Jon Saxon was the first man out of the helicopter. He stood stock-still while the others climbed out, his scalp tingling, his eyes sweeping the magnificent panorama. The faces of buildings like the sheer fracture of tinted ice walled in the square, with here and there a canyon street slicing off from it. Ileth scrambled out last, asked, "Jon, what's wrong? You're pale as a ghost." "I don't know." The tingling in his hair roots was becoming less pronounced as his extra-human sixth sense adjusted. He was still aware of the aliens but not uncomfortably so. "You--you don't feel anything?" He started. "How did you know I could feel things?" "I didn't!" Ileth's hazel-green eyes were enormous. "Good Lord, Jon, I only thought you could sense their thoughts, maybe, if anything was around. I didn't.... Can you feel things? You can, can't you? I should have guessed it." Saxon's expression had grown grimmer with each word. When Ileth asked, "What are you?" in a hushed voice, he snapped, "Homo Superior!" "Homo Superior?" She looked startled, then raised her eyebrows. "You don't fancy yourself much, do you?" They had drawn gradually away from the others. He looked back. Basil, the geographer, and his helper had set up their instruments. They were taking readings, making swift notations. They had the three-dimensional camera recording impressions, and the automatic mapper was beginning to scratch a few tentative lines on its plastic rolls. "I think we ought to stick together," Saxon volunteered. "I know it'll be impossible to keep the geographers by us, but the rest had better hang together." Ileth shivered and asked, "Then there is something here?" The silence was absolute. Not a breath of air stirred anywhere. Saxon hesitated, said at last, "Yes, I think so." "What?" "I don't know." Clo-Javel, approached them, straightening her short kilt-like skirts. The archaeologist's costume was brief and practical, but of more importance to Clo-Javel's way of thinking, the red skirt disclosed a goodly length of her really remarkable legs. Clo-Javel was even more proud of her legs than of her reconstruction of the New York skyscrapers. She said, "Did you ever see such buildings? What makes them look so weird?" Saxon wrinkled his brow, his eyes returning to the glittering facade of cliff-like structures as they waited for the rest of their party to come up. "I think," he said hesitantly, "it's because, it's because everything looks so new. As if the city was only finished yesterday and had never been used." "That's it," Ileth burst out. Mercedes joined them. She too, was wearing kilts, but hers were longer than Clo-Javel's and gray and her jacket was a commodious affair with many pockets. "What's that?" she asked catching the tail end of the conversation. "The city looks as if it has never been lived in," Ileth explained. Mercedes lit a cigarette, said, "Nonsense, whoever heard of building a city and then not using it."