The last number—Galileo’s mistake—Would it not be better?
Here is my conversation with I-330 , which took place in the Ancient House yesterday in the midst of loud noise, among colors which stifled the logical course of my thoughts, red, green, bronze, saffron-yellow, orange colors. … And all the while under the motionless marble smile of that snub-nosed ancient poet.
I shall reproduce the conversation word by word, for it seems to me that it may have an enormous and decisive importance for the fate of the United State—more than that, for the fate of the universe. Besides, reading it, you my unknown readers, may find some justification for me. I-330 , without preliminaries, at once threw everything upon my head: