Lynne found herself wondering at the morals of her new companions. They certainly didn't seem backward about sex--and the planet-wide dislike of privacy seemed to extend into even their most intimate personal relationships. Yet when Lynne thought about Janet Downes and certain other young men and women of the supposedly more civilized home planet, she decided the Martians were probably the nicer. At any rate they lived their emotional lives right out in the open. For the first time since her first few days on the red planet she felt alone as she stepped off the uplift and entered her listening and message-post, high in the crystal tower. There was something frightening about sitting alone in this ruined building with the wind making its night sounds through the flying buttresses about her and what appeared like the whole of Mars stretched out in panorama before her. It had looked desolate enough in the daylight. Now, with the stars blazing an enigmatic backdrop, it looked dark--and twice as desolate. Lynne found herself wondering what strange and fearsome caravans, what hideous battles and frightful plagues, had passed within view of her post. She seemed to see again the strange capering figures of the murals and bas-reliefs, and of the vision-grid she had viewed telepathically that afternoon in the distant hospital room at New Samarkand. She told herself she was getting the jams, sent a tune-up message through to Cathayville. Though the telepathic operator should have been on duty there was no response. She reached out further to locate Revere, could not get to him, found Rolf. He told her, _Lay off, you_ marlet, _Lynne. You nearly jammed the works this afternoon._ _How is Revere?_ She was insistent. _In coma--and hereafter use the proper channels, Lynne. You're supposed to key all messages for New Samarkand through Cathayville._ _Cathayville fails to answer_, she informed him. _Cease sending at once! Cease sending at once, Lynne. If Cathayville is out it means.... Cease sending at once!_ _What does if mean?_ Lynne was unused to Martian directness, unused to taking peremptory orders, especially from a man. She had no intention of obeying before she was good and ready and.... Suddenly they were there, all around her. Thanks to having viewed the murals and the scene on the visual-grid that afternoon she was able to get some idea of their nature--or what had been their nature before a dying globe had driven them to seek the refuge of pure thought and feeling-forms. First one of them came fluttering into the room, like some giant invisible moth, then came another and another and another until she lost count. They were gay for some reason and nibbled at her mind like moths nibbling at wool in a closet.