uplift4.brightnessreef-第79章

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ame　to　mind。
　　〃The　structure　of　those　early　tongues　could　have　risen　out　of　selective　pressure；　operating　over　generations。　Primitive　people　need　rigid　grammars；　because　they　lack　writing　or　other　means　to　correct　error　and　linguistic　drift。〃
　　〃Ah　yes。　Your　analogy　to　the　game　of　Telephone；　in　which　the　language　with　the　highest　level　of　shaman　coding…〃
　　〃That's　Shannon　coding。　Claude　Shannon　showed　that　any　message　can　carry　within　itself　the　means　to　correct　errors　that　creep　in　during　transit。　In　a　spoken　language；　this　redundancy　often　es　embedded　in　grammatical　rules…the　cases；　declensions；　modifiers；　and　such。　It's　all　quite　basic　information　theory。〃
　　〃Ffm。　Maybe　for　you。　I　confess　that　I　failed　to　follow　your　mathematics。〃　Dedinger　chuckled　dryly。　〃But　let's　assume　you're　right　about　that。　Does　not　such　clever；　self…correcting　structure　prove　those　early　human　languages　were　shrewdly　designed？〃
　　〃Not　at　all。　The　same　argument　was　raised　against　biological　evolution…and　later　against　the　notion　of　self…bootstrapped　intelligence。　Some　folks　have　a　hard　time　accepting　that　plexity　can　emerge　out　of　Darwinian　selection；　but　it　does。〃
　　〃So　you　believe…〃
　　〃That　the　same　thing　happened　to　preliterate　languages　on　Earth。　Cultures　with　stronger　grammars　could　hang　together　over　greater　distances　and　times。　According　to　some　of　the　old…timer　linguists；　Indo…European　may　have　ranged　all　the　way　from　Europe　to　Central　Asia。　Its　rigid　perfection　maintained　culture　and　trade　links　over　distances　far　beyond　what　any　person　might　traverse　in　a　lifetime。　News；　gossip；　or　a　good　story　could　travel　slowly；　by　word　of　mouth；　all　the　way　across　a　continent；　arriving　centuries　later；　barely　changed。〃
　　〃Like　in　the　game　of　Telephone。〃
　　〃That's　the　general　idea。〃
　　Sara　found　herself　leaning　on　the　donkey　as　fatigue　prickled　her　calves　and　thighs。　Still；　it　seemed　a　toss…up…aching　muscles　if　she　stayed　afoot　versus　shivering　on　a　bruised　coccyx　if　she　remounted。　For　the　little　donkey's　sake；　she　chose　to　keep　walking。
　　Dedinger　had　his　teeth　in　the　argument。
　　〃If　all　you　say　is　true；　how　can　you　deny　those　early　grammars　were　superior　to　the　shabby；　disorganized　dialects　that　followed？〃
　　〃What　do　you　mean；　'superior'？　Whether　you're　talking　about　proto…Indo…European；　proto…Bantu　or　proto…Semitic；　each　language　served　the　needs　of　a　conservative；　largely　changeless　culture　of　nomads　and　herders；　for　hundreds　or　thousands　of　years。　But　those　needs　shifted　when　our　ancestors　acquired　agriculture；　metals；　and　writing。　Progress　changed　the　very　notion　of　what　language　was　for。〃
　　An　expression　of　earnest　confusion　briefly　softened　the　man's　etched　features。
　　〃Pray；　what　could　language　be　for；　if　not　to　maintain　a　culture's　cohesion　and　foster　munication？〃
　　That　was　the　question　posed　by　members　of　Dedinger's　former　department；　who　spurned　Sara's　theory　at　its　first　hearing；　embarrassing　her　in　front　of　Sages　Bonner；　Taine；　and　Purofsky。　Had　not　the　majestic　civilization　of　the　Five　Galaxies　been　refining　its　twenty　or　so　standard　codes　since　the　days　of　the　fabled　Progenitors；　with　a　single　goal…to　promote　clear　exchange　of　meaning　among　myriad　citizen　races？
　　〃There　is　another　desirable　thing；〃　Sara　replied。　〃Another　product　of　language；　just　as　important；　in　the　long　run；　as　cohesion。〃
　　〃And　that　is？〃
　　〃Creativity。　If　I'm　right；　it　calls　for　a　different　kind　of　grammar。　A　pletely　different　way　of　looking　at　error。〃
　　〃One　that　weles　error。　Embraces　it。〃　Dedinger　nodded。　〃This　part　of　your　paper　I　had　trouble　following。　You　say　Anglic　is　better　because　it　lacks　redundancy　coding。　Because　errors　and　ambiguity　creep　into　every　phrase　or　paragraph。　But　how　can　chaos　engender　inventiveness？〃
