Martin considered himself at worst a borderline Undesirable, so he went through the unmarked door.

He found himself in a small room which, judging by the view from the window, was on a much lower level of the building. The room was bare except for the desk containing the examiner at its center, and the display screen was partially hidden by a female candidate standing before it. She turned her head briefly to look at him, then returned her attention to the screen.

She was tall, slim, dark-haired, with a firm and mature face and skin so smooth and unblemished that her age could have been anywhere between twenty-five and forty. Like the heavy, dark-rimmed spectacles she wore, her clothing was functional rather than decorative. Nevertheless, and in spite of what the examiner might decide about her as a candidate, Martin would not have described her as Undesirable.

“No, I am not frightened by your advanced technology,” she said quietly in answer to a question Martin could not see, “nor do I consider it to be magic. Your miracles are superscientific, not supernatural, in spite of the symbolism of the entrance stairs and the near Heaven you are offering us. But I keep wondering why you try so hard and often to impress us with this technology.”

Martin edged sideways until he had a clear view of the screen, upon which appeared,

IT IS OUR POLICY TO TAKE EVERY OPPORTUNITY TO DRIVE HOME THE FACT THAT THE ADVANCED TECHNOLOGY EXISTS. WHETHER OR NOT YOU HAVE OCCASION TO USE IT. OR HAVE IT USED AGAINST YOU IN THE FUTURE. DISTANCE WITHIN THE GALAXY MEANS NOTHING TO US. NEITHER ARE THERE ANY PROBLEMS OF TRANSPORTATION, SUPPLY. ACCOMMODATION. OR LIVING SPACE ON YOUR NEW HOME. WE ARE CAPABLE OF TRANSPORTING YOUR ENTIRE SPECIES. ALL OF ITS ARTIFACTS, DOMESTIC ANIMALS. LARGE NUMBERS OF NATURAL FAUNA, VEGETATION. AND EVEN THE ENTIRE GAS ENVELOPE OF YOUR PLANET WERE IT NOT SO POLLUTED AS TO BE SCARCELY BREATHABLE.