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Updated: June 25, 2025
I have made no duplicata for you, because I write to you by every opportunity. Give news of me, also, to M. Margelay,~ the Abbe Fayon, and Desplaces. A thousand tender regards to my sisters; I permit them to despise me as an infamous deserter but they must also love me at the same time. My respects to Madame la Comtesse Auguste, and Madame de Fronsac.
The snooper over the village reported excitement in the plaza. Bennet Fayon had taken an airjeep to the other camp immediately after lunch. He was back by 1500, accompanied by Loughran. They carried a cloth-wrapped package into Fayon's dissecting-room. At cocktail time, Paul Meillard had to go and get them. "Sorry," Fayon said, joining the group. "Didn't notice how late it was getting.
"Then it was the effect on the animal's nervous system." Anna shrugged. "It's still Bennet's baby. I'm a psychologist, not a neurologist." "What I've been saying, all along," Fayon reiterated complacently. "Their hearing is different from ours. This proves it. "It proves that they don't hear at all." He had expected an explosion; he wasn't disappointed. They all contradicted him, many derisively.
Signal reactions. Only Paul Meillard made the semantically appropriate response: "What do you mean, Mark?" "They don't hear sound; they feel it. You all saw what they have inside their combs. Those things don't transmit sound like the ears of any sound-sensitive life-form we've ever seen. They transform sound waves into tactile sensations." Fayon cursed, slowly and luridly.
There was a difference between event-level sound, which was a series of waves of alternately crowded and rarefied molecules of air, and object-level sound, which was an auditory sensation inside the nervous system, she admitted. That, Fayon crowed, was what he'd been saying all along; their auditory system was probably such that fwoonk and pwink and tweelt and kroosh all sounded alike to them.
Things we eat might kill them," Fayon said. "Meats will be especially dangerous. And no caffein, and no alcohol." "Alcohol won't hurt them," Schallenmacher said. "I saw big jars full of fermenting fruit-mash back of some of those houses; in about a year, it ought to be fairly good wine. C H OH is the same on any planet." "Well, we'll get native foodstuffs tomorrow," Meillard said.
So did a number of the villagers, who gathered safely out of bowshot. They noticed Sonny among the Terrans and pointed at him. Sonny noticed that. He unobtrusively picked up a double-bitted ax and kept it to hand. He and Mom had lunch with the contact team. As they showed no ill effects from breakfast, Fayon decided that it was safe to let them have anything the Terrans ate or drank.
"Adieu, dear cousin; my respects, if you please, to all the family; M. de Fayon presents his to you, and I remain your obedient servant, A place in the household of a prince of royal blood. The Marshal de Noailles wished for this arrangement.
And the noise of the shots shocked them out of communication with each other; no wonder they were frightened." Bennet Fayon was far from convinced. "So far, this telepathy theory is only an assumption. I find it a lot easier to assume some fundamental difference between the way they translate sound into sense-data and the way we do.
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