THERE was a lake there, on that dry plain-or there seemed to be... Along its shores were odd trees. Beyond them loomed a city wall, covered with vines. And rearing up over the rampart were high buildings topped by carved pavillion-like structures, orinate as Burmese pagodas. Over it all was a sky, soft and blue...

knew then, at least, what the mirage, or whatever you care to call it, represented. Primitive Io, long before the last days-when the whole Jovian system was new. I had thought of those times, and here, somehow, it was crystallizing before me. Real.

"Russ," I gasped. "Russ - I see a city - like the ruins of the most ancient cities here on Io. The ones whose foundations you can hardly trace! Down there on the plain at the end of the gorge!"

..."You're right, Milt!" he grated. "I see it now - the city - the details filling themselves in, each one as you describe it... And I see a city gate. People are coming out of it-goblin people, very slender and pallid...

I hadn't seen the people either, or heard the music. But these parts of the vision were all there, now, clear and vivid! It was as though everything was imaginary, somehow, though it all seemed so real

I was in a kind of drunken fuddle. The lake there, fascinated me. I saw goblinfolk wading into it, the cool water splashing around their thin knees.... Suddenly I was aware of a tremendous yearning, stronger than any perhaps more logical fear. "Russ," I mumbled. "The lake... Let's go swimming...