Philip Dick - Meddler

When he had finished the room was silent. None of the guards or technicians spoke.

Wood stood up, trembling. “God. So it’s a form of toxic life that got them. I thought it was something like that. But butterflies? And intelligent. Planning attacks. Probably rapid breeding, quick adaptation.”

“Maybe the books and newspapers will help us.”

“But where did they come from? Mutation of some existing form? Or from some other planet. Maybe space travel brought them in. We’ve got to find out.”

“They attacked only human beings,” Hasten said. “They left the cows. Just people.”

“Maybe we can stop them.” Wood snapped on the vidphone. “I’ll have the Council convene an emergency session. We’ll give them your description and recommendations. We’ll start a program, organize . units all over the planet. Now that we know what it is, we have a chance. Thanks to you, Hasten, maybe we can stop them in time!”

The operator appeared and Wood gave the Council’s code letter. Hasten watched dully. At last he got to his feet and wandered around the room. His arm throbbed unmercifully. Presently he went back outside, through the doorway into the open square. Some soldiers were examining the Time Car curiously. Hasten watched them without feeling, his mind blank.

“What is this, sir?” one asked.

“That?” Hasten roused himself, going slowly over. “That’s a Time Car.”

“No, I mean this.” The soldier pointed to something on the hull. “This, sir; it wasn’t on there when the Car went out.”

Hasten’s heart stopped beating. He pushed past them, staring up. At first he saw nothing on the metal hull, only the corroded metal surface. Then chill fright rushed through him.

Something small and brown and furry was there, on the surface. He reached out, touching it. A sack, a stiff little brown sack. It was dry, dry and empty. There was nothing in it; it was open at one end. He stared up. All across the hull of the Car were little brown sacks, some still full, but most of them already empty.

Cocoons.

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