"It's a comfort to talk to you," he confessed. "You make it easier to express the inexpressible. What was I saying? Oh, yes." He frowned. "I get to fancying sometimes that the crew of us were brought together, herded into this incredible monstrosity, and then spewed forth in accordance with some age-old plan. It's almost as if the little world we're in had a life of its own and had been sent forth with the blessings of the parent Earth to work out its own destiny. What do you think, Pearl? In your infinite wisdom--or simplicity--tell me. At least it _could_ be true." The girl's lips parted. "It could be true," she echoed. He shrugged. Often you could get a response from her by making an emphatic effort, but it was usually like this--some amiable repetition of the words you put in her mouth. "All right," he retorted, as if she had contradicted him, "say that I'm screwy! But tell me--what do we know about other possible states of consciousness? We think we understand human consciousness--because we're experiencing it. We credit animals with consciousness because they act in a limited way like humans. But how do we know there aren't other phases of consciousness? How do we know that a tree isn't a conscious entity, or a rock, or this globe--or the Earth? How do we know?" "How do we know?" parroted the girl. She smiled up at his tense features, as if trying to please him. Beyond her, in the shadowy obscurity of the girders, he caught a glimpse of Link's monkey-like face peering furtively down at them. He broke off abruptly. "You're a bad influence, Pearl. You encourage a fellow to voice crazy ideas. First thing I know, I'll be swinging around on girders myself." CHAPTER XI McGruder, who as a rule evinced little interest in matters beyond eating, sleeping, and following the feminine members of the party with pig-like, calculating eyes, was the one who made the discovery. He had climbed to the observation scaffold and peeped idly through the periscope. His yell of dismay reverberated through the interior of the vessel. "We're gonna hit the moon!" he shouted, as the others scrambled into view. Marlin gained the platform. "What's the idea!" he demanded sharply. "We aren't within a million miles of the moon." McGruder gulped, gesturing toward the periscope. Marlin remained glued to the instrument until DuChane cut in roughly: "Give someone else a chance. What's out there?" Marlin relinquished his post. His voice sounded unnaturally strained. "See for yourself." It did look like a shrunken version of the old familiar moon--a gleaming disc shining brilliantly against the inky blackness of space. "We're approaching a solar body of some sort," Marlin told the others, who had struggled up to the platform. His eyes inadvertently sought Pearl. "Maybe this is the answer to--" He broke off. DuChane straightened from the eyepiece.