The Sky's the Limit - Marco Palmieri [121]
Data had begun nodding impatiently. “Yes, I have followed your research on the matter, Doctor Borges,” he assured her. “You have made impressive advances. For instance, your recognition that the spoken word is only one of multiple semantic channels within Tamarian, alongside vocal intonation and gesture.”
“Thank you, Data,” Borges told him, though her tone had cooled for some reason. “But there’s still a long way to go. The key problem is that the Tamarian brain is simply structured differently from the humanoid norm. That’s why it’s so hard to get a full computer translation. You see,” she explained to Picard, “the fundamental rules of grammar that underlie all human languages are innate in our brains. Different languages put those rules together differently, but they share the same building blocks.”
“Transformational grammar,” Data interposed. “A theory formulated by Noam Chomsky in the twentieth century on Earth, and independently by T’Soni of—”
“Yes, thank you, Data,” Picard interrupted, as he had done many times in the past. Data snapped his mouth shut. Before he had installed the emotion chip, he had never realized how irritating it was to be interrupted.
Borges continued, “And since most humanoids have similar brain structures—presumably due to the shared genetic program you and Professor Galen discovered two years ago, Captain—their languages usually follow those same patterns, patterns the translator is designed to recognize and use as a Rosetta stone of sorts.”
“But the Tamarian brain structure is different,” Picard said, nodding.
“That’s right. They don’t have a strong sense of themselves as individuals. They perceive reality in terms of archetypes and see themselves as manifestations of those archetypes. Instead of Sofia Borges embroidering a dress, say, I’m Arachne at her loom. If I then go to mop the floor, I’m Herakles in the stables. Or I’m embodying him for as long as he needs me to.”
“Remarkable,” Picard breathed.
“I suspect,” Data said, “that this is related to the Tamarians’ vaguely defined sense of time. As you know, their language is based on images of successive moments rather than descriptions of change or action. Their only time referent is ‘when’ or ‘during.’ They have little sense of past and present, and thus may perceive themselves as indistinguishable from the figures of their mytho-historical past. Also—”
“That’s exactly what I’m thinking,” Borges said, interrupting again. “And it leads to a problem. It makes the Tamarians intensely concerned with proper ritual forms. Everything has to be done consistently with the appropriate mythic precedents, or it isn’t done at all. That’s why they insisted on making contact on their terms, requiring us to figure out their language, rather than making an effort to communicate in our terms. To them, a first contact has to be carried out in accordance with one of the contact tales in their cultural background, whether Rai and Jiri, Zima and Bakor, or Darmok and Jalad—which, by the way, is considered a last-ditch, desperation tactic.”
“I should hope so,” Picard said dryly.
“And the same goes for diplomatic relations as well. We have to negotiate within their ritual context in order for it to have meaning to them. If we don’t follow the right pattern, it upsets the balance of the universe in their view, and they’re likely to react badly.”
Data nodded. “The Tamarians responded aggressively when we attempted to diverge from the ritual script of the Darmok scenario. Historical precedents include the death of Captain James Cook at the hands of—”
“Right. If we can’t play by their rules, it could lead to the end of diplomatic relations at best, war at worst.”
“And,” Picard added, “it would render Captain Dathon’s sacrifice meaningless. I am not willing to accept that, Data.”
“I understand, sir. But what does Doctor Borges believe I can contribute to the effort?” He said it with a touch of