trate. It had made little difference in the
Niobian way of life, which was exactly as the natives wanted it.

It was odd, I reflected, how little change had taken place in Niobian
society despite better than two decades of exposure to Confederation
technology. Actually, the Confederation could leave tomorrow, and would
hardly be missed. There would be no cultural vacuum. The strangers would
simply be gone. Possibly some of our artifacts would be used. The atomic
power-broadcast station would possibly stay, and so would the
high-powered radio. Perhaps some of the gadgetry the natives had
acquired from us would be used until it was worn out, but the pattern of
the old ways would stay pretty much as it had always been. For Niobian
culture was primarily philosophical rather than technological, and it
preferred to remain that way.

I parked my floater beside the house that had sheltered Kron as long as
I had known him. I entered without announcing myself.

As an old friend I had this privilege, although I seldom used it. But if
I had come formally there would have been an endless rigmarole of social
convention that would have had to be satisfied before we could get down
to business. I didn't want to waste the time.

* * * * *

Kron was seated behind a surprisingly modern desk, reading a book by the
light of a Confederation glowtube. I looked at its title--_The Analects
of Confucius_--and blinked. I'd heard of it. It and Machiavelli's
_Prince_ are classics on governmental personality and philosophy, but I
had never read it. Yet here, hundreds of light years from the home
world, this naked alien was reading and obviously enjoying that ancient
work. It made me feel oddly ashamed of myself.

He looked up at me, nodded a greeting and laid the book down with a
faint expression of regret on his doglike face. I found a chair and sat
down silently. I wondered how he found time to read. My job with the BEE
kept me busy every day of the 279-day year. And his, which was more
important and exacting than mine, gave him time to read philosophy! I
sighed. It was something I could never understand.

I waited for him to speak. As host, it was his duty to open the wall of
silence which separated us.

"Greetings, friend Lanceford," Kron said. "My eyes are happy with the
pleasure of beholding you." He spoke in the ancient Niobian formula of
hospitality. But he made it sound as though he really meant it.