Tarnsman of Gor   ::   Норман Джон

"Exploratory satellites can be similarly dealt with," added my father. He paused. "Of course, — I only propose hypotheses, for what the Priest-Kings do and how it is done is known only to them."

I drained the last sip of the heady wine in the metal goblet.

"Actually," said my father, "there is evidence of the existence of the Counter-Earth."

I looked at him.

"Certain natural signals in the radio band of the spectrum," said my father.

My astonishment must have been obvious.

"Yes," he said, "but since the hypothesis of another world is regarded as so incredible, this evidence has been interpreted to accord with other theories; sometimes even imperfections in instrumentation have been supposed rather than admit the presence of another world in our solar system."

"But why would this evidence not be understood?" I asked.

"Surely you know," he laughed, "one must distinguish between the data to be interpreted and the interpretation of the data, and one chooses, normally, the interpretation that preserves as much as possible of the old world view, and, in the thinking of the Earth, there is no place for Gor, its true sister planet, the Counter-Earth."

My father had finished speaking. He rose and gripped me by the shoulders, held me for a moment and smiled. Then silently the door in the wall slid aside, and he strode from the room. He had not spoken to me of my role or destiny, whatever it was to be. He did not wish to discuss the reason for which I had been brought to the Counter-Earth, nor did he explain to me the comparatively minor mysteries of the envelope and its strange letter. Most keenly perhaps, I missed that he had not spoken to me of himself, for I wanted to know him, that kindly remote stranger whose bones were in my body, whose blood flowed in mine — my father.

I now inform you that what I write of my own experience I know to be true, and that what I have accepted on authority I believe to be true, but I shall not be offended if you disbelieve, for 1, too, in your place, would refuse to believe. Indeed, on the small evidence I can present in this narrative, you are obliged, in all honesty, to reject my testimony or at the very least to suspend judgment. In fact, there is so little probability that this tale will be believed that the Priest-Kings of Sardar, the Keepers of the Sacred Place, have apparently granted that it may be recorded. I am glad of this, because I must tell this story. I have seen things of which I must speak, even if, as it is said here, only to the Towers.