happy street, a kaleidoscope of color
and movement that approached and went past in successive waves and
masses. This was a gala day, this eve of world union! The insigne of
the UN was everywhere. The aliens had used the organization to further
their plans and it was now all-powerful. A solid bank of UN flags led
the van of delegates, smiling and swathed in formal dress, sitting
erect in their black official cars draped with the flags of native
lands that would soon be furled forever if the aliens had their way.

And behind them came the Aztlans!

They rode together, standing on a pure white float, a bar of dazzling
white in a sea of color. All equal, their inhumanly beautiful faces
calm and remote, the Aztlans rode through the joyful crowd. There was
something inspiring about the sight and for a moment, Matson felt a
wave of revulsion sweep through him.

He sighed and thumbed the safety to "off", pulled the cocking lever
and slid the first cartridge into the breech. He settled himself
drawing a breath of air into his lungs, letting a little dribble out
through slack lips, catching the remainder of the exhalation with
closed glottis. The sights wavered and steadied upon the head of the
center alien, framing the pale noble face with its aureole of golden
hair. The luminous eyes were dull and introspective as the alien tried
to withdraw from the emotions of the crowd. There was no awareness of
danger on the alien's face. At 600 yards he was beyond their esper
range and he was further covered by the feelings of the crowd. The
sights lowered to the broad chest and centered there as Matson's
spatulate fingers took up the slack in the trigger and squeezed softly
and steadily.

A coruscating glow bathed the bodies of three of the aliens as their
tall forms jerked to the smashing impact of the bullets! Their
metallic tunics melted and sloughed as inner fires ate away the
fragile garments that covered them! Flexible synthetic skin cracked
and curled in the infernal heat, revealing padding, wirelike tendons,
rope-like cords of flexible tubing and a metallic skeleton that melted
and dripped in white hot drops in the heat of atomic flame--

"Robots!" Matson gasped with sudden blinding realization. "I should
have known! No wonder they seemed inhuman. Their builders would never
dare expose themselves to the furies and conflicts of our emotionally
uncontrolled world!"

One of the aliens crouched on the float, his four-fing