Гарри Гаррисон - One Step From Earth

+These cases contain the few identifiable objects found here+

Linkica turned with a high anticipation that slowly faded and died.

+These could be — anything+ he said, pointing to the eroded lumps of metal and stone.

+I know. But should we expect more?+

+Of course not. You are correct+

Linkica looked once more at the mute age-old shapes, then out again at the dead plain. He shivered, although the room was warm and comfortable. +I feel the weight of ages here. More time than I can possibly understand has passed for this world. I see how short my own individual span of existence is and how unimportant+

+I have felt the same thing myself, here, many times. It is said that a man's mind cannot encompass the idea of its own death, but when I am here I can begin to see how a species might die. If we had not had the Door we would be here, trapped here, dead here, if this were the only world we had ever known+

+Give thanks it was not. Mankind is universal. We rule everywhere+

+But for how long? Is not one galaxy — in the fullness of time — like one planet? Will it not die? Or could we not be displaced by some other creature? Something stronger, newer, better. I must admit that this is a recurrent nightmare I have. The Doors are everywhere. Might one of them not be in the wrong spot? A planet say where this other specie waits. To subtly move among us, displace us and end our existence for all time?+

+It is possible+ Linkica agreed. +All things are possible in the fullness of eternity. But it would be a painless conquest. We would never know. Why do you point? What is it?+

+There. I wished to talk with you first before you saw this last artifact+

The lights grew brighter as they approached and the figure could be plainly seen. Painting or photograph, it lay beneath a thick, transparent coating and many details were visible despite its age.

+What is this creature?+ Linkica asked. +Very like a man, indeed. But look, it has fur upon its skull as we do not, nor does it have a nictitating membrane in its eyes. The anatomy is wrong, the joints — and look. Five fingers on each hand, ten in all — +

He stopped, struck silent by memory, and turned wide-eyed and numb toward Dehan who nodded slowly.

+This is what frightens me. The word inscribed beneath the figure is the name of a leader so great that I have found references to him in a few sources. Our sources. Ancient records. It appears then, looking at this man…+

+But we are men!+

+Are we? We call ourselves men and have mankind's cultural heritage. But is it not possible that — as we theorized earlier — that mankind could be replaced? That we have indeed replaced them?+

+Then — who are we?+ A shudder passed through him at the thought.

+We? We are mankind now. By cultural inheritance if not by blood line. But that is not what disturbs me. It is a more selfish thought+

For a long moment there was only silence in the lifeless room on a dead world.

+I think always. What thing is waiting out there, that will sometime — perhaps even now — replace us?+