Embassytown - China Mieville [122]
“We need to understand them,” Cal said. “So we can defeat them.”
We were here to take notes, to learn Languageless behaviour. By experiments before cams in sealed rooms; by interactions between the Absurd and our allies, that would not be interactions but actions from and its coterie, and ignored by the Absurd; or if responded to in such ways that they were not discernible to us as reactions at all.
The solipsism of those that had torn out their own fanwings seemed impenetrable. Perhaps some on the committee believed Cal’s assertion that we were preparing to defeat them, but seeing him cajole —speaking through MagDa again to avoid the tedium of repeatedly enthralling the Ariekes ally—to speak to the Absurd, which they pointlessly attempted, making MagDa try it too, I think there must have been many who knew, as I did then, that his hope was to negotiate.
But they were thousands who’d closed all windows in and out of themselves, cut off Language, become monads full of murder. No knowledge we had could make much difference. With the scrags of Wyatt’s arsenal and EzCal’s Ariekene force we might kill some, but the city was still shrinking, inhabitants dying, self-mutilating, running to nearby settlements where speakers would broadcast the god-drug voice. There were more Absurd than Ariekei that would fight by us.
MagDa spoke in Language; then one or other would say, “They can’t even fucking hear us,” while the Absurd snarled.
“So show them,” Cal said. “Make them understand.” And this exchange would continue and mutate, upsetting and pointless. The whole Ariekes would repeat its words: MagDa and the other Ambassadors would make gestures with their hands. Our enemies came closer. The Languageless pulled against their bonds. They watched their interlocutors, ignoring overtures and focusing on actions. I saw sudden shared moments of attention, responding to idiosyncrasies of ’s motion invisible to me.
The Absurd glared at each other. They made noises without knowing it. They got each other’s attention with spread-out eye-tines, made motions to indicate things to notice. To the extent that they could they moved, taking up positions while Cal and EzCal flashed up images on screens, played vibrations to them through the floor. They walked, triangulated, parted.
I didn’t say anything fast enough, but when they suddenly tried to attack an Ariekes guard I realised I’d known it was about to happen. They were subdued before they could use their own strapped bodies as ungainly bludgeons, but the synchronicity of their movements astounded me. It sent me back to my husband’s books.
“How do you say ‘that’ in Language?” I asked Bren. “Like that one.” I pointed. “Which glass do you want? That one.”
“It would depend.” He looked at the glass by his counter. “Talking about that one, I might say …”
“No I don’t mean any specific one, but in general, that one.” Pointing. “Or that one.” Moving my hand. “Thatness.”
“There’s nothing.”
“No?”
“Of course not.”
“Thought so. So how would I distinguish that glass and that one and that one?” I tallied them with my finger.
“You’d say ‘the glass in front of the apple and the glass with a flaw in its base and the glass with a residue of wine left in it.’ You know this. What are you asking? They taught you these basics, didn’t they?”
“They did,” I said. I was quiet a while. “Years ago.” I spoke in years again, not kilohours. “But if you were translating an Ariekes saying, ‘The glass with the apple and the one with the wine,’ to me, you’d probably just say, ‘That glass and that one.’ Sometimes translation stops you understanding. I’m not fluent. Maybe that’s helping me right now.”
“Translation always stops you understanding,” he said. “What is it you’re thinking?”
“How many days before they get here?” I said. “Can you get hold