ars. No wonder
the sight of that stranger had nagged at Les. He'd seen that face
before.

"Now just what in the hell have we got here?" Les mused. Something
definitely worth looking into, that was for sure.

He reached for his pants.

4

Dr. Rudolph Entman, one of the world's foremost neurologists, stripped
off his rubber gloves and scowled at the strange body that lay on the
table before him.

"Goddamn it," he fumed, "it's artificially constructed. It's been
hand-made--manufactured. And there's one thing I'd give a few years of
my life to know."

Brent Taber stared moodily into Entman's myopic little eyes and asked,
"What's that, Doctor?"

"How in hell did they do it?"

"Who do you suppose _they_ are?"

Entman looked ceilingward in a manner that indicated he might either be
hunting for _them_ somewhere out beyond, or sending a prayer heavenward
in a plea for Divine counsel and guidance.

"Some form of entity with far greater intelligence than we possess."

"You can tell me more than that, can't you?" Brent asked sharply. And
when Doctor Entman looked up in surprise, he added, "Sorry for the tone.
My nerves have gotten a little edgy lately."

Entman smiled understandingly. "I don't wonder. As to this living
machine--no ... it's not a machine because it did _live_. Let's see what
we can figure out. What's it made of? The material used in its
construction is--oh, hell--how can I put it? This way, maybe. Take a
wool blanket and call it genuine flesh, blood and bone. Now, take a
blanket made of one of the new synthetics--Dacron or any one of the
other equally serviceable materials--call that the material this
creature is made of. Figuring it that way--"

"You mean our visitor's body is constructed of things that feel and look
like flesh, blood and bone--work as well, but aren't. Right?"

"Right. But, of course, that doesn't tell you anything you didn't know
before."

"But what about their potentials, their capabilities? They're
_human_--in the sense that they're exact duplicates of humans--and they
_live_, but what about emotions? If we accept the somewhat unscientific
theory that it's a soul which is responsible for feelings and emotions,
these ... these ... creatures would be handicapped." Brent paused as if
uncertain of his ground. "Wouldn't they?" he asked lamely. "I mean, they
couldn't--theoretically, at least--react to situations ... or other
people's emotions."

Doctor Entman nodded his