Not at all difficult, thought Sherman, relaxing a bit; indeed the difficulty in human communication lies not in withholding thoughts but in expressing them.
His interlocutor went on, "Ah, but the feeling, the thought is generally understood, though it may not be clear. Tell me, have you never withheld a thought from someone who wished to know it?"
Yes, thought Sherman, I have—and remembered the poker game at the Cleveland airport when he had drawn two cards and unexpectedly filled a straight flush to win the biggest pot of the evening from Barney's full house; and of the time when he had thought of numerous unpleasant ways of slaying the mechanic who had left a leak in his oil-line and of the time when a girl had tried to gold-dig him and he had divined her intention first, and of the time when he had lifted the knife—!!!
Again that jar! He realized with a start that the Lassan having failed to pick his brain with friendliness, was trying to do it with flattery, and the realization so filled him with anger that he had no difficulty in resisting the pressure that was applied to make him tell, tell, tell what had happened in the machine-room at the end of the passage.
Once more the pressure relaxed. The Lassan was congratulating him again. "No, this is sincere this time and not flattery. You win. I shall not try to make you tell me again. We can probably obtain it from the other one anyway. Oh, man of a debased and alien race, I salute you. If your race were all like you we might breed them for intelligence and live in cooperation with you. It is almost a pity you had to be mechanized. If there is any information you wish, I will gladly exchange with you. We have seen your homes, we are curious—imagine living above the ground!—and from others of your race we know that you have many fine machines, almost a civilization, in fact. We would willingly know more of it and in return will tell you of our accomplishments."
Could this offer conceal some new trap? Sherman wondered, but the Lassan divined this thought as soon as formed, and reassured him. "Since we now live here and since there are so few of your folk left it is important that we know about each other. We must live side by side—why not in friendship?"
The offer seemed fair enough. At all events if there were any injudicious questions he could turn them aside, and there was a good deal he wished to learn—about his mechanized body, about the purpose of those curious machines, the blue-domed halls, the silver fish, the interweavings of this underground city, where the Lassans had come from—he assented.
"Good," the message reached him. "Suppose you ask a question and then I will. What do you wish to know?"
"How I was made into a machine."