　　〃By　shattering　preconceptions。　By　allowing　illogical；　preposterous；　even　obviously　wrong　statements　to　parse　in　reasonable…sounding　expressions。　Like　the　paradox…'This　sentence　is　a　lie'…which　can't　be　spoken　grammatically　in　any　formal　Galactic　tongue。　By　putting　manifest　contradictions　on　an　equal　footing　with　the　most　time…honored　and　widely　held　assumptions；　we　are　tantalized；　confused。　Our　thoughts　stumble　out　of　step。〃
　　〃This　is　good？〃
　　〃It's　how　creativity　works；　especially　in　humans。　For　every　good　idea；　ten　thousand　idiotic　ones　must　first　be　posed；　sifted；　tried　out；　and　discarded。　A　mind　that's　afraid　to　toy　with　the　ridiculous　will　never　e　up　with　the　brilliantly　original…some　absurd　concept　that　future　generations　will　assume　to　have　been　'obvious'　all　along。
　　〃One　result　has　been　a　profusion　of　new　words…a　vocabulary　vastly　greater　than　ancient　languages。　Words　for　new　things；　new　ideas；　new　ways　of　paring　and　reasoning。〃
　　Dedinger　muttered；　〃And　new　disasters。　New　misunderstandings。〃
　　Sara　nodded；　conceding　the　point。
　　〃It's　a　dangerous　process。　Earth's　bloody　past　shows　how　imagination　and　belief　turn　into　curses　unless　they're　acpanied　by　critical　judgment。　Writing；　logic；　and　experimentation　help　replace　some　of　the　error…correction　that　used　to　e　embedded　in　grammar。　Above　all；　mature　people　must　consider　that　most　unpleasant　of　all　possibilities…that　their　own　favorite　doctrines　might　prove　wrong。〃
　　She　watched　Dedinger。　Would　the　man　catch　on　that　she　had　aimed　that　barb　at　him？
　　The　exiled　pedagogue　gave　Sara　a　wry　smile。
　　〃Has　it　occurred　to　you；　Miss　Sara；　that　your　last　statement　could　apply　to　you　and　your　own　beloved　hypothesis？〃
　　Now　it　was　Sara's　turn　to　wince；　then　laugh　aloud。
　　〃Human　nature。　Each　of　us　thinks　we　know　what　we're　talking　about　and　those　disagreeing　are　fools。　Creative　people　see　Prometheus　in　a　mirror；　never　Pandora。〃
　　Dedinger　spoke　with　an　ironic　edge。　〃Sometimes　the　torch　I　carry　scorches　my　fingers。〃
　　Sara　could　not　tell　how　much　he　meant　the　remark　in　jest。　Often　she　found　it　easier　to　read　the　feelings　of　a　boon；　or　g'Kek；　than　some　members　of　her　own　enigmatic　race。　Still；　she　found　herself　enjoying　the　conversation；　the　first　of　its　kind　in　quite　some　time。
　　〃As　for　trends　here　on　Jijo；　just　look　at　the　new　rhythmic　novels　being　published　by　some　of　the　northern　urrish　tribes。　Or　the　recent　burst　of　hoonish　romantic　poetry。　Or　the　GalTwo　haiku　imagery　ing　out　of　the　Vale…〃
　　A　sharp　whistle　cut　her　short…a　guttural　stop…mand　piped　by　UrKachu's　upstretched　throat。　The　queue　of　tired　animals　jostled　to　a　halt；　as　the　Urunthai　leader　pointed　north　of　a　stone　spire；　decreeing　that　a　camouflaged　shelter　be　raised　in　its　long；　tapered　shadow。
　　In　its　shadow。。。
　　Blinking；　Sara　looked　around　to　see　that　the　night　was　over。　Dawn…light　filtered　over　the　peaks；　sifting　through　an　early…morning　haze。　They　had　climbed　among　the　mountains；　or　at　least　the　rocky　foothills；　leaving　behind　the　parched　Warril　Plain。　Alas；　they　were　by　now　far　south　of　the　well…worn　trail　leading　to　the　Glade　of　Gathering。
　　Dedinger's　courtliness　clashed　with　his　rough　appearance；　as　he　excused　himself　to　organize　his　men。　〃I've　enjoyed　matching　wits；〃　he　told　her　with　a　bow。　〃Perhaps　we　can　resume　later。〃
　　〃Perhaps。〃
　　Although　the　discussion　had　been　a　pleasant　diversion；　she　had　no　doubt　the　man　would　sacrifice　her；　along　with　all　of　her　ideas；　on　the　altar　of　his　faith。　Sara　vowed　to　be　ready　for　any　occasion　to　sneak　her　friends　away　from　these　fanatics。
