Shutting off the thoughts of his various brains from any probing mind that might be eavesdropping, he said to himself, Always, always they’re near a man! You go out of your hut and there’s a god, a big golden globe hanging in the air shoving its tentacles at you and reading your mind. You come down the mine shaft and every hundred feet or so you see the yellow luminosity. Why can’t they leave us alone! Why can’t they stick to their temples, and exact their worship on Orbsday, instead of all week long, all day long, every day in the year!