"That it's unfortunate Cantrell had this animal fear; it's much too easy to blame that for what he saw. As a psychiatrist, I suppose I should say that's the reason for it; I might be right. But it has also occurred to me I might be rationalizing." He leaned forward, intensely serious. "Suppose, just suppose for a minute that maybe _we_'re the ones who are wrong, that maybe we're really parasites on an alien organism, that maybe we're under a kind of mass auto-hypnosis to protect our pride, and that maybe space restores our sanity--for awhile anyway, until another form of insanity takes over." "Anyone who supposed that would be crazy," Evans blurted. "Perhaps," Jarvis admitted, "but who's to tell? I wonder, does the flea know the true nature of the dog, or does he think _he's_ living on some kind of world built just for him?" Evans sputtered, searching for words. Finally he managed, "See here, Captain, this is nonsense, and I order you to stop such talk immediately." Jarvis sighed. "I hope so, Colonel, I really hope it is nonsense. Man is a proud animal; it's interesting to consider how such knowledge would affect him." He shrugged helplessly and turned to leave the room. "At any rate, the only way to find out is to send up another man in another rocket and hope he doesn't report the same thing; if he does, we'll just blame it on one of his psychological quirks, and try again. But for all we know about this universe, Earth might be a space-animal, a type of life so close to us and yet so alien we don't even recognize it--or don't want to!" Colonel Evans wet his lips. "Do you--do you really believe that, Captain?" Jarvis considered the question. "No," he said slowly. "No, I don't. But I _do_ think it points up an important fact. When a man gets out there in space, cut off from everything he's ever known, allergies, idiosyncrasies, personal likes and dislikes--everything on a conscious _and_ a subconscious level may take on an exaggerated importance." "You make it a big problem," Evans said. "It _is_ a big problem," Jarvis sighed. "At any rate, I'm going to volunteer for the next flight. That's the least I can do for Cantrell." He went out. The Colonel stared after him, puzzled and slightly indignant. He shook his head. The man was crazy. Earth an animal--the idea was preposterous. But the thought hammered at him, repeating. Jarvis was right, of course, when he said it was undoubtedly psychological. And yet suppose--just suppose.... Trembling, he shook off the thought and looked out at the field, the buildings, the sky, Earth's pale satellite emerging from the sky like a child following in the wake of its mother. They say the moon came out of Earth, he thought suddenly, and the analogy struck home. The man in the moon looked down at him, and he turned hastily away. The afternoon was warm, but Colonel Evans suddenly felt very cold.