excuse could there be, Brenner wondered, for Rodriguez? Clearly Rodriguez was not stupid. It is always unsettling when one who is obviously not stupid disagrees with one. One may then, of course, revise one’s opinion. Perhaps he is stupid, after all. Or, too, one might more charitably suppose a lack of information, insanity, or perhaps iniquity. Iniquities and insanities, of course, go in and out of fashion. If one wishes to reassure oneself that one is right, of course, it is easy to do so. One need only ask those who agree with one. No, Rodriguez did not respect the Pons. It was only too obvious that he did not take them seriously, that he held them in contempt. On the other hand, he did regard them as of anthropological interest, and perhaps even, for some reason, particularly so. As I have made clear earlier, Rodriguez was not a champion of value-free science. He had too many values. What was important to him was to understand the data, and to theorize about it intelligently, and such. Nothing in this approach requires that he arrive at politically acceptable results, or even that he approve of what he learns.
The Pons, there were several of them, perhaps thirty or forty, it was hard to tell, as they milled about, had clustered a few yards outside the outer gate.
Brenner glanced back toward Company Station. It was a little lighter now. The planks of the road leading to the gate were slick with rain. He again saw only the buildings, the mud, the sky, the rain.
Rodriguez joined him, thrusting the wet papers back inside his jacket. He then waved to the Pons outside the gate, affably. It seemed they did not dare to return his greeting.
“What are they wearing?” asked Brenner. It surely did not seem typical raingear, though, to be sure, it might have been closely woven.
“Robes, smocks,” said Rodriguez.
“On their heads, over their heads,” said Brenner.
“It appears to be some sort of hood,” said Rodriguez.
“It is some sort of ritual veiling?” asked Brenner. He had not, in his research on Pons, not that a great deal was known of them, come on anything of this sort. It was a detail which certainly would not be likely to be omitted, even from a superficial account.
“I do not think so,” said Rodriguez.
“Perhaps they are timid, frightened, pathologically shy,” suggested Brenner.
“Perhaps,” said Rodriguez.
“Are there females amongstst them?” asked Brenner. The clothing of Pons, he had gathered from his reading, and from certain drawings, as there had appeared, oddly enough, to be no film records, or even photographs, of Pons, as that of many parts of the home world, was designed to minimize, or conceal, sexual differences, this having to do with the political desiderata of personistic neuterism.
“Probably not in this bunch,” said Rodriguez. To be sure, it was difficult to tell.
The operator had now switched a red light on at the top of the tower, making it clear to all that the current was still on, and that the field was active. The switching from red to green, in color codes the origin of which was lost in antiquity, would indicate deactivation. Green would remain lit while the field remained deactivated. Its flashing would indicate the proximity of activation. The switch from a flashing green to a red, which would be sustained for a short time, indicated reactivation. Then the red light, too, would be extinguished, its illumination being unnecessary given the presumption of activation, the presumed normal condition of the field, and the posting of the area. If one were in doubt as to the activation of the field, of course, there were simple ways in which its condition might be ascertained. For example, one might toss a stick between the fences. If nothing happened, the field was not active. If, on the other hand, the stick seemed to be caught, as if it were lodged in a wall of water, and began to twist, and then, in an instant, burst apart, crackling, and flaming, this would indicate that the field was active.
“They must be terribly shy,” said Brenner.
“I think it is rather that they are secretive,” said Rodriguez.
“I wonder what they look like,” said Brenner.
“We are going to find out,” said Rodriguez. He waved again to the Pons.
“I do not understand,” said Brenner.
“I do not like dealing with people who wear masks,” said Rodriguez.
“Why?” asked Brenner.
“Masks may conceal fangs,” he said.
He again waved affably at the Pons, who regarded them, clearly alert, clearly aware