if you
draw it, you'll be hurt."

"How?"

"I have my own means of protection."

"How did you know my name?"

"I've known about you almost since you set foot upon Earth. We are not
entirely without resources you know. But we can discuss all that inside.
Won't you come in?"

"I think I'd rather not."

"I'm afraid you have to. Come, Barrent, I won't bite you."

"Am I under arrest?"

"Of course not. We're simply going to have a little talk. That's right,
sir, right through there. Just make yourself comfortable."

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Dravivian led him into a large room paneled in walnut. The furniture was
of a heavy, black wood, intricately carved and varnished. The desk, high
and straight, seemed to be an antique. A heavy tapestry covered one
entire wall. It depicted, in fading colors, a medieval hunting scene.

"Do you like it?" Dravivian asked. "My family did the furnishing. My
wife copied the tapestry from an original in the Metropolitan Museum. My
two sons collaborated on the furniture. They wanted something ancient
and Spanish in feeling, but with more comfort than antiques usually
give. A slight modification of the lines accomplished that. My own
contributions are not visible. Music of the baroque period is my
specialty."

"Aside from policework," Barrent said.

"Yes, aside from that." Dravivian turned away from Barrent and looked
thoughtfully at the tapestry. "We will come to the matter of the police
in due course. Tell me first, what do you think of this room?"

"It's very beautiful," Barrent said.

"Yes. And?"

"Well--I'm no judge."

"You _must_ judge," Dravivian said. "In this room you can see Earth's
civilization in miniature. Tell me what you think of it."

"It feels lifeless," Barrent said.

Dravivian turned to Barrent and smiled. "Yes, that's a good word for it.
Self-involved might perhaps be better. This is a high-status room,
Barrent. A great deal of creativity has gone into the artistic
improvement of ancient archetypes. My family has re-created a bit of the
Spanish past, as others have re-created bits of the Mayan, Early
American, or Oceanic past. And yet, the essential hollowness is obvious.
Our automatized factories produce the same goods for us year in and year
out. Since everyone has these same goods, it is necessary for us to
change the factory product, to improve and embroider it, to express
ourselves through it, to rank ourselves by it. That's how Earth is,
Barre