t.

Norden stood very still, whistling while the sphere approached. A
little tentacle of flame reached out toward him.

Taylor expected to see Norden disappear in a flash of fire, but
the flame seemed to caress. A soft glow seemed to diffuse from
the man's clothing and body.

The sphere, too, seemed to change, growing softer and more
mellow. It wasn't a tangible substance, but something ethereal,
like the flicker of flame over an open hearth. Some tremendous
force seemed to hold the sphere in globular shape.

Taylor could see the chimerical eyes peering through the surface
of the sphere. He looked into the depths of those eyes and still
could not be sure they were not an illusion. The intensity of the
creatures' intelligence seemed to shine from within, giving the
impression of staring, haunting eyes. They were not organs of
sight, but they were the windows of the mind. They were the
source of those tenuous flames that seemed to caress Norden.

As Taylor looked at the eyes he felt plunged into the pathless
depths of a vast, powerful brain. He was in contact with an infinity
of intelligence far beyond limits of human comprehension. It was a
surging intelligence of energy, abysmal, vaporous and limitless,
transcending the dimensions, out-reaching boundless time,
overshadowing matter.

The eyes made Taylor forget he was a man. His own mind seemed
merged in the intellectual energy floating among the monster
machines of the forge room. Dimly, he was conscious that this
power was not directed at him, but at Norden who stood, still
whistling, in front of the globe.

The sphere was whistling, too, and the sound transformed itself
into music of the stars.

A discordant note rose in the song from Norden's imitation of the
voice. Norden was shrieking hatred for Taylor's nation, for all
those who opposed the self-designated supermen of the world.

"My race must be preserved!"

The thought was Norden's, reflected to Taylor from the shoreless
depths of the energy brain.

"All other peoples are evil, decadent, and are doomed to slavery
under the man of the future. The future man will be a child of my
race. My race is superior. From it the _uberman_ will rise. You
must help. Prey on these inferior peoples. They do not deserve to
live."

The sphere's hues changed, reddish, then yellow, back to orange.

"Is this Norden a man?" came the sphere's questioning thought.
"Why doesn't he flee? Why doesn't he scream in terror?