"That's only a small percent of the world's population," Johnson said. He took hold of one of Zeke's boneless, spongy arms. "Come on. We go on up now to the air-lock doors. In a few minutes we'll be out of here and you'll be presented to the world." They were inside the Garden now, the rocket being moved by a giant crane to a position beside the speakers' platform. A ramp was connecting the two. The doors started to open and Stromberg and Hinton stood with stiff, glowing expectancy. Johnson stood behind them, holding on to Zeke whose eight-foot body slumped with its own peculiar kind of expectancy. In all his 32 years Johnson had never been exactly a social animal. Devoted largely to field work, he had accustomed himself either by choice or necessity or both to an extraordinary degree of isolation. The two years in space hadn't bothered him. He was somewhat anxious to see his friends, but not overly so. In fact the sight of those countless gaping faces, the packed masses of humanity, had frightened him a little. It had been so utterly peaceful out there in space, and on the high, cold plateaus of Mars. Odd how formidable seemed the prospect of meeting this gigantic social obligation of facing the whole world. Maybe two years away from Earth was too long. He could hear the interminable speeches droning away outside the opening doors. Everybody was waiting out there on that platform. Presidents and envoys from the Big Three nations, and many slightly less important figures. Everybody who could possibly claim to be anybody. "From now on," whispered Hinton, "we live like Kings! A pension for life. And a hero forever. The dames--" "Quiet, please," whispered Captain Stromberg. Hinton dropped back. He nudged Johnson. "Even the thing here, your friend that walks like a man, will be treated by the world like a prince." Johnson squeezed Hinton's arm and Hinton winced. "Watch what you say, Hinton. It knows some English now." "You treat it like it's a human being," Hinton said. Johnson had no answer to that except agreement. Changing Hinton's attitudes was something else again. Johnson didn't consider the project quite worth the time and trouble. He shrugged. "This is it," Johnson warned Zeke. Every time he talked in Martian his jaw ached. It was quite a feat. The present speaker's voice like a worn soundtrack was saying: "... and now, waiting world, here they are...." "Ready?" Captain Stromberg whispered. "... the first to make a voyage to another planet! The first visitor from another world!..." Their names being called, and then-- "... and our guest from the planet Mars--Zeke!"