Part 3 (1/2)

”How can you be sure of that? You've had so many ident.i.ties, why should this be the true one? No, you only _think_ you're Paul Lambrequin. I _know_ I am.”

”Dammit,” Paul said, ”that's the ident.i.ty in which I've taken out Equity members.h.i.+p. And be reasonable, Ivo--there can't be two Paul Lambrequins.”

Ivo smiled sadly. ”No, Paul, you're right. There can't.”

Of course Paul had known all along that Ivo was not a human being. It was only now, however, that full realization came to him of what a ruthless alien monster the other was, existing only to gratify his own purposes, unaware that others had a right to exist.

”Are--are you going to--dispose of me, then?” Paul asked faintly.

”To dispose of you, yes, Paul. But not to kill you. My kind has killed enough, conquered enough. We have no real population problem; that was just an excuse we made to salve our own consciences.”

”You have consciences, do you?” Paul's face twisted in a sneer that he himself sensed right away was overly melodramatic and utterly unconvincing. Somehow, he could never be really genuine offstage.

Ivo made a sweeping gesture. ”Don't be bitter, Paul. Of course we do.

All intelligent life-forms do. It's one of the penalties of sentience!”

For a moment, Paul forgot himself. ”Watch it, Ivo. You're beginning to ham up your lines.”

”We can inst.i.tute birth control,” Ivo went on, his manner subdued. ”We can build taller buildings. Oh, there are many ways we can cope with the population increase. That's not the problem. The problem is how to divert our creative energies from destruction to construction. And I think I have solved it.”

”How will your people know you have,” Paul asked cunningly, ”since you say you're not going back?”

”_I_ am not going back to Sirius, Paul--_you_ are. It is you who are going to teach my people the art of peace to replace the art of war.”

Paul felt himself turn what was probably a very effective white.

”But--but I can't even speak the language! I--”

”You will learn the language during the journey. I spent those afternoons I was away making a set of _Sirian-in-a-Jiffy_ records for you. Sirian's a beautiful language, Paul, much more expressive than any of your Earth languages. You'll like it.”

”I'm sure I shall, but--”

”Paul, you are going to bring my people the outlet for self-expression they have always needed. You see, I lied to you. The theater on Sirius is not in its infancy; it has never been conceived. If it had been, we would never have become what we are today. Can you imagine--a race like mine, so superbly fitted to practice the dramatic art, remaining in blind ignorance that such an art exists!”

”It does seem a terrible waste,” Paul had to agree, although he could not be truly sympathetic just then. ”But I am hardly equipped--”

”Who is better equipped than you to meet this mighty challenge? Can't you see that at long last you will be able to achieve your great synthesis of the theatrical arts--as producer, teacher, director, actor, playwright, whatever you will, working with a cast of individuals who can a.s.sume any shape or form, who have no preconceived notions of what can be done and what cannot. Oh, Paul, what a glorious opportunity awaits you on Sirius V. How I envy you!”

”Then why don't you do it yourself?” Paul asked.

Ivo smiled sadly again. ”Unfortunately, I do not have your manifold abilities. All I can do is act. Superbly, of course, but that's all. I don't have the capacity to build a living theater from scratch. You do.

I have talent, Paul, but you have genius.”