Karl Frantor found the prospect a terribly dismal one. From low-hanging clouds, fell eternal misty rain; squat, rubbery vegetation with its dull, reddish-brown colour stretched away in all directions. Now and then a Hop-scotch Bird fluttered wildly above them, emitting plaintive squawks as it went.

Karl turned his head to gaze at the tiny dome of Aphrodopolis , largest city on Venus.

“God,” he muttered, “even the dome is better than this awful world out here.” He pulled the rubberized fabric of his coat closer about him. “I’ll be glad to get back to Earth again.”

He turned to the slight figure of Antil, the Venusian, “When are we coming to the ruins, Antil?”

There was no answer and Karl noticed the tear that rolled down the Venusian’s green, puckered cheeks. Another glistened in the large, lemur-like eyes; soft, incredibly beautiful eyes.

The Earthman’s voice softened. “Sorry, Antil, I didn’t mean to say anything against Venus.”

Antil turned his green face toward Karl, “It was not that, my friend. Naturally, you would not find much to admire in an alien world. I, however, love Venus, and I weep because I am overcome with its beauty.” The words came fluently but with the inevitable distortion caused by vocal cords unfitted for harsh-languages.

“I know its seems incomprehensible to you,” Antil continued, “but to me Venus is a paradise, a golden land-I cannot express my feelings for it properly.”

“Yet there are some that say only Earthmen can love.” Karl’s sympathy was strong and sincere.

The Venusian shook his head sadly. “There is much besides the capacity to feel emotion that your people deny us.”

Karl changed the subject hurriedly. ‘Tell me, Antil, doesn’t Venus present a dull aspect even to you? You’ve been to Earth and should know. How can this eternity of brown and grey compare t© the living, warm colours of Earth?”

“It is far more beautiful to me. You forget that my colour sense is so enormously different from yours. [The Venusian eye can distinguish between two tints, the wavelengths of which differ by as little as five Angstrom units. They see thousands of colours to which Earthmen are blind.-Author.] How can I explain the beauties, the wealth of colour in which this landscape abounds?” He fell silent, lost in the wonders he spoke of, while to the Terrestrial the deadly, melancholy grey remained unchanged.

“Someday,” Antil’s voice came as from a person in a dream, “Venus will once more belong to the Venusians. The Earthlings shall no longer rule us, and the glory of our ancestors shall return to us.”

Karl laughed. “Come, now, Antil, you speak like a member of the Green Bands, that are giving the government so much trouble. I thought you didn’t believe in violence.”

“I don’t, Karl,” Antil’s eyes were grave and rather frightened, “but the extremists are gaining power, and I fear the worst. And if-if open rebellion against Earth breaks out, I must join them.”

“But you disagree with them.”

“Yes, of course,” he shrugged his shoulders, a gesture he had learned from Earthmen, “we can gain nothing by violence. There are five billion of you and scarcely a hundred million of us. You have resources and weapons while we have none. It would be a fool’s venture, and even should we win, we might leave such a heritage of hatred that there could never be peace among our two planets.”

“Then why join them?”

“Because I am a Venusian.”

The Earthman burst into laughter again. “Patriotism, it seems, is as irrational On Venus as on Earth. But come, let us proceed to the ruins of your ancient city. Are we nearly there?”

“Yes,” answered Antil, “it’s a matter of little more than an Earth mile now. Remember, however, that you are to disturb nothing. The ruins of Ash-taz.-zor are sacred to us, as the sole existing remnant of the time when we, too, were a great race, rather than the degenerate remains of one.”

They walked on in silence, slogging through the soft earth beneath, dodging the writhing roots of the Snaketree, and giving the occasional Tumbling Vines they passed a wide berth.

It was Antil who resumed the conversation.

“Poor Venus.” His quiet, wistful voice was sad. “Fifty years ago the Earthman came with promises of peace and plenty-and we believed. We showed them the emerald mines and the juju weed and their eyes glittered with desire. More and more came, and their arrogance grew. And now-”

“It’s too bad, Antil,” Karl said, “but you really feel too strongly about it.”

“Too strongly! Are we allowed to vote? Have we any representation at all in the Venusian Provincial Congress? Aren’t there laws against Venusians riding in the same stratocars as Earthlings, or eating in the same hotel, or living in the same house? Are not all colleges closed to us? Aren’t the best and most fertile parts of the planet pre-empted by Earthlings? Are there any rights at all that Terrestrials allow us upon our own planet?”

