He had confused motive and method. Actually, the Corporation’s motives were not so different from his, even though they were stated realistically instead of idealistically. To look at it another way, the Corporation simply had a clearer—more sane—knowledge of what it was doing and why.
Imbry, finding himself considered a god by the natives, had realized his own gods were only men, after all. What better way, then, to get the same natives started on the road to true civilization than to put them in exactly the same position he had been in?
Imbry watched the protoplasmic robots on the island come hesitantly through the underbrush toward the beach.
On the island, Tylus stopped. There was a crackle in the shrubbery, and a small, diffident figure stepped out. Its expression was watchful but friendly. It looked rather much like a man, except for its small size and the shade of its skin. Its eyes were intelligent. It looked trustful.
“Hello,” Tylus said. “I’m Tylus.”
The little native came forward. Others followed it, some more timid than the first, some smiling cordially. They kept casting glances at the magic tree-pod which could carry a man over the sea.
“Hello,” the little native answered in a soft, liquid voice. “Are you an ancestor ghost or a god ghost?”
And Tylus began learning about Imbry.