Authors: John Norman

The Totems of Abydos (46 page)

“I have found something I want you to see,” said Rodriguez.

Brenner put three pebbles down in the dirt, pressing them into the dust like buttons. He counted them, slowly. “One, two, three.”

“One, two, three,” said one of the Pons, crouching before him. Present, too, were two other Pons, observing closely, intently.

It was shortly before noon.

“I found it yesterday,” said Rodriguez. “I would like you to take a look at it.”

“You didn’t mention it,” said Brenner.

“We will talk on the way,” said Rodriguez.

“All right,” said Brenner.

“It is unimportant, of course,” said Rodriguez.

“What is it?” asked Brenner.

“Something,” said Rodriguez.

“I am eager to see it,” said Brenner.

“If you have time, of course,” said Rodriguez.

“In a minute,” said Brenner.

Brenner then wedged three twigs, upright, into the dust.

“Ai!” said Brenner, stung by a small stone flung from the side.

He looked up.

“Get out of here!” said Rodriguez, waving his arm angrily at a Pon, some feet off, which it presumably regarded as a safe distance. “Get away!” said Rodriguez to the small creature. It bared its tiny teeth at him. Rodriguez took one step toward the tiny creature and it spun about and rushed off, scampering about the edge of the clearing.

“You frightened him,” chided Brenner.

“If I could move that fast, and change direction that quickly,” said Rodriguez, “I would break his neck.”

“Bad Pon! Bad Pon!” one of the Pons scolded the fellow who had flung the pebble, he now turned about, again, and standing some yards off.

“That was your friend, wasn’t it?” asked Rodriguez.

It was now baring its teeth at the other Pons. It picked up a handful of dust, too, and flung it angrily, petulantly, in their direction. It was dissipated in the wind, of course.

“You still can’t tell them apart, can you?” asked Brenner.

“It was, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” said Brenner. Rodriguez was looking after the Pon. It had now hurried away, between two huts.

That Pon, and he alone, had seemed hostile toward Brenner, even from the beginning. Brenner did not understand it. As far as he knew he had done nothing to offend it. It had never bothered Rodriguez.

“It bad Pon,” explained one of the Pons to Brenner.

“No,” smiled Brenner. “It not bad Pon. All Pons good.”

“Yes,” said another Pon, its small lips moving apart, in something like a smile, seemingly odd in such a face. “All Pons good.”

“Yes,” said Brenner.

“Yes,” said the Pons present.

Brenner saw the git keeper standing nearby, watching the small group. The keeper had a small vessel of water and a tiny bucket, containing bemat seed. It would soon be time for the git, that in the small wire cage, on the table under the open-sided, roofed structure, to be fed.

“Greetings,” said Brenner.

The keeper put down his head, not meeting Brenner’s eyes, and hurried to his duties.

“They are shy creatures,” said Rodriguez.

“One, two, three,” counted Brenner, slowly, pointing to each upright twig in turn.

“One, two, three,” said the first Pon, proudly.

Brenner then put his left hand over the three pebbles.

“Three,” he said.

“Three,” said the Pons.

He then put his right hand over the twigs. “Three,” he said.

“Three,” said the Pons.

Brenner then folded his arms, and said, very distinctly, “Three.”

“Three stones?” asked the first Pon.

“Three sticks?” asked another.

“No,” said Brenner. “Just three—
three
.”

The Pons looked at Brenner, and at one another, puzzled.

“They cannot grasp the concept,” said Rodriguez.

“Look,” said Brenner. He pointed to the three stones, and said, “Three,” and then to the three twigs, and said, “Three,” and he then counted the Pons, too. “One, two, three,” he said.

The Pons looked at one another.

“They have probably never thought of themselves as objects, capable of being counted,” said Rodriguez.

“Do you think they would find it alarming, or demeaning?” asked Brenner. He had certainly not wanted to frighten or offend the Pons.

“No,” said Rodriguez. “It is merely that they may very well not have achieved that sort of perspective. Indeed, the adoption of such a perspective, an external perspective, a sort of standing outside oneself, doubtless constitutes some sort of scientific achievement. A baby presumably does not think of itself as being one baby, or even a baby, presumably.”

“Three Pons!” said the lead Pon, suddenly. “Three Pons!” It leaped up and down. It said, excitedly, “One Pon, two Pons, three Pons!”

“Good! Good!” said Brenner. “Good!” He held the Pon by the arms and shook it delightedly.

“Good!” said the Pon.

“We shall call that one “Archimedes,”” said Rodriguez.

“Do not be cynical,” said Brenner, delightedly. “It is wonderful.”

“Look,” said Rodriguez to Brenner. Then he turned to the Pons. He pointed to the three pebbles first, and then to the three twigs, and then to the three Pons. Then he did not point to any of the three groups, neither that of pebbles, nor twigs, nor Pons. “Three!” he said.

The Pons looked about, eagerly, but then, after a moment, regarded Rodriguez, perplexed.

“Do you see?” Rodriguez asked Brenner.

“Perhaps,” said Brenner.

“Experiments have demonstrated that even rodents can grasp the concept of threeness,” said Rodriguez, in disgust. “They can be taught to locate food behind a panel marked with three objects, circles, or lines, or such.”

