Politeness

Rance Hendrix, alien psychology specialist with the third Venusian expedition, trudged wearily across the hot sands to find a Venusian and, for a fifth time, to try to make friends with one. A discouraging task, four previous failures had taught him. Experts with the previous Venusian expeditions had also failed.

Not that Venusians were hard to find but apparently they simply didn't give a damn for us or have the slightest inclination to be friendly. It seemed more than ordinarily strange that they weren^'t sociable, since they spoke our language; some telepathic ability let them understand what was said to them in any terrestrial language and to reply in kind —but unkindly.

One was coming, carrying a shovel.

"Greetings, Venusian," said Hendrix cheerfully.

"Good-by, Earthman," said the Venusian, walking on past.

Feeling both foolish and annoyed, Hendrix hurried along after him, having to run to keep pace with the Venusian^'s long strides. "Hey," he said, "why don't you talk to us?"

"I am talking to you,^" said the Venusian. ^"Little as I enjoy it. Please go away."

He stopped and began to dig for korvils^' eggs, paying no further attention.

Hendrix glared at him in frustration. Always the same pattern, no matter what Venusian they tried. Every approach in the textbooks of alien psychology had failed.

And the sand was burning hot under his feet and the air, although breathable, had a tinge of formaldehyde that hurt his lungs. He gave up, and lost his temper.

“—yourself," he shouted. A biological impossibility, of course, for an Earthman.

But Venusians are bisexual. The Venusian turned in delighted wonder; for the first time an Earthman had given him the only greeting that is considered less than horribly rude on Venus.

He returned the compliment with a wide blue smile, dropped his shovel and sat down to talk. It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship and of understanding between Earth and Venus.