The Visitors (v1.0)

44. IOWA

For more than half an hour, they had fought their way through a water-logged jungle—trees, vines and brush. The ground was uneven and treacherous underfoot, mounds and ridges of semisolid ground separating narrow tunnels of open water and small stretches of swamp. There was, as yet, no sign of the grassy prairie, slightly elevated above the outer rim of the island, that Jimmy Quinn had told them they would find once they had beat their way through the encircling timber area.

Occasionally, when the towering trees thinned out slightly, they caught a glimpse of one or two of the visitors that apparently were resting in the grassy interior. They had first seen them coming down the river, once Goose Island had come into view.

"They are still there," Quinn had said. "I thought they might have left. There was something on the radio this morning about the visitors all leaving."

Finally, they seemed to be traveling up a slight incline. The going became easier. There were no longer any of the swampy areas and the underbrush was thinning out, although the trees grew as heavily as ever.

"I think we're almost there," said Jerry.

And, finally, they were there. They came out of the trees and before them lay the vast extent of grassland. As they came out into the open, both of them stopped abruptly, staring in wonderment.

The three visitors sat in the clearing, at some distance from one another, but it was not the visitors that riveted their attention.

Interspersed between the visitors, standing in neat, straight rows, were cars, or what appeared to be cars. They were shaped like cars. They had doors and seats and steering wheels and in the front of each of them a single, flaring headlight. But they had no running gear.

"Cars," said Kathy. "Jerry, those are cars but they haven't any wheels."

"Whatever they are," said Jerry, "they are still making them, or building them, or budding them, or whatever you may call it."

The sight of the long straight rows of cars had so fastened Kathy's attention that she had paid but slight attention to the visitors. But now, when she looked, she saw that all three were in the process of budding, although the buds were not the shapes that they had been when the visitors had been producing young. Rather the buds were elongated and lumpy.

A bud burst open on the visitor that was nearest them and from it began to emerge one of the things that looked like a car. It gleamed wetly, but as she watched, the wetness dried, revealing a glossy yellow sheen.

"It's a yellow one," said Jerry. "Did you notice that the ears are of different colors. Reds and greens and grays—all the colors you could ask."

Slowly the yellow ear emerged from the bud and finally dropped off. It came to rest, floating a few inches above the ground. Quickly, it swung about and scooted swiftly toward the nearest line of ears. It swung precisely into line and halted, stationing itself next to a green car. On the other side of the green car was a red one.

"How cute," said Kathy, delighted. "They come in every color."

"I was just telling you that," said Jerry, "but you didn't listen."

"Those can't be cars," said Kathy. "I know they look like ears, but they just can't be. ‘What would the visitors want with cars?"

"I wouldn't know," said Jerry, "but they do look like ears. Futuristic ears. Like the pipedream of a car designer who is intent on catching the public eye. They haven't any wheels, of course, but they don't need wheels; they float. These ears, if that is what they are, must operate on the same principle as the visitors themselves. They should because they are children of the visitors, but in a somewhat different shape."

"Why should they be budding children in the shape of ears? Why would they want youngsters in the shape of cars?"

"Maybe," said Jerry, "because they are really cars and are meant for us."

"For us?"

"Think, Kathy. Think about it. The visitors came here and found what they were looking for. They found trees from which they could process cellulose. It may be that these ears are payment for the trees."

"That's ridiculous," said Kathy. "Why pay us anything? They came and found the trees and took them. They could just keep on taking them. And for us, you said. We don't need this many ears. We couldn't use them in a lifetime. There must be a hundred of them, maybe more than that."

"Not just for us. Not just for you and me. For the people of the country."

"They couldn't make enough of them."

"I think they could. There are just three visitors here. They have been here for less than a week. In that time, they've budded more than a hundred ears. Take a thousand visitors, or ten thousand visitors, give them six months.

"I suppose you're right," said Kathy. "They could make a lot of ears. Come to think of it, 101 told you to come here. She knew what you'd find. She wanted you to find them."

"Probably not 101 alone," said Jerry. "The visitors wanted us to find them. 101 was just the spokesman. Each one of these things, more than likely, knows what the rest of them are doing. A sort of hive communication. When 101 first landed, she sent out signals to the others. They can talk among themselves."

"You think the visitors want us to spread the word about the cars.

"We are being used," said Jerry. "That must be it, we are being used. We are the PR people for the visitors. We may be a test team as well. I don't know. Maybe they want us to see if the ears can be operated in a satisfactory way. They can't be sure, perhaps. They know a lot about us, but maybe they aren't sure that they know enough. When a car manufacturer designs a new model, the model must be tested.

"And they picked you because you are a special person to them," Kathy said. "You were the first to be inside one of them, to communicate with them. Maybe the only person. These stories of other people taken up may be only.

"101 shook hands with you. You're forgetting that."

"Yes, but how could 101 be sure I'd be here with you? How could she know you'd phone me?"

"Maybe she didn't. Maybe.

"Maybe what?"

"Kathy, these things could be smarter than we possibly could guess. They could read us like a book."

"Suddenly," said Kathy, "I feel all shivery inside. I've never been afraid of them before, but now I am afraid. I have the feeling it could be a trap. Some sort of trap that we are falling into, not even knowing we are falling into it."

"A trap, perhaps," said Jerry, "and, yet, they are making ears for us. Cars that can float, that possibly can fly. No need of roads; they can go anywhere. They'll need no gasoline. They may last forever, never need repair. Giving them to us as payment for the trees. As payment for the cellulose that will allow them to have young again, averting racial death. If you were facing racial extinction, wouldn't you make cars—or anything they wanted—for the race that saved you?"

"You're way ahead of me," said Kathy. "I can't accept the thought that these are actually cars and that they are being made for us. You talk as if you're sure. How can you be so sure?"

"Maybe from something that was told me by 101. Something I didn't know at the time, but am realizing now. It makes sense, I tell' you. It is reasonable. They have had a look at us. They have seen what it is we want. They read us, Kathy. They know the kind of things we are. They know how to buy us. They know what we'll sell our souls for and

"You sound bitter, Jerry."

4'Not bitter. Just realizing what is happening. And that we can't stop it. Even if we turned around and walked away, we couldn't stop it. Someone else would find the cars. And maybe it's right that the cars should be found. Maybe in the end it will work out right. But they're too smart for us. The human race is a Yankee trader and we have met our match."

"We have stood here, talking," Kathy said. "We've tried to talk ourselves into believing a sort of fairy tale. All we've done is talk. I still can't think that they are cars. I can't be sure they're cars.~~

"Let's go," said Jerry, "and see if they really are."