"Miss, that may all be true," said Whiteside, "but they got me scared. I still think that a few well-placed.
"Henry," the President said, sharply, "not now. Later, if you insist on talking about it, but not now."
"Let's get back to this business of taking up," said Allen. "To talk with someone, it appears, they have to take a person up. Mr. Conklin, can you think of any way they might be persuaded to take up—say, myself, or the President?"
"They wouldn't take you up," said Jerry. "They simply would ignore you. No matter what you did, they'd pay no attention to you.
"I would think that you are right," said Allen. "They're good at doing that. They've ignored us ever since they came. I have found myself wondering just how they perceive us. I've rather thought at times that they might see us as charming pets or as pitiful forms of life they must be careful not to step on. But, actually, I sense it's neither one of these. Miss Foster seems to think they have affection for us. After all, we allowed them to land on the planet where there was cellulose to save them from racial extinction. The cellulose allowed them to have young and if there had been no young, I would suppose the race finally would have died. If we give them human emotions, which I doubt they have, they then would feel gratitude. With all due respect to Miss Foster's viewpoint, I can't feel they're all that thankful. The point is that there is no way we can stop them from chopping down our trees. I am inclined to believe they have, rather than gratitude, an irrepressible business ethic, although they would not think of it as that. I know I phrase this clumsily. I think they are obsessed with making full and honest payment for anything they take. I think that's what they are doing."
"To sum up," said the President, "there does seem to be an outside chance that given time, we might be able to talk with our visitors. But it will take time, apparently, an awful lot of time, and more patience than we have. The one thing we haven't got is time. Would the others of you say that is a fair assessment?"
"I subscribe to it," said Whiteside. "That's the whole thing, all wrapped up, and we haven't got the time. Our time is all run out."
"We can weather it," said the President, as if he might be talking to himself. "We've got to weather it. If nothing else happens, if it's no more than the ears, we can muddle through. I have had some encouraging phone calls from leaders in the business world and the Congress seems more inclined to go along with us than I had thought they would." He said to Porter, "I take it, from what I hear, that you talked with Davenport."
"Yes, I did," said Porter. "A friendly interchange."
"Well, then," said the President, "I think this does it. Unless," he said, looking at Kathy and Jerry, "you have something else to add."
They shook their heads.
"Nothing, Mr. President," said Jerry.
"We thank you for coming to see us," the President told them. "You have done us a very useful service. Now we can see more clearly the problems that we face. You may rest assured that nothing you have told us will go beyond this room."
"I'm grateful to you for that," said Jerry.
"The plane is waiting for you," said the President. "We'll drive you to the field any time you wish. Should you wish to remain in Washington, however, for a day or two.
"Mr. President," said Kathy, "we must be getting back. I have my job and Jerry has his thesis."
52. MINNEAPOLIS
"This place feels like a wake," said Gold. "We're hip deep in news of great significance. The whole damn world going down the drain. The dollar almost worthless. Foreign governments howling doom. All the diplomats tight-lipped. The business community white-faced. The kind of stuff we thrive on. Yet where is all the joy of a newsroom bristling with news, where all the jubilation?"
"Oh, shut up," said Garrison.
"The White House expresses confidence," said Gold. "Says we will see it through. There's a prime example of whistling down a dark and lonely street."
Garrison said to Annie, "You have any idea when Kathy and Jerry will be getting in?"
"In another couple of hours," she told him. "They're probably taking off right now. But Kathy will have nothing for us. She told me when she called there'd not be any story."
"I expected that," said Garrison. "I had hoped, of course.
"You're a blood sucker," Gold told him. "You suck your people dry. Not a drop left in them."
"It's not working out the way it should," said Annie.
"What's not working out?" asked Garrison.
"This business with the visitors. It's not the way it is in pictures."
"By pictures, I suppose you mean the movies.
"Yes. In them it works out right, but just in the nick of time. When everyone's given up every hope and there seems no chance at all. Do you suppose that now, just in the nick of time.
"Don't count on it," said Gold.
"Look," said Garrison, "this is the real thing. This is really happening. This is no fantasy dreamed up by some jerk producer who knows, in his secret, stupid heart that happiness is holy."
"But if they'd just talk to us," said Annie.
"If they'd just go away," said Gold.
The phone rang.
Annie picked it up, listened for a moment and then took it down and looked at Garrison.
"It's Lone Pine," she said. "Mr. Norton. On line three. He sounds funny. There's something wrong up there."
Garrison grabbed his phone off the cradle. "Frank," he said, "is there something wrong? What is going on?"
Norton's words came tumbling along the line. "Johnny, I just got back from my trip. I looked at the papers on my desk. Can it be true? About the ears.
"I'm afraid it is," said Garrison. "Take it easy, Frank. What has you so upset?"
"Johnny, it's not only cars."
"Not only ears? What do you mean, not only ears?"
"They're making houses, too. Trying to make houses. Practicing at making houses."
"You mean houses people could live in?"
"That's right. Like the kind of house you live in. The kind of houses a lot of people live in."
"Where are they doing this?"
"Up in the wilderness. Hid out in the wilderness. Practicing where they thought no one would see them."
"Take a deep breath, Frank, and tell me. Start at the beginning and tell me what you saw."
"Well," said Norton, "I was canoeing up the river.
Garrison listened intently. Gold sat motionless, watching him closely. Annie picked a file out of a desk drawer and began buffing her nails.
"Just a minute, Frank," Garrison said, finally. "This is too good a story, too personal a story for someone else to write. What I'd like you to do is write it for us. From the personal angle, just as you told it to me. First person all the way. I saw this, I did that, I thought something else. Can you do it? Would you do it? How about your own paper?"
"My own paper won't be out for another three days," said Norton. "Hell, I may even skip a week. Gone like I've been, I have little advertising. I have a couple cans of beans stashed on the shelf. Even if I skip a week I still can eat.
"Sit down, then," said Garrison, "and start writing it. Three or four columns. More if you think you need it. When you're done, pick up the phone and ask for the city desk. Dictate the story. We have people who can take it down almost as fast as you can read it. And, Frank.
"Yes?"
"Frank, don't spare the horses. Spread your wings."
"But, Johnny, I didn't tell you everything. I was just getting to it. In that last house, the one that was lighted up and had furniture.
"Yes, what about it?"
"The house had just floated in. The visitors had just finished making it. But when I looked at it, I saw shadows in the kitchen. Moving shadows. The kind of shadows someone would make as they moved about the kitchen, taking up the dinner. I swear—I tell you, Johnny, there were people in that kitchen! For the love of Christ, are they making people, too?"