“But what about the booby-traps and trigger mechanisms these Pandora people have been talking about?” asked Dr. Price.

“Pandora?” asked the Hermian Ambassador quickly. “What’s that?”

“It’s a crackpot movement,” explained Sir Robert, with as much embarrassment as a diplomat was ever likely to show, “which is convinced that Rama is a grave potential danger. A box that shouldn’t be opened, you know.” He doubted if the Hermian did know: classical studies were not encouraged on Mercury.

“Pandora—paranoia,” snorted Conrad Taylor. “Oh, of course, such things are conceivable, but why should any intelligent race want to play childish tricks?”

“Well, even ruling out such unpleasantness,” Sir Robert continued, “we still have the much more ominous possibility of an active, inhabited Rama. Then the situation is one of an encounter between two cultures—at very different technological levels. Pizzaro and the Incas. Perry and the Japanese. Europe and Africa. Almost invariably, the consequences have been disastrous—for one or both parties. I’m not making any recommendations: I’m merely pointing out precedents.”

“Thank you, Sir Robert,” replied Dr. Bose. It was a mild nuisance, he thought, having two “Sirs” on one small committee; in these latter days, knighthood was an honour which few Englishmen escaped. “I’m sure we’ve all thought of these alarming possibilities. But if the creatures inside Rama are—er—malevolent—will it really make the slightest difference what we do?”

“They might ignore us if we go away.”

“What—after they’ve travelled billions of miles and thousands of years?”

The argument had reached the take-off point, and was now self-sustaining. Dr. Bose sat back in his chair, said very little, and waited for the consensus to emerge.

It was just as he had predicted. Everyone agreed that, once he had opened the first door, it was inconceivable that Commander Norton should not open the second.