to make things is known and they are wanted, they are made! The way to make them is not forgotten! It simply isn’t! But according to Harl they’d had those things and lost them. Why?
Harl murmured on, with a sort of resigned unhappiness. The state of things on Sord Three was bad. He hoped Link’s arrival might help, but it didn’t seem really likely. He named ways in which times had formerly been better. He named matters in which deterioration had plainly gone a long way. But he gave no clue to what made them worse, except that everything that was duplied was inferior, and everything was duplied. But what duplying was—
They passed over the top of a rolling hill. Below them the ground was disturbed. An illimitable number of burrows broke its surface, with piles of dirt and stones as evidence of excavations below ground. An incredible number of pink-skinned, pig-like creatures appeared to live here.
“This,” said Harl uncomfortably, “this is an ufft town. It’s shortest to get back to the Household if we ride through it. They fuss a lot, but they don’t ever actual do more than yell at humans goin’ through. Bein’ uffts, though, and knowing from those two I sent ahead that you’re a stranger, they may be extra noisy just to show off.”
Link shrugged.
“You fellas,” said Harl sternly to his following, “don’t you pay any attention to what they say! Hear me? Ignore ’em!”
The cavalcade rode down the farther hillside and entered the ufft metropolis. The splay-footed unicorns walked daintily, avoiding the innumerable holes which were exactly large enough to let full-grown uffts pop in and out with great rapidity. Had Link known prairie-dogs, he would have said that it was much like a much-enlarged prairie-dog town. The burrows were arranged absolutely without pattern, here and there and everywhere. Uffts sat in their doorways, so to speak, and regarded the animals and men with scornful disapproval. It seemed to Link that they eyed him with special attention, and not too much of cordiality.
A voice from somewhere among the burrows snapped:
“Humans! Huh! And here’s a new one. Pth-th-th-thl!” It was a Bronx cheer. Another voice said icily, “Thieves! Robbers! Humans!” A third voice cried shrilly, “Oppressors! Tyrants! Scoundrels!”
The six riders, including Link, gazed fixedly at the distance. They let their mounts pick their way. The scornful voices increased their clamor. Uffts—they did look astonishingly like pigs—popped out of burrows practically under the feet of the unicorns and cried out enragedly:
“That’s right! That’s right! Tread on us! Show the stranger! Tread on us!”
Uffts seemed to boil around the clump of unicorns. They dived out of sight as the large splay feet of the riding-animals neared them, and then popped up immediately behind them with cries of rage, “Tyrants! Oppressors! Stranger, tell the galaxy what you see!” Then other confused shoutings, “Go ahead! Crush us! Are you ashamed to let the stranger see? It’s what you want to do!”
There was a chorus of yapping ufft voices a little distance away. One of them, squatted upright, waved a fore-paw to give the cadence for choral shouts of, “Men, go home! Men, go home! Men, go home!”
Harl looked unhappily at Link.
“They never had manners, Link. But this is worse than I’ve seen before. Some of it’s to make you think bad of us, you bein’ a stranger. I’m right sorry, Link.”
“Humans seem pretty unpopular,” said Link. “They aren’t afraid of you, though.”
“I can’t afford to be hard on ’em,” admitted Harl. “I need ’em to bring in greenstuff. They know it. They work when they feel like they want some beer. They get enough beer for a party an’ then they make speeches to each other about how grand they are an’ how stupid us humans are. If I was to try to make ’em act respectful, they’d go get their beer from another Household, an’ we wouldn’t have any greenstuff brought in. An’ they know I know it. So they get plenty fresh!”
“Yah!” rasped a voice almost underfoot. “Humans! Humans have paws! Humans have hands! Shame! Shame! Shame!”
The unicorns plodded on, their flaccid upside-down horns drooping and wobbling. They climbed over mounds of dirt and stones, and down to level ground between burrows, and then over other mounds. Their gait was incredibly ungainly. The clamor of ufft voices increased. The nearby tumult was loud enough, but the ufft city stretched for a long way. It seemed that for miles to right and left there were shrilling, pink-skinned uffts galloping on their stubby legs to join in the abuse of the human party.
