But the alien didn't wait. It reached out and touched him with a mental probe that was firm and calm and warm, totally unlike the visual image of the thing.
— Welcome, it said, to this snug retreat. I trust I violate no convention in addressing myself to you and that I do not trespass. I know what you are. I have seen another of you. You are a human creature.
— Yes, said Jason, I am human. And you are most welcome here. You violate no convention, for we have few of them. And you do not trespass.
— You are one of the travelers, said the can of worms. You rest on your planet now, but at times you travel far.
— Not I, said Jason. Some of the others have, but I stay at home.
— Then truly I have arrived at my destination. This is the planet of the traveler I communicated very far ago. I could not be sure.
— This is the planet Earth, said Jason.
— That is the designation, said the creature, happily. I could not recall it. This other described it to me and I sought it far and wide, having only a general idea of the direction that it lay. But I was sure when I arrived that it was the proper planet.
— You mean you sought our Earth? You aren't simply stopping off to rest?
— I came to seek a soul.
— You came to seek a what?
— A soul, the creature said. This other one I communicated with said that humans once had souls and probably still did have them, although he could not be sure, professing much ignorance of the matter. He piqued my interest with what he told of souls, but could give me no adequate idea of what a soul might be. I say to myself, quite secretly, of course, so wonderful a thing is worth the seeking of. So I began my search.
— It might interest you to know, said Jason, that many humans have sought their souls as assiduously as do you.
And, he wondered, by what strange combination of circumstances one of the clan might have come to talk with this creature about the concept of the soul. Surely not a likely topic, he told himself, and one in which there might be certain dangers. But more than likely it had not been serious talk, or certainly had not been meant to be, although this can of worms seemed to have taken it seriously enough to send it on a search of no one could guess how many years to track it to its source.
— I sense a strangeness in your presence, the alien said. Can you tell me if you have a soul?
— No, I can't, said Jason.
— Surely if you had one, you'd be aware of it.
— Not necessarily, Jason told it.
— You sound, the creature said, very much like that one of your kind I sat with an entire afternoon on a hilltop of my own most lovely planet. We talked of many things, but the last half of our talk had much to do with souls. He didn't know if he had one, either, and was not sure that other humans had, now or in the past, and he could not tell me what a soul was or how a being, not having one, might go about the acquisition of a soul. He seemed to think he was acquainted with the advantages of possessing one, but I thought his talk on that point was somehow very hazy. It was, in many ways, a most unsatisfactory explanation that he gave me, but I thought I could detect a germ of truth in it. Surely, I thought, if I could win my way to his native planet there would be someone there who could supply the information that I seek.
— I am sorry, Jason said. Terribly sorry that you came so far and wasted so much time.
— There is nothing you can tell me? There is no one else?
— There might be, Jason told him, adding quickly, I can't be really sure.
He made a slip and knew it. He couldn't turn Hezekiah loose on a thing like this. Loopy as Hezekiah was, he would go hog wild.
— But there must be others.
— There are only two of us.
— You must be mistaken, said the alien. There were two others came. Neither one was you. They stood and looked at me and then they went away. They did not notice when I tried to communicate.
— They could not hear you, Jason said. They could not have answered. They use their minds for other things. They were the ones who told me. They knew I could talk with you.
— Then there only is one other who can communicate.
— That is all. The rest of us are gone, far among the stars. It was one of them who you talked with,
— This other one?
— I do not know, said Jason. She has never talked with people other than her own. She talks well with them, no matter how distant they may be.
— Then you are the only one. And you can tell me nothing.
— Look, said Jason, it is an old idea. There was never any proof. There was only faith. I have a soul, one would tell himself. He believed it because he had been told by others. Told authoritatively. Without any question. He was told so often and he told himself so often that there was no question in his mind that he had a soul. But there was never any evidence. There was never any proof.
— But honored sir, the alien pleaded, you will tell me, will you not, what a soul might be.
— I can tell you, Jason said, what it is supposed to be. It is a part of you. Unseen and undetectable. Not of your body. Not even of your mind. It lives on, eternally, after you are dead. Or, at least, it is supposed to live on eternally and the condition in which it finds itself once you are dead depends on what kind of creature you have been.
— Who judges what land of creature you have been?
— A deity, said Jason.
— And this deity?
— I do not know, said Jason. I simply do not know.
— You have been honest with me, then. I must thank you most heartily for your honesty. You say much the same as the other one I talked with.
— There may be someone else, said Jason. If I can find him, I will talk with him.
— But you said…
— I know what I said. This is not another human. Another being that may be wiser than I am.
— I will talk with him?
— No, you cannot talk with him. There is no way you can talk with him. You'll have to leave it to me.
— I trust you, said the can of worms.
— In the meantime, said Jason, will you be my guest? I have a dwelling place. There is room for you. We would be glad to have you.
— I detect, the alien said, an uneasiness in you at the sight of me.
— I would not lie to you, said Jason. There is an uneasiness in me. But I tell myself there may be as well an uneasiness in you at the sight of me.
There was no use in lying, Jason knew. It did not take his words to tell the creature the uneasiness he felt.
— Not at all in me, the creature said. I am tolerant. But it might be best if we stay apart. I shall wait here for you.
— Is there anything you need? asked Jason. Anything you lack? Something that I could supply for nourishment or comfort?
— No, thank you. I am quite all right. I am sufficient to myself.
Jason rose and turned to leave.
— You have a lovely planet, said the alien. Such a restful place. And so filled with the strangeness of its beauty.
— Yes, said Jason, we think so, too. A very lovely planet.
He clambered up the deep-cut path he had followed down into the gorge. The sun, he saw, had passed the zenith and was slanting toward the west. Great storm clouds boiled up far off and in a little time, he knew, the sun would be hidden by them. The coming of the clouds, it seemed, had deepened the silence of the woods. He could hear the little raining sounds made by the falling leaves as they came floating down to the forest floor. Somewhere, far to the left, a squirrel was cluttering, disturbed, more than likely, by some woodland fantasy that had crossed its fuzzy mind.
It had been a splendid day, he thought, a splendid day even if it rained—it still would be a splendid day in every way but one and it was a shame that it should be marred by the problem that had been thrust upon his, shoulders.