Inside the walls, the road — now firm-packed gravel — ran in a straight line through a checkerboard
of small fields. Some of the fields were plowed, and there was a tractor working in one of them — under direct human control, for a man was sitting on the open driving seat. Duncan felt that he had indeed
traveled back in time.
"I suppose there's no need to explain," said the Professor, "that all this doesn't belong to me. It's owned by the Smithsonian. Some people complain that everything within a hundred kilometers of the
Capitol is owned by the Smithsonian, but that's a slight exaggeration. I'm just the administrator; you might say it's a kind of full-time hobby. Every year I have to submit a report, and as long as I do my job, and don’t have a fight with the Regents, this is my home. Needless to say, I am careful to keep on
excellent terms with at least fifty-one percent of the Regents. By the way, do you recognize any of these crops?"
"I'm afraid not — though that's grass, isn't it?"
"Well, technically, almost everything here is. Grass includes all the cereals — barley, rice, maize, wheat, oats... We grow them all except rice."
"But why — I mean, except for scientific and archaeological interest?"
"Isn't that sufficient? But I think you'll find there's more to it than that, when you've had a look around."
At the risk of being impolite, Duncan persisted. He was not trying to be stubborn, but was genuinely
interested.
"What about efficiency? Doesn't it take a square kilometer to feed one man, with this system?"
"Out around Saturn, perhaps; I'm afraid you've dropped a few zeros. If it had to, this little farm could support fifty people in fair comfort, though their diet would be rather monotonous."
"I'd no idea — my God, what's that? "
"You're joking — you don't recognize it?"
"Oh, I know it's a horse. But it's enormous. I thought..."
"Well, I can't blame you, though wait until you see an elephant. Charlemagne is probably the largest horse alive today. He's a Percheron, and weights a little over a ton. His ancestors used to carry knights in full armor. Like to meet him?"
Duncan wanted to say, "Not really," but it was too late. Washington brought the car to a halt, and the gigantic creature ambled toward them.
Until this moment, the limousine had been closed and they had been traveling in air-conditioned
comfort. Now the windows slid down — and Primeval Earth hit Duncan full in the nostrils.
"What's the matter?" asked Washington anxiously. "Are you all right?"
Duncan gulped, and took a curious sniff.
"I think so," he said, without much conviction. "It's just that — the air is rather —" He struggled for words as well as breath, and had almost selected ‘ripe’ when he gratefully switched to ‘rich’ in the nick of time.
"I'm so sorry," apologized Washington, genuinely contrite. "I'd quite forgotten how strange this must be to you. Let me close the window. Go away, Charlie — sorry, some other time."
The monster now completely dwarfed the car, and a huge head, half as big as a man, was trying to
insert itself through the partially open window on Duncan's side. The air became even thicker, and
redolent of more animal secretions than he cared to identify. Two huge, slobbering lips drew back, to
disclose a perfectly terrifying set of teeth...
"Oh, very well," said Professor Washington in a resigned voice. He leaned across his cowering guest, holding out an open palm on which two lumps of sugar had magically appeared. Gently as any maiden's
kiss, the lips nuzzled Washington's hand, and the gift vanished as if inhaled. A mild, gentle eye, which from this distance seemed about as large as a fist, looked straight at Duncan, who started to laugh a little hysterically as the apparition withdrew.
"What's so funny," asked Washington.
"Look at it from my point of view. I've just met my first Monster from Outer Space. Thank God it
was friendly."
20
The Taste of Honey
"I do hope you slept well," said George Washington, as they walked out into the bright summer morning.
"Quite well, thank you," Duncan answered, stifling a yawn. He only wished that statement were true.
It had been almost as bad as his first night aboard Sirius. Then, the noises had all been mechanical.
This time, they were made by — things.
Leaving the window open had been a big mistake, but who could have guessed? "We don't need air
conditioning this time of year," George had explained. "Which is just as well, because we haven't got it.
The Regents weren't too happen even about electric light in at four-hundred-year-old house. If you do get too cold, there are some extra blankets. Primitive, but effective."
Duncan did not get too cold; the night was pleasantly mild. It was also extremely busy.
There had been distant thumpings which, he eventually decided, must have been Charlie moving his
thousand kilos of muscle around the fields. There had been strange squeakings and rustlings apparently just outside his window, and one high-pitched squeal, suddenly terminated, which could only have been