Messenger — Text and Context

This was it. The third planet, the one with a single subsatellite, was the one he had been sent to find. To find, and perhaps to help. But how?

The finding of the planet had solved one problem. So far it had given him not a hint toward the solution of the second--the reason why he had been sent here.

There was life on this ball of mud and water, a great deal of life, both vegetable and animal. And some of the latter could, without too great a distortion of the truth, be called intelligent. It had raised cities, tunneled into mountains, changed the appearance of sections of the planet itself. It was to this intelligent life that he had been sent.

A dim memory of the need for caution kept him from letting himself be seen. "I'd only frighten them," he thought. "I'll have to investigate thoroughly before I reveal myself. And maybe the investigation will remind me of what I have to do."

The first thing was to come down to earth. Choosing the dark side of the planet, shaded from the central sun by its own bulk, he shrank his body and let himself drop in the gravitational field. From time to time he slowed his fall in order to keep from flaming through the atmosphere and attracting their attention. And at a thousand feet above the surface he came to a complete stop, hovering over a city, and making up his mind where to land.

Something droned toward him through the air, colored lights winking on and off. He darted downward and to one side. Where the city lights faded out, he let himself fall all the way to the ground.

He was off a dimly lit highway. Small metal vehicles ran along it, their lights momentarily tearing apart the darkness ahead of them. A glance through the metal at the creatures inside the vehicles gave him a queer thrill. Yes, these were the ones he had been sent to.

Quickly reshaping his body and clothing himself so that he seemed to be one of them, he began to walk along the highway. Cars sped past him, picking him out in their headlights. None of them stopped, but he had time to probe their minds and listen to their language.

What he found was not pleasant. Among all the feelings which controlled their thoughts, fear was easiest to detect. And along with the fear were hatred and envy and greed, anxiety and guilt. Oddly enough, there were also hope and affection for each other, but it was the worse feelings that predominated. There was no doubt that they needed help.

That didn't make any clearer, however, what he had to do. He had an idea that it was not his mission to work out a detailed solution. He had to do some simple thing, something--

The two men were lying in wait, either for him or for some other pedestrian they judged sufficiently unwary. He sensed them long before the first one stepped out toward him, a cigarette in one hand and what was supposed to be an ingratiating look on the brutal face.

The other man suddenly plunged at him from the side, an arm wrapping itself around his neck. The assailant tried to bend him back, the forearm cutting across his windpipe. The arm of the first man swung, a rough fist smashing at his face.

Then the two assailants screamed in pain and terror. Where they had touched him, fist and arm broke into flame. Both men turned from him in horror, and ran off wildly, as if to get away from themselves.

He hadn't meant to hurt them, but they had contrived their own punishment. Perhaps--no, that wasn't it. He wasn't here to punish either.

He walked along, and soon he found himself entering the city. A man in a blue uniform watched him suspiciously and ordered him gruffly to get moving.

"I am moving," he said pleasantly.

"Don't you get wise with me," said the bluecoat, and raised a threatening club.

He paid no attention to the club and kept on, toward the heart of the city.

What he saw only confirmed the impression he had obtained from the minds of the men and women in the cars. Too many thoughts were mean and ignoble, arising only from selfish and vicious desires. Many of those who saw him seemed to sense his strangeness, and moved toward him with a single impulse--to take advantage of his ignorance. Men spoke to him out of the sides of their mouths, offering him bargains. Women offered themselves.

"_Look, Mac, this stuff is hot, see? Just came off a truck_--"

"_Wanta look at some nice pictures, Mister?_"