is common to all the different ustuzou species I have observed. Their life cycles appear to be different from ours in every way."
"Then do you appreciate the import of your observations? If they do have a language of their own they can't possibly learn it in the same way that we learn ours."
Stallan signed agreement. "I appreciate that now, and thank you for the explanation. But does that not raise a most important question? If they have a language—how do they learn to speak it?"
That is indeed the most important question, and I must attempt to find the answer to it. But I can tell you truthfully now that I have not the slightest idea."
Enge looked at the wild creatures, their faces sticky with the juice of the fruit they had eaten; they stared back at her. How could she possibly find a way to communicate with them?
"Leave me now, Stallan. The male is securely bound, the female shows no signs of violence. If I am alone they will have only me to watch without their attention being distracted."
Stallan considered this for a long moment before signing reluctant agreement. "It shall be as you request.
I agree that the danger is not great now. But I shall remain just outside the door which will be slightly open and unlocked. You must call to me if they threaten you in any way."
"I will. You have my promise. Now my work must begin."
West of Eden - Harry Harrison
CHAPTER TEN
There was much work to be done in establishing this new city. Much extra work needed to put right the errors perpetrated by the former Eistaa, the justifiably dead Deeste, and with all this Vaintè found her days filled from first light to the coming of dark. As she sank into sleep she sometimes envied the nocturnal boats and other creatures that moved by night. If she could remain awake, just for a short time longer each day, so much more could be accomplished. It was an unnatural idea, but was still the last thing that occupied her thoughts many nights before she slept. These thoughts, of course, did not interfere with her sleep, because disturbed sleep was a physical impossibility for the Yilanè. When she closed her eyes, she slept—a motionless sleep that, to an outsider, had a disturbing resemblance to death. Yet this sleep was so light that it was easily broken by something unusual. Many times during the dark hours of the night, animal cries would lift Vaintè gently awake. Her eyes would open and she would listen for a moment. Hearing nothing more her eyes would close and she would be asleep again.
Only the gray light of dawn woke her completely. This morning—as all other mornings—she stepped from the warm bed to the floor, then prodded the bed with her toe. As it stirred she turned to the place where one of the countless trunks and stems of the living city bulged out into a gourd-like growth filled with water. Vaintè placed her lips over its orifice and sucked in sweetened water until she had drunk her fill. Behind her the bed quivered with slow spasms as it curled itself into a long bundle against the wall; its body cooled as it sank into a comatose state until it was needed again.
It had rained during the night and the dampness of the woven floor was uncomfortably cool on the soles of Vaintè's feet as she crossed an open area. After that she stayed under shelter as she made her way to the ambesed, fargi after fargi assembling in the train behind her as she went.
Each morning, before the work began, the project leaders, like all of the other citizens of the city, would be sure to pass through the ambesed. There they would stop for awhile and talk to one another. This large, open area in the heart of the city was the hub around which all of its varied activities revolved. Vaintè went to her favored spot on the west side where the rising sun struck first, deep in thought and unaware of the citizens who moved aside to let her pass. She was the Eistaa, the one who always walked in a straight line. The bark of the tree was already
"Then do you appreciate the import of your observations? If they do have a language of their own they can't possibly learn it in the same way that we learn ours."
Stallan signed agreement. "I appreciate that now, and thank you for the explanation. But does that not raise a most important question? If they have a language—how do they learn to speak it?"
That is indeed the most important question, and I must attempt to find the answer to it. But I can tell you truthfully now that I have not the slightest idea."
Enge looked at the wild creatures, their faces sticky with the juice of the fruit they had eaten; they stared back at her. How could she possibly find a way to communicate with them?
"Leave me now, Stallan. The male is securely bound, the female shows no signs of violence. If I am alone they will have only me to watch without their attention being distracted."
Stallan considered this for a long moment before signing reluctant agreement. "It shall be as you request.
I agree that the danger is not great now. But I shall remain just outside the door which will be slightly open and unlocked. You must call to me if they threaten you in any way."
"I will. You have my promise. Now my work must begin."
West of Eden - Harry Harrison
CHAPTER TEN
There was much work to be done in establishing this new city. Much extra work needed to put right the errors perpetrated by the former Eistaa, the justifiably dead Deeste, and with all this Vaintè found her days filled from first light to the coming of dark. As she sank into sleep she sometimes envied the nocturnal boats and other creatures that moved by night. If she could remain awake, just for a short time longer each day, so much more could be accomplished. It was an unnatural idea, but was still the last thing that occupied her thoughts many nights before she slept. These thoughts, of course, did not interfere with her sleep, because disturbed sleep was a physical impossibility for the Yilanè. When she closed her eyes, she slept—a motionless sleep that, to an outsider, had a disturbing resemblance to death. Yet this sleep was so light that it was easily broken by something unusual. Many times during the dark hours of the night, animal cries would lift Vaintè gently awake. Her eyes would open and she would listen for a moment. Hearing nothing more her eyes would close and she would be asleep again.
Only the gray light of dawn woke her completely. This morning—as all other mornings—she stepped from the warm bed to the floor, then prodded the bed with her toe. As it stirred she turned to the place where one of the countless trunks and stems of the living city bulged out into a gourd-like growth filled with water. Vaintè placed her lips over its orifice and sucked in sweetened water until she had drunk her fill. Behind her the bed quivered with slow spasms as it curled itself into a long bundle against the wall; its body cooled as it sank into a comatose state until it was needed again.
It had rained during the night and the dampness of the woven floor was uncomfortably cool on the soles of Vaintè's feet as she crossed an open area. After that she stayed under shelter as she made her way to the ambesed, fargi after fargi assembling in the train behind her as she went.
Each morning, before the work began, the project leaders, like all of the other citizens of the city, would be sure to pass through the ambesed. There they would stop for awhile and talk to one another. This large, open area in the heart of the city was the hub around which all of its varied activities revolved. Vaintè went to her favored spot on the west side where the rising sun struck first, deep in thought and unaware of the citizens who moved aside to let her pass. She was the Eistaa, the one who always walked in a straight line. The bark of the tree was already
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