"All these languages will make use of semantic assistance. To the military segment, a 'successful man' will be synonymous with 'winner of a fierce contest.' To the industrialists, it will mean `efficient fabricator.' To the traders, it equates with 'a person irresistibly persuasive.' Such influences will pervade each of the languages. Naturally they will not act with equal force upon each individual, but the mass action must be decisive."
"Marvelous!" cried Bustamonte, completely won over. "This is human engineering indeed!"
Palafox went to the window and looked across Wind River. He was faintly smiling and his black eyes, usually so black and hard, were softly unfocused. For a moment his real age--twice Bustamonte's and more--was apparent; but only for a moment, and when he swung about, his face was as emotionless as ever.
"You understand that I merely talk at random--I formulate ideas, so to speak. Truly massive planning must be accomplished: the various languages must be synthesized, their vocabularies formulated. Instructors to teach the languages must be recruited. I can rely on my own sons. Another group must be organized, or perhaps derived from the first group: an elite corps of coordinators trained to fluency in each of the languages. This corps will ultimately become a managerial corporation, to assist your present civil service."
Bustamonte blew out his cheeks. "Well...possibly. So far-reaching a function for this group seems unnecessary. Enough that we create a military force to smite Eban Buzbek and his bandits!"
Bustamonte jumped to his feet, marched back and forth in excitement. He stopped short, looked slyly toward Palafox. "One further point we must discuss: what will be the fee for your services?"
"Six brood of women a month," said Palafox calmly, "of optimum intelligence and physique, between the ages of fourteen and twenty-four years, their time of indenture not to exceed fifteen years, their transportation back to Pao guaranteed, together with all substandard and female offspring."
Bustamonte, with a knowing smile, shook his head. "Six brood--is this not excessive?"
Palafox darted him a burning glance. Bustamonte, aware of his mistake, added hastily, "However, I will agree to this figure. In return you must return me my beloved nephew, Beran, so that he may make preparation for a useful career."
"As a visitor to the floor of the sea?"
"We must take account of realities," murmured Bustamonte.
"I agree," said Palafox in a flat voice. "They dictate that Beran Panasper, Panarch of Pao, complete his education on Breakness."
Bustamonte broke out into furious protest; Palafox responded tartly. Palafox remained contemptuously calm, and Bustamonte at last acceded to his terms.
The bargain was recorded upon film and the two parted, if not amicably, at least in common accord.
CHAPTER X
WINTER ON Breakness was a time of chill, of thin clouds flying down Wind River, of hail fine as sand hissing along the rock. The sun careened only briefly above the vast rock slab to the south, and for most of the day Breakness Institute was shrouded in murk.
Five times the dismal season came and passed, and Beran Panasper acquired a basic Breakness education.
The first two years Beran lived in the house of Palafox, and much of his energy was given to learning the language. His natural preconceptions regarding the function of speech were useless, for the language of Breakness was different from Paonese in many significant respects. Paonese was of that type known as "polysynthetic," with root words taking on prefixes, affixes and postpositions to extend their meaning. The language of Breakness was basically "isolative," but unique in that it derived entirely from the speaker: that is to say, the speaker was the frame of reference upon which the syntax depended, a system which made for both logical elegance and simplicity. Since Self was the implicit basis of expression, the pronoun "I" was unnecessary. Other personal pronouns were likewise non-existent, except for third person constructions--although these actually were contractions of noun phrases.
The language included no negativity; instead there were numerous polarities such as "go" and "stay." There was no passive voice--every verbal idea was self-contained: "to strike," "to receive-impact." The language was rich in words for intellectual manipulation, but almost totally deficient in descriptives of various emotional states. Even if a Breakness dominie chose to break his solipsistic shell and reveal his mood, he would be forced to the use of clumsy circumlocution.
Such common Paonese concepts as "anger," "joy," "love," "grief," were absent from the Breakness vocabulary. On the other hand, there were words to define a hundred different types of ratiocination, subtleties unknown to the Paonese--distinctions which baffled Beran so completely that at times his entire stasis, the solidity of his ego, seemed threatened. Week after week Fanchiel explained, illustrated, paraphrased; little by little Beran assimilated the unfamiliar mode of thought--and, simultaneously, the Breakness approach to existence.
Then...one day Palafox summoned him and remarked that Beran's knowledge of the language was adequate for study at the Institute; that he would immediately be enrolled for the basic regimen.
Beran felt hollow and forlorn. The house of Palafox had provided a certain melancholy security; what would he find at the Institute?
Palafox dismissed him, and half an hour later Fanchiel escorted him to the great rock-melt quadrangle, saw him enrolled and installed in a cubicle at the student dormitory. He then departed, and Beran henceforth saw nothing either of Fanchiel or of Palafox.
So began a new phase of Beran's existence on Breakness. All his previous education had been conducted by tutors; he had participated in none of the vast Paonese recitatives, wherein thousands of children chanted in unison all their learning--the youngest piping the numbers "Ai! Shrai! Vida! Mina! Nona! Drona! Hivan! Imple!"; the oldest the epic drones with which Paonese erudition concerned itself. For this reason Beran was not as puzzled by the customs of the Institution as he might have been.
Each youth was recognized as an individual, as singular and remote as a star in space. He lived by himself, shared no officially recognized phase of his existence with any other student. When spontaneous conversations occurred, the object was to bring an original viewpoint, or novel sidelight, to the discussion at hand. The more unorthodox the idea, the more certain that it would at once be attacked. He who presented it must then defend his idea to the limits of logic, but not beyond. If successful, he gained prestige; if routed, he was accordingly diminished.
Another subject enjoyed a furtive currency among the students: the subject of age and death. The topic was more or less taboo--especially in the presence of a dominie--for no one died of disease or corporeal degeneration on Breakness. The dominies ranged the universe; a certain number met violent ends in spite of their built-in weapons and defenses. The greater number, however, passed their years on Breakness, unchanging except for perhaps a slight gauntness and angularity of the bone structure. And then, inexorably the dominie would approach his Emeritus status: he would become less precise, more emotional; egocentricity would begin to triumph over the essential social accommodations; there would be outbursts of petulance, wrath, and a final megalomania--and then the Emeritus would disappear.
Beran, shy and lacking fluency, at first held aloof from the discussions. As he acquired facility with the language, he began to join the discussions, and after a period of polemic trouncings, found himself capable of fair success. These experiences provided him the first glow of pleasure he had known on Breakness.