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EYE OF AN OCTOPUS
By Larry Niven
It was a well.
Henry Bedrosian and Christopher Luden bent over the lip peering down into the jet
darkness. Their balloon-tired motorcycle lay forgotten on the talcum sand, fine pink sand
that stretched endlessly ,,away to the flat horizon, borrowing its color from the sky. The
sky was the color of blood. It might have been a flaming Kansas sunset, but the tiny sun
was still at the zenith. The translucent hewn stone of the well-mouth stood like a
blasphemy in the poisonous wilderness that was Mars.
It stood four feet above the sand, roughly circular perhaps three yards across. The
weathered stones were upright blocks, a foot tall by five inches wide by perhaps a foot
thick. Whatever the material of those stones they seemed to glow with a faintly blue
inner light.
Its so human! said Henry Bedrosian. His voice held a touch of bewildered
frustration echoed by his dark chisel-nosed face.
Chris Luden knew what he meant. Its natural. A wells like a lever or a wheel. There
arent many changes you can make because its too simple. Did you notice the shape of
the bricks?
Yes. Odd. But they could still be man made.
In this air? Breathing nitric oxide drinking red fuming nitric acid? But- Chris drew a
deep breath. Why complain? Its life, Harry! Weve discovered intelligent life!
Weve got to tell Abe.
Right.
But it was a long moment before either moved. They stood leaning over the well vivid
green pressure suits against pink sand and dark red horizon peering down into the blur
of darkness at the bottom Then they turned and mounted the Marsmobile.
The landing vehicle stood like an upright steel ballpoint pen. Its
bottom half was three spreading legs, a restarting solid rocket, and a spacious cargo hold
two-thirds empty now. The upper half was the return-to-orbit stage. Far away across
the crescent dunes was a white patch, the jettisoned drag chute.
The Marsmobile, a glorified two-seater motorcycle with big round tires and a number
of special modifica
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