"And the body remembers beyond," she said. "It's a different kind of
memory: encysted in an overlay of trained responses like the thing
we call language. We have to look back to our childhood because all
children are primitives. Every cell of a child knows the language of
emotional movements--the clutching reflexes, the wails and contortions,
the sensuous twistings, the gentle reassurances."
"And you say these people cannot lie," murmured Ohashi.
Francine felt the upsurge of happiness. It was still tainted by the
death around her and the pain she knew was yet to come for her people,
but the glow was there expanding. "The body," she said, and shook her
head at the scowl of puzzlement on Ohashi's face. "The intellect...."
She broke off, aware that Ohashi had not yet made the complete
transition to the new way of communicating, that she was still most
likely the only member of her race even aware of the vision on this
high plateau of being.
* * * * *
Ohashi shook his head and sunlight flashed on his glasses. "I'm trying
to understand," he said.
"I know you are," she said. "Hiko, all of our Earth languages have a
bias toward insanity because they split off the concept of intellect
from the concept of body. That's an over-simplification, but it will do
for now. You get fragmentation this way, you see? Schizophrenia. These
people now--" She gestured toward the silent Galactics. "--they have
reunited body and intellect in their communication. A gestalten thing
that requires the total being's participation. They cannot lie because
that would be to lie to themselves--and this would completely inhibit
speech." She shook her head. "Speech is not the word, but it is the
only word we have now."
"A paradox," said Ohashi.
She nodded. "The self that is one cannot lie to the self. When body
and intellect say the same thing ... that is truth. When words and
wordlessness agree ... that is truth. You see?"
Ohashi stood frozen before her, eyes glistening behind the thick
lenses. He opened his mouth, closed it, then bowed his head. In that
moment he was the complete Oriental and Francine felt that she could
look through him at all of his ancestry, seeing and understanding every
culture and every person that had built to the point of the pyramid
here in one person: Hiko Ohashi.
"I see it," he murmured. "It was example they showed. Not words to
decipher. Only example for recognition, to touch our memories and call
them forth. What great teachers! What great masters of being!"
One of the Galactics stepped closer, gestured toward the area behind
Francine. His movements and the intent were clear to her, interpreted
through her new understanding.
The Galactic's wide lips moved. "You are being recorded," he said.
"It would be an opportune moment to begin the education of your
people--since all new things must have a point of birth."
She nodded, steeling herself before turning. _Even with the pain of
birth_, she thought. This was the moment that would precipitate the
avalanche of change. Without knowing precisely how she would set off
this chain reaction, she had no doubt that she would do it. Slowly,
she turned, saw the movie cameras, the television lenses, the cone
microphones all directed at her. People were pressed up against an
invisible wall that drew an arc around the ship's entrance and this
charmed circle where she stood. _Part of the ship's defenses_, she
thought. _A force field to stop intruders._
A muted murmuring came from the wall of people.
Francine stepped toward them, saw the lenses and microphones adjust.
She focused on angry faces beyond the force field--and faces with
fear--and faces with nothing but a terrible awe. In the foreground,
well within the field, lay Zakheim's body, one hand outstretched and
almost pointing at her. Silently, she dedicated this moment to him.
* * * * *
"Listen to me very carefully," she said. "But more important, see
beyond my words to the place where words cannot penetrate." She felt
her body begin to tingle with a sudden release of energy. Briefly, she
raised herself onto her toes. "If you see the truth of my message, if
you see through to this place that I show you, then you will enter a
higher order of existence: happier, sadder. Everything will take on
more depth. You will feel more of all the things there are in this
universe for us to feel."
Her new-found knowledge was like a shoring up within, a bottomless well
of strength.
"All the window widows of all the lonely homes of Earth am I," she
said. And she bent forward. It was suddenly not Dr. Francine Millar,
psychologist, there on the sand. By the power of mimesis, she projected
the figure of a woman in a housedress leaning on a windowsill, staring
hopelessly into an empty future.
"And all the happy innocence seeking pain."
Again, she moved: the years peeled away from her. And now, she picked
up a subtle rhythm of words and movements that made experienced actors
cry with envy when they saw the films.
"Nature building Nature's thunder am I," she chanted, her body swaying.
"Red roses budding
"And the trout thudding water
"And the moon pounding out stars
"On an ocean wake--
"All these am I!
"A fast hurling motion am I!
"What you think I am--that I am not!
"Dreams tell your senses all my names:
"Not harshly loud or suddenly neglectful, sarcastic, preoccupied or
rebukeful--
"But murmuring.
"You abandoned a twelve-hour day for a twelve-hour night
"To meddle carefully with eternity!
"Then you realize the cutting hesitancy
"That prepares a star for wishing....
"When you see my proper image--
"A candle flickering am I.
"Then you will feel the lonely intercourse of the stars.
"Remember! Remember! Remember!"