"Tebron Marl. He's the link between their barbaric and civilized
periods. I've only begun to get into it."

Manning was waving for more drinks; he caught a waiter's eye and then
turned back to Rynason. "What's this nonsense about some damned block
you ran into? Have you got a crazy horse on your hands?"

"There's something strange there," Rynason said. "He tells me this
Tebron was actually supposed to have communicated with their god, or
whatever he was. It sounds crazy, all right. But there's more to it than
that, I'm sure of it. I wanted time to go into it further before I made
my report."

"I think you've got a nut alien there, boy. Don't let him foul you up;
you're one of my best men."

Rynason almost sneered, but he managed to bring it out as a grin. The
role of protective father did not sit well on Manning's shoulders.
"We're dealing here with a remarkably sane race," he pointed out. "The
very fact that they have total recall argues against any insanity in
them. There've been experiments on the inner worlds for over a century
now, trying to bring out total recall in us, and not much luck so far.
We're a sick, hung-up race."

Manning slapped his hand down on the table. "What the hell are you
trying to do, Lee? Are you trying to measure these aliens by our
standards? I thought you had better sense. Total recall doesn't
necessarily mean a damn thing in them--but when they start telling you
straightforward and cold that they've talked with some god, and then
they throw what sounds like an anxiety fit right in front of you....