re set up?

"I don't want to make a long story of our problems," smiled Dr. Harding.
"If we could visit your planet in person, there would be no difficulty.
But 10,000 light-years is an impossible barrier to all except thought
waves, which, of course, travel at infinite speed. And this, as I said
before, is very unfortunate, because the human race is doomed."

The tailor stiffened. "Doomed? Molly? My kids? All my customers?"

"_Your_ customers?" yelped the woman in the housecoat. "How about mine?
What's gonna happen, the world should be doomed?"

Clocker found admiration for Dr. Harding's approach. It was a line tried
habitually by politicians, but they didn't have the same kind of captive
audience, the control, the contrived background. A cosmic pitch like
this could bring a galactic payoff, whatever it might be. But it didn't
take his mind off Zelda.

"I see you are somewhat aghast," Dr. Harding observed. "But is my
statement _really_ so unexpected? You know the history of your own
race--a record of incessant war, each more devastating than the last.
Now, finally, Man has achieved the power of worldwide destruction. The
next war, or the one after that, will unquestionably be the end not only
of civilization, but of humanity--perhaps even your entire planet. Our
peaceful, altruistic civilization might help avert catastrophe, but that
would require our physical landing on Earth, which is not possible. Even
if it were, there is not enough time. Armageddon draws near.

"Then why have we brought you here?" asked Dr. Harding. "Because Man, in
spite of his suicidal blunders, is a magnificent race. He must not
vanish without leaving _a complete record_ of his achievements."

The crowd nodded soberly. Clocker wished he had a cigarette and his
wife. In her right mind, Zelda was unswervingly practical and she would
have had some noteworthy comments to make.

"This is the task we must work together on," said Dr. Harding
forcefully. "Each of you has a skill, a talent, a special knowledge we
need for the immense record we are compiling. Every area of human
society must be covered. We need you--urgently! Your data will become
part of an imperishable social document that shall exist untold eons
after mankind has perished."

* * * * *

Visibly, the woman in the housecoat was stunned. "They want to put down
what _I_ can tell them?"

"And tailoring?" asked the little man with the pin-cushion ve