valley, looking down as they seemed to drift through the air. So the old tales were right! The Old Ones could fly through the air! Here was proof of it.

He sat on the edge of his seat, breathing hard, waiting to see the Old Ones, giant of stature, who could tear a tree out of the ground or shovel away a mountain.

But the first humans he saw were men like himself and those in the valley. Men who pointed at places while others squinted in that direction through strange instruments. He wished he could follow the talk, but the men pronounced words differently and used many he had never heard. He had to use his eyes instead of his ears.

They started to work right where he was—he recognized the outlines of the ridges about them—but it was done by no giant extending his hand and showering magic. Big machines dug away the ground. Other things with no visible means of locomotion brought building materials up a broad road where there was not even a path now. A little man, graying and wrinkled, answered questions of their invisible guide, and, as he did, he gave directions to others. Was he one of the Old Ones, not as large as himself, no older than his father?

Behind him on the screen the building Henry was in was going up. And men were making it, ordinary men, not magic.

Were the Old Ones just ordinary men, their magic not strange words and motions but machines they manipulated with their hands and feet? They were not gods, just men who had begun to learn sitting in the little chairs in the learning house.

He watched them dig the trenches from the groves-to-be to the hidden storage bins, put in the pipes lined with gravity-repellent barumal, lay the snakelike cables that he had seen occasionally where erosion had exposed them. He saw the building of Town, the Master's houses and the final planting of the groves. The record ended.

Henry remained staring at the blank screen until Theta nudged him and brought him back to the present.

The white line led on, past large offices on one side, on the other windows looking down into a vast storeroom that contained parts for repairing everything in the valley. The Old Ones knew that, some day, things would start breaking down and had prepared for it. They had not prepared for life dropping into routine, interest in progress being lost.

What need was there to spend years in school when everything 

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