They arrived at dawn, their little craft landing softly in the cornfield. In coming to a landing, it knocked down and scattered a corn shock and smashed three pumpkins. The little band of four humans and one robot waited at the edge of the field. There were other robots about, Jason knew, but well hidden, peering out in awe at this machine that came down from the sky. When the hatch opened, two men stepped out. They were tall and heavy, dressed in plain gray pants and jackets, small caps on their heads.
Jason strode down to the field toward them. They came to meet him.
"You are Jason Whitney," said one of them. "The one who talked with us last night."
"Yes, I am," said Jason. "Welcome back to Earth."
"I am Reynolds," said one of them, holding out his hand. "My companion is Harrison."
Jason shook hands with the two of them.
"We are not armed," said Harrison, "but we have protection," It was almost as if the speech was ritual.
"You have no need of protection here," said Jason. "We are highly civilized. There is not an ounce of violence in all of us combined."
"One never knows," said Harrison. "After all, we have been apart for some thousands of years, time enough for change. Not an alien encounter, of course, but with some aspects that are not too far from it. You tried last night, Mr. Whitney, to throw us in confusion."
"I do not understand," said Jason.
"Your words are calculated to make us believe you had no notice of our coming. I don't know how you could have had, but it was apparent that you knew. You studiously showed no surprise and if you had not known, you would have been surprised. You attempted to make it seem our arrival was of little consequence."
"Should it be of consequence?" asked Jason.
"We can offer much to you."
"We are satisfied," said Jason, "with the little that we have."
"There was the beam," said Harrison. "You would not have had a beam out if you had not believed there was someone out there. There is very little traffic in this part of the galaxy."
"You gentlemen," said Jason, "seem to be sure enough of your deductions to allow for rudeness."
"We do not mean to be rude," Reynolds said. "We do think there should be understanding. You attempted to mislead us and it might clear the way for further talk if we let you know that we realize the situation."
"You are our guests," said Jason. "I don't intend to bicker with you. If you believe what you say, there is no possible way in which I could persuade you otherwise, and, indeed, no point in doing so."
"We were somewhat surprised," said Harrison, casually conversational, "to learn, a little time ago, there were humans still on Earth. We had realized, of course, that there must be robots, for whatever it was that swept us away did not sweep the robots.
But we had thought, of course, that there'd be no humans. We thought they got us all."
"They?" asked Jason. "Then you know who did it."
"Not at all," said Harrison. "In saying they, I may be guilty of personalizing some force that was not personal at all. We had hoped you might have some idea. We know you've traveled far. Much farther than we have."
So they knew, thought Jason, bleakly, about star-traveling. It had been too much to hope they wouldn't.
"Not I," he said. "I have never left the Earth. I have stayed at home."
"But others have."
"Yes," said Jason. "Many others."
"And they talk? Telepathy?"
"Yes, of course," said Jason. There was no use denying it. They had learned the entire story. Maybe not heard it, not been told it. Perhaps only bits and pieces. And they'd put it all together. A handful of tiny facts and they would have the story. A new ability, he wondered—a better psychology, a sense of hunch, prognostication?
"We should have gotten together sooner," said Harrison.
"I don't understand," said Jason. "Why, man," said Harrison, "you have got it made. So have we. The two of us together…"
"Please," said Jason. "The others are waiting for us. We can't stand here, talking. After you have met them, there will be breakfast. Thatcher is cooking up some pancakes."