“Pons can do that,” said Brenner. “It is only that they have not yet grasped the concept of pure number. That is an abstraction of the second order.”

“Do not grow too fond of these things,” said Rodriguez. “You do not know what they are.”

“What do you mean?”

“You do not know what they think, what goes on in their heads,” said Rodriguez.

“That is all for now,” said Brenner. He pulled up the twigs, like tiny stakes, and dropped them back on the ground. He stood up. He dusted off the knees of his trousers.

The Pons, too, stood up. They had been squatting down in front of him.

“What is it that you wanted to show me?” asked Brenner.

“You are supposed to be investigating these things,” said Rodriguez, “not teaching them mathematics.”

“They need help,” said Brenner.

“Let others help them, after our work is done, perhaps in another generation or two,” said Rodriguez. “You are here to study them, in as original, pure, and untouched a form as is possible. You want to find out how they are now, and why they are as they are, not start them being different. You may be contaminating the data. You may be jeopardizing the study.”

“We have made little enough progress,” said Brenner.

“Do not change them, or interfere with them “ said Rodriguez.

“Is that an order?” smiled Brenner.

“Yes,” said Rodriguez.

“I think they like me,” said Brenner.

“You do not know that,” said Rodriguez.

“They have probably received little enough respect, and little enough decent treatment, from members of our species,” said Brenner.

“Do not interfere with them, and do not lose your objectivity,” said Rodriguez.

“I want to win their confidence,” said Brenner.

“You could as easily win the confidence of the git,” said Rodriguez. He gestured with his head toward the git in its cage on the table, in the shelter, in the clearing. Its keeper had now finished feeding it.

“What did you want to show me?” asked Brenner.

Rodriguez looked down at the Pons. “Some pretty rocks I found to the southwest,” he said.

The Pons looked up, blinking.

“Go away,” said Rodriguez. “Go away.”

They scurried away.

“You are prepared to leave now?” asked Brenner.

“Yes,” said Rodriguez. “And you?”

“Of course,” said Brenner.

The two men then started for the gate of the palisade.

They looked back, once.

“Look,” said Rodriguez. “Surely that is your little friend.”

“Yes,” said Brenner, ruefully.

The Pon, he who had thrown the stone, he who had bared his teeth to Rodriguez, and to the other Pons, had apparently sneaked back to the place of the lesson. He was picking up the pebbles, one by one. He then flung them away, scattering them. He picked up the twigs, too, from where Brenner had left them on the ground, and flung them away, as well. He then looked up, and, seeing the eyes of Rodriguez and Brenner upon him, bared his teeth, defiantly, and then hurried away.

“Pleasant fellow,” said Rodriguez.

“He will not let me approach him, or make friends,” said Brenner.

“The recorder is missing,” said Rodriguez.

“This morning?” asked Brenner.

“Yes,” said Rodriguez.

“Last week it was a buckle and shoelaces,” said Brenner.

“The week before that the camera,” said Rodriguez.

“We transcribed the material from the recorder,” said Brenner. They had done that in case of damage to, or deterioration of, the recording. “And we never used the camera,” he added, “so we have not lost any material there.”

“They are thieving gits,” said Rodriguez.

“They are like children,” said Brenner.

“It is one thing to steal a handful of glass beads,” said Rodriguez. “It is another to make off with a thousand-credit camera.”

“To them it is only another belt buckle,” said Brenner.

“They are thieves,” said Rodriguez.

“No, they are Pons,” smiled Brenner.

“There is no one even to complain to,” said Rodriguez. “There are no mayors, no governors, no police.”

“No state,” said Brenner.

“Good for them,” growled Rodriguez.

“Unless perhaps something like a “state of nature,”” mused Brenner.

“Perhaps they can get around to the social compact, someday,” said Rodriguez.

“I have questioned several Pons about these things,” said Brenner, “but have obtained no satisfaction. I am not even sure they understand what I am talking about.”

Rodriguez grunted, angrily.

“They may not have a concept of private property,” said Brenner.

“And thus not of theft?”

“Precisely,” said Brenner.

“Even mice have such a concept,” said Rodriguez. “They are not good at sharing pieces of cheese.”

“Perhaps the Pons believe that property itself is theft,” said Brenner.

“Tell that to someone who has worked for it,” said Rodriguez.

“They may believe it,” said Brenner.

“That is usually said by someone who is preparing to steal something from someone else,” said Rodriguez.

“Do not be cynical,” said Brenner. “The Pons, of all forms of life with which I am familiar, that is, encultured forms, most closely approximates the ideal of total egalitarianism, and not in political myth, reenacting familiar charades, but in reality.”

“They are primitive,” granted Rodriguez.

“That is not what I meant,” said Brenner.

“Nature is aristocratic,” said Rodriguez.

“You suggest then, that the Pons are not, in effect, in a state of nature?”

“Does it seem so to you?” asked Rodriguez.

“How would I know?” asked Brenner.

“Consider nature,” said Rodriguez.

“I do not understand,” said Brenner.

“In it there is always distance, rank and hierarchy,” said Rodriguez.

“Then the Pons would not seem to be in a state of nature,” said Brenner.

“No,” said Rodriguez.

“Yet they are surely primitive,” said Brenner.