Science fiction; Short stories; Time travel -- Fiction
"Or worse," Corrigan said, stirring the grass with his toes. "Did you
get what he was thinking about when he talked about his world and ours
getting into touch, and civilizing us?"
"I got it, all right." Burwell said. "The fellow's mind was a swamp. A
real primitive. And just like any other primitive, all he needed was a
placebo from a witch doctor. Me, in my savage regalia. Just let me get
this thing with the glass in it off my nose, and these button things
opened up a bit, and we can get on with that chess game. I hope the
next traveler picks somewhere else to land, though--I've never felt so
silly in my life!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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