Phylogenesis - Alan Dean Foster [105]
“I am nothing of the kind. There is no such thing as telepathy. At least, its existence has not yet been formally verified. I don’t need to be able to read your mind, Cheelo-person, to know that you have been lying.”
“You’ve got some nerve, bug. I save your life and fix up your leg real good, and the first thing you can think of to say to me afterward isn’t ‘Thank you very much, man, for saving my life,’ it’s ‘Why have you been lying to me?’”
“Thranx are very forthright—and you are being deliberately evasive.”
Cheelo shrugged diffidently. “I got nothing to hide. So if I’m lying, give me an example. Catch me out with one.” Sneering, he leaned forward and made beckoning motions with both hands. “Come on, big-eyes. Hand me back one of my own lies.”
“Very well. You are not a naturalist.”
Cheelo looked up sharply. Why was he wasting his time on this nonsense? “You’re new to this planet, I’m the first native you’ve spent any time with, and already you can tell when a human is telling the truth or not? Sorry, but I don’t think you’re that smart.”
“It is merely a matter of analyzing causal observations made during the time we have spent together.” Desvendapur was neither intimidated nor angered by the human’s attitude. “We have shared each other’s company for a number of days now. In all that time I have not seen you perform a single act of scrutiny that might justify your presumed appellation. You have examined nothing, identified nothing, collected nothing. You have utterly ignored the ‘natural’ world around you except when it threatened to impede your progress or complicate your movements.
“While I am willing, indeed am forced, to assume the existence of significant differences in our cultures, science is not nearly so variable. Body shape, size, and perceptive abilities may vary, but certain things remain constant throughout the galaxy.
“One is that all science is based on observation. In the time I have spent in your company, you have made none. Not one. Nor have you taken notes, or made visual recordings, or done anything else to indicate that you are in the profession of gathering and analyzing information.”
“See these? These are my cameras!” Using forked fingers, Cheelo indicated his eyes. “And these are my scri!bers—my recorders.” He pointed to his ears. “I’ve got a good memory, and I remember everything I see.”
Desvendapur gestured comprehension, then remembered to follow it with a head nod so that the human would understand. “Do you? Yesterday a flock of most interesting avians flew past overhead, visible through a fortuitous gap in the forest canopy. Both of us remarked on their appearance. Can you tell me what color they were?”
Cheelo fought to remember. “Blue!” he announced finally. “They were bright blue, with touches of yellow.” He smirked triumphantly at the multilimbed alien. “How’s that for an example of a naturalist’s memory at work?”
“More than sufficient to diminish his standing, if he were thranx. They were green, not blue, and their beaks were red.”
“Not true!” Cheelo objected strenuously. “Blue with yellow, and you can’t prove otherwise!”
“But I can.” Holding out his scri!ber, Desvendapur gestured with the instrument. “I do not only record my compositions; where possible I also record their sources of inspiration. Would you like to see the flock in question? I can play it back for you, together with my notes for the stanzas I composed to accompany the flight.”
Caught. Cheelo snarled at the compact alien instrument. “Okay, so I can’t remember everything. So what? That proves nothing.”
“It proves that you are either the most extraordinary naturalist of your species, or the most indifferent. Any thranx claiming to hold such a position would carry instruments designed to take measurements, carry out analyses, and make records. I have not seen you utilize a single such device.” A truhand indicated the human’s pack. “Show them to me. Show me one. Now.”
Yet again, Cheelo found