“What you say is perfectly true, and I deplore it. But similar conditions once existed on Earth with regard to certain so-called ‘inferior races,’ and in time, all those disabilities were removed until today total equality reigns. Remember, too, that the intelligent people of Earth are on your side. Have I, for instance, ever displayed any prejudice against a Venusian?”

“No, Karl, you know you haven’t. But how many intelligent men are there? On Earth, it took long and weary millennia, filled with war and suffering, before equality was established. What if Venus refuses to wait those millennia?”

Karl frowned, “You’re right, of course, but you must wait What else can you do?”

“I don’t know-I don’t know,” Antil’s voice trailed into silence.

Suddenly, Karl wished he hadn’t started on this trip to the ruins of mysterious Ash-taz-zor . The maddeningly monotonous terrain, the just grievances of Antil had served to depress him greatly. He was about to call the whole thing on when the Venusian raised his webbed fingers to point out a mound of earth ahead.

“That’s the entrance,” he said; “ Ash-taz-zor has been buried under the soil for uncounted thousands of years, and only Venusians know of it. You’re the first Earthman ever to see it.”

“I shall keep it absolutely secret, Antil. I have promised.”

“Come, then.”

Antil brushed aside the lush vegetation to reveal a narrow entrance between two boulders and beckoned to Karl to follow. Into a narrow, damp corridor they crept. Antil drew from his pouch a small Atomite lamp, which cast its pearly white glow upon walls of dripping stone.

”These corridors and burrows,” he said, “were dug three centuries ago by our ancestors who considered the city a holy place. Of late, however, we have neglected it. I was the first to visit it in a long, long time. Perhaps that is another sign of our degeneracy.”

For over a hundred yards they walked on straight ahead; then the corridors flared out into a lofty dome. Karl gasped at the view before him. There were the remains of buildings, architectural marvels unrivalled on Earth since the days of Periclean Athens. But all lay in shattered ruins, so that only a hint of the city’s magnificence remained.

Antil led the way across the open space and plunged into another burrow that twisted its way for half a mile through soil and rock. Here and there, side-corridors branched off, and once or twice Karl caught glimpses of ruined structures. He would have investigated had not Antil kept him on the path.

Again they emerged, this time before a low, sprawling building constructed of a smooth, green stone. Its right wing was utterly smashed, but the rest seemed scarcely touched.

The Venusian’s eyes shone; his slight form straightened with pride. “This is what corresponds to a modern museum of arts and sciences. In this you shall see the past greatness and culture of Venus.”

With high excitement, Karl entered-the first Earthman ever to see these ancient achievements. The interior, he found, was divided into a series of deep alcoves, branching out from the long central colonnade. The ceiling was one great painting that showed dimly in the light of the Atomite lamp.

Lost in wonder, the Earthman wandered through the alcoves. There was an extraordinary sense of strangeness to the sculptures and paintings about him, an unearthliness that doubled their beauty.

Karl realized that he missed something vital in Venusian art simply because of the lack of common ground between his own culture and theirs, but he could appreciate the technical excellence of the work. Especially, did he admire the colour-work of the paintings which went far beyond anything he had ever seen on Earth. Cracked, faded, and scaling though they were, there was a blending and a harmony about them that was superb.

“What wouldn’t Michelangelo have given,” he said to Antil, “to have the marvellous colour perception of the Venusian eye.”

Antil inflated his chest with happiness. “Every race has its own attributes. I have often wished my ears could distinguish the slight tones and pitches of sound the way it is said Earthmen can. Perhaps I would then be able to understand what it is that is so pleasing about your Terrestrial music. As it is, its noise is dreadfully monotonous to me.”

They passed on, and every minute Karl’s opinion of Venusian culture mounted higher. There were long, narrow strips of thin metal, bound together, covered with the lines and ovals of Venusian script-thousands upon thousands of them. In them, Karl knew, might lie such secrets as the scientists of Earth would give half their lives to know.

Then, when Antil pointed out a tiny, six-inch-high affair, and said that, according to the inscription, it was some type of atomic converter with an efficiency several times any of the current Terrestrial models, Karl exploded.

“Why don’t you reveal these secrets to Earth? If they only knew your accomplishments in ages past, Venusians would occupy a far higher place than they do now.”

“They would make use of our knowledge of former days, yes,” Antil replied bitterly, “but they would never release their stranglehold on Venus and its people. I hope you are not forgetting your promise of absolute secrecy.”

“No, I’ll keep quiet, but I think you’re making a mistake.”

“I think not,” Antil turned to leave the alcove, but Karl called to him to wait.

“Aren’t we going into this little room here?” he asked.