Everyone wants to make an impression on history, but most of us would prefer it to be a good impression. Some twenty-eight years ago, I wrote a story called NEEDLE, many of whose characters reappear in this book. In that story, I frequently referred to one or the other of the partners in the biological relation called symbiosis as a symbiote. It will be obvious to many that I was never exposed to a course in the classic tongues of Italy or Greece. A biology-teaching colleague pointed out to me, gently and courteously but much too late that the proper word is symbiont.

Unfortunately, my erroneous contribution to the language has appeared quite frequently in other stories and even in their titles. I regret this, but don't know what I can do about it except what I am doing now. I formally withdraw the word, symbiote, and in this book replace it with the proper one.

Those who still have hopes of formulating a science which will describe social phenomena will, I trust, have fun observing the results of this action.

If any.

Hal Clement

Of the three people in the cockpit of the Catalina, one was slightly bored, one was extremely uncomfortable but too embarrassed to admit it, and the third was wondering whether he had done the right thing.

The pilot had made the trip from Tahiti to Ell often enough and had enough thousands of hours in the amphibian that little of his conscious attention was needed for either operation or navigation. The weather was bumpy but called for no special concern and the aircraft itself was reliable enough to demand only the routine worries of the man's profession.

Robert Kinnaird did not regard the weather with the same indifference.