hating them?"

The Wealdian doctor grimaced.

"They've blue patches on their skins. They're different from us. So
they can be pictured as a danger and our political parties can make an
election issue out of competing for the privilege of defending us from
them. They had a plague on Dara, once. They're accused of still having
it ready for export."

"Hm," said Calhoun. "The story is that they want to spread contagion
here, eh? Doesn't anybody"--his tone was sardonic--"doesn't anybody
urge that they be massacred as an act of piety?"

"Yes-s-s-s," admitted the doctor reluctantly. "It's mentioned in
political speeches."

"But how's it rationalized?" demanded Calhoun. "What's the argument to
make pigment-patches involve moral and physical degradation, as I'm
assured is the case?"

"In the public schools," said the doctor, "the children are taught
that blueskins are now carriers of the disease they survived--three
generations ago! That they hate everybody who isn't a blueskin. That
they are constantly scheming to introduce their plague here so most of
us will die and the rest will become blueskins. That's beyond
rationalizing. It can't be true, but it's not safe to doubt it."

"Bad business," said Calhoun coldly. "That sort of thing usually costs
lives in the end. It could lead to massacre!"