“The Spink Museum,” Quantum says. “We have the Spink University Of Advanced Solartechnology, the Spink Baseball Stadium, and the Spink Zoological Gardens. The first space ship ever to leave Earth is in the museum, and a statue of Cyril Spink stands out in front. Made of an alloy of pollybdeum and thyrodium, and won’t ever wear out.” “If I remember the records back in my hermetically sealed cylinder,” I says. “There was a kraut went up in that rocket with Cyril Spink.” “Ha,” Quantum laughs. “He got chicken just after the takeoff and jumped out in a parachute. Maybe he landed in the Earthian alps and is preserved in old fashioned ice.” A few minutes later I am gazing at the twenty foot high statue of Cyril “Muley” Spink, Circa 1918. He is wearing a flying suit of that era when citizens flew as high as ten thousand feet. “He was the Thomas Edison of New Mu,” my cousin says. “There were only three hundred thousand people here when he arrived. Now there are seven million.” “It is hard to believe,” I says. “We Spinks could divide but we multiplied pretty lousy.” “We have an Earthian-New Mu dictionary,” Quantum tells me. “Or I should say English-New Mu lexicon. Half of us can talk your language, Sep.” Me and Quantum are taken to the New Mu High Command and decorated with the Crow De Spink. Afterward we go out onto a balcony and look down on the city of Yzocspink and my dome spins around worse than the time I first guzzled a fifth of Martian Bambuie. And when I walk the ground comes up and meets my feet instead of the other way around, and Quantum says it’s the chloryphyl in me. What worries me most is the two feelers that pop out of my noggin, but cousin tells me they’ll go back as soon as I am dechlorophylized. Yzocspink is built out of metal, I am told, four hundred times lighter than balsa wood and that no guided missile has been invented that can cut through it. All the buildings are round on top and the city looks like the back of a monstrous whale covered with yellowish green water blisters. “We will get into my private saucer and go home,” Quantum says. “You must meet my daughter, Zyb.” “Huh?” I force out of my throat. “Look, Cousin, I--er--that is, can’t I just leave now. I forgot somethin’ important on Earth. I forgot to stay there. Let’s talk things over.” It is then that I hear the bad news. Quantum Spink looks at me like I am a rodent from Nougat. “What do you think I came after you for, Septimus Spink? I’ll tell you! If Earth wants to survive another light year a true Spink will marry my daughter. Any questions?” “N-N-No!” I gulp, and guess no Spink back over the centuries ever was in a worse kettle of planetary smelts.