James Dalton strode brisklythrough the main exhibit room ofNew York’s Martian Museum,hardly glancing to right or leftthough many displays had beenadded since his last visit. Therockets were coming home regularlynow and their most valuablecargoes—at least from a scientist’spoint of view—were the relics ofan alien civilization brought tolight by the archeologists excavatingthe great dead cities.
One new exhibit did catch Dalton’seye. He paused to read thelabel with interest—
MAN FROM MARS:
The body here preserved wasfound December 12, 2001, by anexploring party from the spaceshipNEVADA, in the Martian citywhich we designate E-3. It restedin a case much like this, in abuilding that had evidently beenthe municipal museum. Aroundit, in other cases likewise undisturbedsince a period estimated atfifty thousand years ago, were anumber of Earthly artifacts. Thesefinds prove beyond doubt that aMartian scientific expeditionvisited Earth before the dawn ofour history.
On the label someone hadpainstakingly copied the Martianglyphs found on the mummy’soriginal case. Dalton’s eyes tracedthe looping ornamental script—hewas one of the very few menwho had put in the years of worknecessary to read inscriptionalMartian—and he smiled appreciationof a jest that had taken fiftythousand years to ripen—thewriting said simply, Man FromEarth.
The mummy lying on a sculpturedcatafalque beyond the glasswas amazingly well preserved—farmore lifelike and immenselyolder than anything Egypt hadyielded. Long-dead Martian embalmershad done a good jobeven on what to them was thecorpse of an other-world monster.
He had been a small wiry man.His skin was dark though itscolor might have been affectedby mummification. His featuressuggested those of the ForestIndian. Beside him lay his flaked-stoneax, his bone-pointed spearand spear thrower, likewise preservedby a marvelous chemistry.
Looking down at that ancientnameless ancestor, Dalton wasmoved to solemn thoughts. Thiscreature had been first of all human-kindto make the tremendouscrossing to Mars—had seen itslost race in living glory, had diedthere and became a museum exhibitfor the multiple eyes of wisegrey spiderish aliens.
“Interested in Oswald, sir?”
Dalton glanced up and saw anattendant. “I was just thinking—ifhe could only talk! He doeshave a name, then?”
The guard grin