　　Right。　An　old　man；　a　boy；　a　chimpanzee；　a　wounded　alien；　and　an　out…of…shape　intellectual…even　if　we　got　a　huge　head　start；　these　urs　and　desert…men　would　catch　us　faster　than　you　can　transform　a　sine　wave。
　　Still；　she　gazed　north　toward　high　peaks　where　momentous　events　were　taking　place　in　hidden　valleys；　and　thought…We'd　better　move　fast；　or　else　Ifni；　God；　and　the　universe　will　surely　move　on　without　us。
　　
　　Asx
　　NOW　ES　OUR　TURN　TO　THREATEN。　Proctors　fight　to　hold　back　a　furious　throng；　hemming　our　erstwhile　guests　inside　a　circle　of　rage。　The　remaining　alien…lovers；　mostly　humans；　form　a　protective　ring　around　the　star…beings；　while　the　twin　robots　swoop　and　dive；　enforcing　a　buffer　zone　with　bolts　of　stinging　lightning。
　　Lester　Cambel　steps　forward；　raising　both　hands　for　calm。　The　raucous　noise　ebbs；　as　members　of　the　mob　ease　their　pressure　on　the　harried　proctors。　Soon　silence　reigns。　No　one　wants　to　miss　the　next　move　in　this　game；　wherein　all　of　us　on　Jijo　are　tokens　being　gambled；　to　be　won　or　lost；　counting　on　our　skill　and　luck。
　　Lester　bows　to　the　Rothen　emissary。　In　one　hand　he　bears　a　stack　of　metal　plates。
　　〃Now　let's　drop　all　pretense；〃　he　tells　the　star…god。　〃We　know　you　for　what　you　are。　Nor　can　you　trick　us　into　genocidal　suicide；　doing　your　dirty　work。
　　〃Furthermore；　should　you　try　to　do　the　job　yourselves；　annihilating　all　witnesses　to　your　illegal　visit；　you　will　fail。　All　you'll　acplish　is　to　increase　your　list　of　crimes。
　　〃We　remend　that　you　be　satisfied。　Take　what　you　will　from　this　world；　and　go。〃
　　The　male　star…human　bursts　forth；　outraged。　〃How　dare　you　speak　so　to　a　patron　of　your　race！〃　Rann　chastises；　red…faced。　〃Apologize　for　your　insolence！〃
　　But　Lester　ignores　Rann；　whose　status　has　diminished　in　the　eyes　of　the　Six。　A　toady/servant　does　not　dictate　to　a　sage；　no　matter　what　godlike　powers　he　wields。
　　Instead；　our　human　envoy　offers　one　of　the　metal　plates　to　Ro…kenn。
　　〃We　are　not　proud　of　this　art　form。　It　uses　materials　that　won't　age　or　degrade　back　into　Mother　Jijo's　soil。　Rather；　it　is　adamant。　Resistant　to　time。　Properly　stored；　its　images　will　last　until　this　world　again　teems　with　legal　sapient　life。
　　〃Normally；　we　would　send　such　dross　to　where　Jijo　can　recycle　it　in　fire。　But　in　this　case；　we'll　make　an　exception。〃
　　The　Rothen　emissary　turns　the　plate　in　the　morning　light。　Unlike　a　paper　photograph；　this　kind　of　image　is　best　viewed　from　certain　angles；　we/i　know　what　it　depicts；　do　we　not；　my　rings？　The　plate　shows　Ro…kenn　and　his　rades　just　before　that　ill…starred　pilgrimage…a　journey　whose　horrors　still　drip　vexingly　down　our　waxy　core。　Bloor　the　Portraitist　developed　the　picture　to　serve　as　an　instrument　of　blackmail。
　　〃Other　images　depict　your　party　in　various　poses；　performing　surveys；　testing　candidate　species；　often　with　backgrounds　that　clearly　portray　this　place；　this　world。　The　shape　of　glaciers　and　eroding　cliffs　will　set　the　date　within　a　hundred　years。　Perhaps　less。〃
　　The　rewq　covering　our/my　torus…of…vision　reveals　ripples　crisscrossing　Ro…kenn's　face；　again　a　dissonance　of　clashing　emotions…but　which　ones？　Are　we　getting　better　at　reading　this　alien　life…form？　The　second　of　our　cognition　rings　seems　deeply　curious　about　the　clashing　colors。
　　The　Rothen　holds　out　an　elegant　hand。
　　〃May　I　see　the　others？〃
　　Lester　hands　them　over。　〃This　is　but　a　sampling。　Naturally；　a　detailed　record　of　our　encounter　with　your　ship　and　crew　has　also　been　etched　on　durable　metal；　to　acpany　these　pictures　into　hiding。〃
　　〃Naturally；〃　Ro…kenn　answers　smoothly；　perusing　one　plate　after　another；　turning　them　in　the　sunshine。　〃You　have　retained　unusual　arts；　for　self…accursed　sooners。　Indeed；　I　have　never　seen　the　like；　even　in　civilized　space。〃
　　This　flattery　draws　some　murmurs　from　the　crowd。　Ro…kenn　is　once　more　being　charm