Talker knew that he needed further data; in an attempt to obtain it he simply reached forward to a bare spot of earth and scratched with his odd “hand” the line pattern he had last seen in the human mind. Like Kirk’s speaking, it was purely an experiment.
To the man, it was a miracle. He spoke; and the grotesque thing before him wrote — crudely and clumsily, to be sure, for Talker’s interpretation was still imperfect, and he was, to put it mildly, unpracticed in the art of penmanship — the last few words that the man had uttered. Kirk was momentarily dumfounded, unable for an instant to think coherently; then he jumped to a natural, but erroneous, conclusion. The stranger, he decided, must lack vocal cords, but had learned written English from someone else. That implied previous friendly relationships with a human being, and for the first time Kirk felt fully at ease in the presence of the strange creatures.
He drew his knife, and with the tip scratched, “Who are you?” on the ground beside Talker’s line.
The meaning of the question lay in his mind; but it was couched in terms far too abstract for Talker to connect directly with the marks. A problem roughly similar would be faced by a three-year-old child, not yet literate, presented with a brick covered with cuneiform writing and told that it meant something. Talker saw the same letters in the man’s brain, but they were as utterly meaningless there as on the ground. The conference seemed to have reached an impasse.
In spite of his relatively deepset eyes, which should, in Talker’s opinion, have limited his range of vision to what lay before him, Kirk was the first to see Boss move. He turned his head to see more clearly, and Talker followed his gaze with one eye. Boss had awakened, and was standing as high as his legs would lift him in an effort to see the marks on the ground — the top of the bank was about on the same level as the air-lock floor. He saw the attention of the other two directed his way, and spoke to Talker.
“What is that? Have you got in touch with him? I can’t see what you have on the ground there.”
Talker turned his antennae toward the air lock, not that it was necessary, but to assure the human being that Boss was being included in the conversation. “Come on over,” he said resignedly,
“though it won’t do you much good to see. Don’t fly too close to the native, and don’t get nearer to him than I do at any time.”
Kirk watched Boss spread his wings and launch himself toward Talker. The pinions moved too fast to be visible; it occurred to Kirk that these creatures were heavier than any Earthly bird, except for flightless forms like the ostrich, yet their wings spanned less than eight feet.
Boss took a single glance at the letters on the ground, and turned his attention to the Earthman.
This was the first time he had seen him in full daylight, and he made the most of the opportunity, mercifully remaining silent the while. Talker promptly forgot him, as nearly as such an individual can be forgotten, and brought himself back to the matter in hand.
The “natural” method of learning a language consists of pointing out objects and having their names repeated until one can remember them. This is the first method that suggests itself to a human being, if no printed grammar is available. Talker hit upon it only after long and profound cogitation, when he suddenly realized that he had learned to interpret the human visual impressions in just that fashion — placing the subject in contact with simple objects, and examining the resulting mental radiations. He tried it.
Normally, the teacher of a language, whatever method he uses, knows what is being done. Kirk did not, for some time. Talker pointed at the ship with one of his hands, watching the man’s mind intently for a series of marks such as had accompanied the sounds from his mouth. Kirk looked in the indicated direction, and then back at Talker. The latter pointed again; and a distinct picture, such as he had been seeking, appeared for an instant in the man’s mind, to be replaced almost at once by an indecipherable complex of abstract thoughts.
Talker scratched the first impression on the ground — a perfectly recognizable word, “Ship,” and looked up again. The man had disappeared. For an instant Talker was confused; then he heard various sounds from the gully, and crawled to the edge to look over. Kirk was below, raising his pole, which had been lying where he had left it, to the sill of the air lock. Still believing that Talker was able to write English, he had completely misinterpreted the gestures and writing, and supposed he was being requested to enter the craft.
Talker had a feeling of helplessness, in the face of his troubles; then he pulled himself together, forcing himself to remember that his life, and the other lives on the ship, depended on his efforts.
At least, he now knew that the marks had a definite meaning, and he had learned the symbol for “ship.” It was, he tried to convince himself, a fair beginning.
The man was crouching in the lock entrance — it was not high enough for him to stand — watching expectantly. Talker beckoned him back. If the man misunderstood his first attempt, now was the time to straighten it out. Kirk looked annoyed, though the aliens could not interpret the expression, slid down the pole, and scrambled back up the bank.
Talker tried again, pointing this time to the early afternoon Sun, and writing the word when it formed in Kirk’s mind. The Earthman looked down at the result.
“If that job were necessary, it would be hopeless, friend,” he said, “but it isn’t necessary. I can speak English, and read it, and write it, thank you. If you can’t talk, why don’t you just write out what you want me to know?”
Not a word of this was understandable to Talker; in a rather hopeless fashion, he wrote the word or two which had been pictured clearly enough for him to catch, and succeeded in exasperating Kirk still further.
The man certainly could not be accused of stupidity; it was not his fault that he failed to experience a flash of insight that would give the clue to the alien’s meaning. The great majority of people would have done no better, except, perhaps, for some lucky chance. Human experience of thought transference is limited to the claims of “psychics” and to fantastic literature, except for a few scientific experiments of doubtful value; Kirk was not addicted to the reading of any of these products of mental aberration, and made no claim to be any sort of scientist. He had begun by jumping to a conclusion, and for some time it simply did not occur to him that the conclusion might be erroneous — the evidence had been quite convincing, to him, that Talker was acquainted with the English language. It followed that the mothlike one’s intentions, motivating all this gesticulation and writing, were to teach Kirk the same tongue: an idea so exactly opposite the true state of affairs as to be almost comical.
Twice more Talker repeated his forlorn attempt to get his idea across to the other; twice Kirk repeated his expostulation, once going so far as to write it out on the ground, when it occurred to him that Talker might be deaf. The third time, the Earthling’s temper broke free of its moorings — almost. He was not accustomed to using profanity; his family, whose elder members had carefully controlled his upbringing, was almost Puritanical in that respect, and habit got control of his reactions in time to prevent his speaking aloud the words in his mind. His reaction may be imagined when, without Kirk’s having uttered a sound, except for a strangled snort, Talker extended a forelimb and scratched a perfectly legible “Damn” on the bare patch of ground.
The word “insight” provides a psychologist with material for hours of talk. Its precise meaning cannot be given without tacit assumption of understanding of its nature; neither Kirk nor the narrator possesses that understanding. It is assumed that the readers have had experience of insight, and can understand the habit of cartoonists of symbolizing its presence by an incandescent bulb — whether this habit antedates or succeeds the coining of the phrase “to see light” is a purely academic question. All that matters to us is the fact that Kirk abruptly saw the light — dimly at first, and then, though it strained his credulity to the breaking point, with something like comprehension. Why that particular incident should have served to unlock the door we cannot say: certainly Talker’s knowledge of a bit of English profanity could have had many other explanations. Insight, as we have intimated, is a rather obscure process.