Smith
The creature from Venus didn’t know right from left—and life and death hung in the balance!
Paul Wallach came into my office. He looked distraught. By some trick of selection, Paul Wallach, the director of Project Tunnel, was one of the two men in the place who did not have a string of doctor’s and scholar’s degrees to tack behind their names. The other was I.
“Trouble, Paul?” I asked.
He nodded, saying, “The tunnel car is working.”
“It should. It’s been tested enough.”
“Holly Carter drew the short straw.”
“Er—” I started and then stopped short as the implication became clear. “She’s—she’s—not—?”
“Holly made it to Venus all right,” he said. “Trouble is we can’t get her back.”
“Can’t get her back?”
He nodded again. “You know, we’ve never really known very much about the atmosphere of Venus.”
“Yes.”
“Well, from what little