“Yah! Yah! Humans! Men, go home! Hide your paws, Humans!” A small group yelled in chorus, “The uffts will rise again! The uffts will rise again!” Yet another party roared, although some of the voices were squeaky, “Down with Households! Down with tyrants! Down with Humans! Up with uffts!”
The cavalcade was the center of a moving uproar. At the beginning there’d been some clear space around the feet of the unicorns. But uffts came from all directions, shrilling abuse. Swarms of rotund bodies scuttled up and over the heaps of dug-out dirt and stones, and they ran into other swarms, and they crowded each other closer to the mounted men. Some were unable to dart aside, and dived down into burrows to escape trampling. They popped out behind the unicorns to yap fresh insults. Then one popped out directly underneath a unicorn, and the unicorn’s pillowy foot sent him rolling, and squealing, but unhurt, and then there was an uproar.
“Dirty humans! Tyrants! Now you kill us.”
“Hold fast to your saddle, Link,” said Harl bitterly. “They’ll be bitin’ the unicorns’ feet in a minute. That’ll be the devil! They’ll run away and y’don’t want to get thrown! Not down among them!”
Link reined aside and held up his hand for attention. He was a stranger and part of this demonstration was for him. He knew something about demonstrators. For one thing, they are always attracted, almost irresistibly, to new audiences. But there is another and profound weakness in the psychology of a mob. When it is farthest from sane behavior, it likes to be told how intelligent it is.
“My friends!” boomed Link, in a fine and oratorical carrying voice. “My friends, back at the ship I had a conversation with two of your cultured and brilliant race, which filled me with even increased respect for your known intellectuality!” There was a slight lessening of the tumult nearby. Some uffts had heard pleasing words. They listened.
“But that conversation was not necessary,” Link announced splendidly, “to inform me of your brilliance. On my home planet the intellect of the uffts of Sord Three has already become a byword! When a knotty problem arises, someone is sure to say, ‘If we could ask the uffts of Sord Three about this, they’d settle it!’ ”
The nearer uffts were definitely quieter. They shushed those just behind them. Then they shouted to Link to go on. There was still babbling and abuse, but it came from farther away.
“So I came here,” Link announced in ringing tones, “to carry out a purpose which, if accomplished, will make it probable that the anniversary of my arrival will be celebrated over the entire surface of at least one planet! My friends, I call upon you to bring this about! I call upon you to cause such rejoicing as indubitably will modify the future of all intellectual activities! Which will bring about a permanent orientation ufftward of the more abstruse ratiocination of the intellectuals of the galaxy! I call upon you, my friends, to give to other worlds the benefit of your brains!”
He paused. He knew that Harl listened with startled incomprehension. He could see out of the corner of his eyes that the other halted men were bemused and uneasy, but the uffts within hearing cheered. Those too far away to hear clearly were trying to silence those behind them. They cheered to make the balance listen. Link bowed to the applause.
“I bring you,” he boomed with a fine gesture, “I bring you a philosophical problem, which is also a problem in sophistic logic, that the greatest minds of my home planet have not been able to solve! I have come to ask the uffts of Sord Three to use their superlative intellects upon this baffling intellectual question! There must be an answer! But it has eluded the greatest brains of my home system. So I ask the uffts of Sord Three to become the pedagogues of my world. You are our only hope! But I do not feel only hope! I feel confidence! I am sure that ufftian intellect will find the answer which will initiate a new era in intellectual processes!”
He paused again. There were more cheers. Much of the cheering came from uffts who cheered because other uffts were cheering.
“The problem,” said Link impressively, and with ample volume, “the problem is this! You know what whiskers are. You know what shaving is. You know that a barber is a man who shaves off the whiskers of other men. Now, there is a Household in which there is a barber. He shaves everybody in the Household who does not shave himself. He does not shave anybody who does shave himself. The ineluctable problem is, who shaves the barber?”
He stopped. He looked earnestly at all parts of his audience.
“Who shaves the barber?” he repeated dramatically. “Consider this, my friends! Discuss it! It has baffled the
