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Updated: June 18, 2025
We may not live to learn this language, but we'll make a start, and some day somebody will." Sachiko took her hands from her eyes, being careful not to look toward the unshaded light, and smiled again. This time Martha was sure that it was not the Japanese smile of politeness, but the universally human smile of friendship. "I hope so, Martha: really I do.
Tony, I want you to do the voice for it running commentary, interpretation of each scene as it's shown. Would you do that?" Would he do that! Martha thought. If he had a tail, he'd be wagging it at the very thought. "Well, there ought to be more murals on the other floors," she said. "Who wants to come downstairs with us?" Sachiko did; immediately. Ivan Fitzgerald volunteered.
Sachiko took off the loup and leaned back in her chair, her palms cupped over her eyes. "No, I like doing this. I call it micro-jigsaw puzzles. This book, here, really is a mess. Selim found it lying open, with some heavy stuff on top of it; the pages were simply crushed." She hesitated briefly. "If only it would mean something, after I did it." There could be a faintly critical overtone to that.
"Alone, I suppose that hulva means something like science or knowledge, or study; combined, it would be equivalent to our 'ology. And darf would mean something like past, or old times, or human events, or chronicles." "That gives you three words, Martha!" Sachiko jubilated. "You did it." "Let's don't go too fast," Lattimer said, for once not derisively.
Down here, where wind and dust could not reach, evaporation had been the only force of destruction after the minute life that caused putrefaction had vanished. They found refrigeration rooms, too, and using Martha's ice axe and the pistollike vibratool Sachiko carried on her belt, they pounded and pried one open, to find dessicated piles of what had been vegetables, and leathery chunks of meat.
Sometimes Sachiko dropped in; most of the time she was busy helping Ivan Fitzgerald dissect specimens.
As she replied, Martha realized that she was being defensive. "It will, some day. Look how long it took to read Egyptian hieroglyphics, even after they had the Rosetta Stone." Sachiko smiled. "Yes. I know. But they did have the Rosetta Stone." "And we don't. There is no Rosetta Stone, not anywhere on Mars.
This must be the main stacks of the university library the entire literature of the vanished race of Mars. In the center, down an aisle between the cases, she could see the hollow square of the librarians' desk, and stairs and a dumb-waiter to the floor above. She realized that she was walking forward, with the others, toward this. Sachiko was saying: "I'm the lightest; let me go first."
The word had turned up several times before. She found herself puffing furiously on her cigarette as she leafed through notebooks and piles of already examined material. Sachiko was speaking to somebody, and a chair scraped at the end of the table.
They had found hundreds of pictures with captions; they had never been able to establish a positive relationship between any pictured object and any printed word. Neither of them said anything more, and after a moment Sachiko replaced the loup and bent her head forward over the book. Selim von Ohlmhorst looked up from his notebook, taking his pipe out of his mouth.
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