You’re going to destroy World Brain.”

Roland tried to clarify scattered thoughts. Here in a hidden cell, he seemed so far from any reality. Alone with two people who seemed so strange—so apart from hopeless, defeated humanity. He was suddenly aware of feeling cold. Cold, yet the room was warm. Something was lacking between these two members of the Underground and himself, something vitally important. There was an isolated sensation. He noticed the utter silence. A dead, despairing silence. Abruptly he wanted to be a part of movement and noise. He wanted to get out of this small buried cube somewhere on Earth. And, if it wasn’t for Frances, he would have gotten out. Right then. But he didn’t.

She held him there. A human, conditioned scientifically, could only react as he was reacting now. He felt no irritation. That was the way the human organism functioned. He wanted to do it for Frances. He loved her, of course—that was it. He had known that when he first heard her voice, before he had opened his eyes.

He heard himself saying, “When, where and how do I start?”

“Bravo!” said Berti sardonically. “A man of virtue!”

Only an objective realization of the need for unity prevailed Roland from attacking the man. He was jealous, too, and he was ashamed of that. Somehow, these people had taken him from the Birth Center when he was born, and had kept him hidden and had taught him to be a true, pre-World Brain human. He should be grateful, very grateful. And he determined to be.

Berti was crossing the room toward a panel. “Well, Prometheus, we start right now, right here. And here’s how—”

He tensed, eyes narrowing.

The form was only a faint mist at first. Roland hardly knew it was materializing until he saw its wavering, translucent shadow in the middle of the room. A flash of panic and fear jerked him to his feet and sent him backing toward the further wall. He saw Frances and Berti standing stiffly, perspiration oozing visibly from their bronzed skin.

Roland had never seen anything so grotesque and alien before. At least he couldn’t remember having seen—but then, he couldn’t remember.

“Roland!” he heard Berti say tensely. “You’re now being treated to the personal appearance of a Martian menace. Take a good look, because it just might be that you won’t see another.” Berti moved with shocking 

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