Mryna asked to be allowed to speak to someone in authority in the
government. The Chicago port manager told her the request was absurd.
For nine minutes Mryna argued, with a mounting sense of urgency, before
he gave his grudging consent. Her trouble was that she had to skate
close to the truth without admitting it directly. She could not--except
as a last resort--let them kill her until they knew why the isolation of
Rythar had failed.

It was thirteen minutes before landing when Mryna finally heard an
older, more dignified voice on the speaker. By then the green globe of
Earth filled the sky; Mryna could make out the shapes of the continents
turning below her. The older man identified himself as a senator elected
to the planetary Congress. She didn't know how much authority he
represented, but she couldn't afford to wait any longer.

She told him frankly who she was. She knew she was pronouncing her own
death sentence, yet she spoke quietly. She must show the same courage
that the Earthmen had when they sacrificed themselves in the Guardian
Wheel.

"Listen to me for two minutes more before you blast my ship," she asked.
"I rode the god-car up from Rythar--I am coming now to spread the
Sickness on Earth--because I wanted to know the truth about something
that puzzled me. I had to know what was above the rain mist. In the
answer house you would not tell us that. Now I understand why. We were
children. You were waiting for us to mature. And that is the mistake you
made; that blindness nearly destroyed your civilization.

"You will have to build another Guardian Wheel. This time don't hide
anything from us because we're children. The truth makes us mature, not
illusions or taboos. Never forget that. It is easier to face a fact than
to have to give up a dream we've been taught to believe. Tell your
children the truth when they ask for it. Tell us, please. We can adjust
to it. We're just as human as you are."

Mryna drew a long breath. Her lips were trembling. Did this man
understand what she had tried to say? She would never know. If she
failed, Earth--in spite of its generosity and its courage--would one day
be destroyed by children bred on too many delusions. "I'm ready," Mryna
said steadily. "Send up your warships and destroy me."

She waited. Less than ten minutes were left. Her shuttle began to move
more slowly. She was no more than a mile above Earth. She saw the
soaring cities and the white highways twisti