 Which is least likely contributing to Xeon's request to move to the fields before the Oracle of Delni?
But I knew that where Xeon is, Melia must soon appear. Everything has evaporated in Maternite. A man my age does not hurry in the heat of the midday sun—maddugs nenglishmin go out in the midday sun, as the ancients say, although I often wonder why—but Xeon and Melia ran all the way down to the city. They were aware that they stood in the midst of an unprecedented happening; indeed, an emergency. They were created so long ago, indeed, that the ignorant believe them to have been constructed by the gods themselves. At such a time, many men feel impelled to make speeches, and one must not be disrespectful. Prayers and supplications were offered to the gods, priests were sent to sacrifice, and finally, as the light of the sun was falling between the pillars, the High Priest of the Maternite Machine was heard. By this time, unfortunately, many of the Conclave had departed for home and supper. Yet perhaps it is for the best, for those left were the most earnest and intelligent. The machines bear the exact number of children each year to balance the number of us whom the gods claim. Such it has always been from time immemorial." It is at such times that I most revere the wisdom of the ancients, who decreed seventy years the minimum age for a member of the Conclave. Such heresy could have brought a sad end to the priest had not the Conclave been so exhausted by the events of the day. Rocsates leaned forward and asked, "Must there not—must there not have been a beginning to Prelife? "Must there not, long ago, have been a source of Prelife: a source now forgotten? And may it not even now—should we discover it—be available to us? I am reminded of the story of the animals of old—" "I fear your mind is wandering, Rocsates," I was forced to interrupt. "I know well the legend of the animals, but what does it have to do—" The heads of the Conclave were turning to me, quizzically. Rocsates' voice made itself heard. "If it be so," I said, quieting the hub-bub that followed, "and I would not doubt your word, Rocsates, for all know you are the wisest of men—if it were so, then, what of it?" "May it not be," Rocsates put in, "that these animals had no machines to reproduce their kind?
 The pressure from Sias to keep the situation private
 The urge to make the event less of a spectacle  The general desire to maintain some control in the situation  The general level of comfort of lying on marble  The pressure from Sias to keep the situation private