Part 4 (1/2)
”There has to be some way to pa.s.s on that vital information to future generations,” said Paulin, looking first at Clisser and then scanning the faces at the table. ”Let's have a hard think. ”
”Etching on metal's one way... and prominently placing tablets in every Weyr and Hold so they can't be stored away and forgotten.”
”A sort of Rosetta Stone?” Clisser's tone was more statement than query.
”What's that?” Bridgely asked. Clisser had a habit, which annoyed some folk, of dropping odd references into conversations: references with which only he was familiar. It would lead to long lectures from him if anyone gave him the chance.
”On Earth, in the late eighteenth century, a stone with three ancient languages was discovered which gave the clue to translating those languages. We shall, of course, keep our language pure.”
”We're back to etching again,” said Corey, grinning.
”If it's the only way...” Clisser began and then frowned. ”No, there has to be some fail-safe method. I'll investigate options. ”
”All right then, Clisser, but don't put the project aside,” Paulin said. ”I'd rather we had a hundred sirens, bells and whistles going off than no warning at all.” Clisser grinned slowly. ”The bells and whistles are easy enough. It's the siren that will take time. ”
”All right then,” and Paulin looked around the table.
Toe-tapping dance music was all too audible and the younger holders and weyrfolk were plainly restless. ”No more new business?” He didn't wait for an answer but used the gavel to end the meeting.
”That's all for now. Enjoy yourselves, folks.” The speed with which the Hall emptied suggested that that was what all intended to do.
Gather at Fort
”Cliss, what on earth possessed you?” Sheledon demanded, glowering. He was head of the Arts faculty at the College and constantly jealous of what free time he had in which to compose.
”Well,” and Clisser looked away from Sheledon's direct and accusing glare, ”we do have more records and are more familiar with the techniques of accessing them than anyone else. Information and training are what this College was established to provide.”
”Our main function,” and Danja took up the complaint she wanted spare time in which to work with her string quartet, ”is to teach youngsters who would rather ride dragons or acquire many klicks of Pernese real estate to use the wits they were born with. And to brainwash enough youngsters to go out and teach whatever they know to our ever widely-spreading population.”
Dance music swirled about them, but Sheledon and Danja were so incensed that they seemed oblivious to the rhythms that were causing the other three at their table to keep time with foot or hand. Danja shot Lozell a peevish look and he stopped rattling fingers callused from harp strings.
”I don't think it'll be that hard to find some way to indicate a celestial return,” he said in an attempt to appease the wrath of Sheledon and Danja.
”It isn't the 'hard' that bothers me,” Danja said acidly, ” but when will we have the time?” She stabbed her finger at the as-yet-unfinished extension to the teaching facility.
”Particularly since there is a time limit,” and she shot another dirty look at Clisser. ”Winter Solstice.”
”Oh,” and Lozell grimaced. ”Good point.”
”We're all working every hour we can spare from cla.s.ses on what's urgent right now,” Danja went on, gesturing dramatically and pacing up and down the length of their table.
While Sheledon closed in on himself when threatened, Danja exploded into action. Now her nervous movements knocked the chair on which she had placed her violin and she reacted, as quickly, to keep the valuable instrument from falling to the cobbles. She gave Lozell a second nasty look, as if he had been responsible.
Sheledon reached across and took violin and bow from her, putting them very carefully on the table which had been cleared of all but wine gla.s.ses. Absently he mopped a wine spill near the precious violin, one of the few usable relics from Landing days. He gave it a loving pat while Danja continued.
”Like today,” she said, resuming her pacing, ”we taught in the morning, managed to eat something before we spent an afternoon painting so that there will be some finished rooms for the summer term. We had five minutes to change and even then we missed the fly-past which I, for one,” and she paused to jab her thumb into her sternum, ”wanted to see.”
”We've played two sets,” she went on earnestly, ”and will undoubtedly still be playing when the sun rises, and tomorrow will be a repeat of today except no Gather, so we get a good night's rest to prepare us for more of the above, except maybe get a little work done on next term. Which starts in a week, and then we'll have no time at all since we now have to prepare the teachers who'll be graduated to carry The Word to the outer extremities of the continent.” She gestured eastward in a histrionic fas.h.i.+on, then flounced down on the chair the violin had occupied. ”So how are we going to find time to do yet more research, Clisser?”
”We always do find the time,” Clisser said, his quiet rejoinder a subtle criticism of her rant.
”Use it as a history cla.s.s project?” suggested Lozell brightly.
”There you have the answer,” said Bethany who had merely, as was her habit, watched the fireworks Danja was so good at sending up. ”My juniors could use an independent project.”
”So long as we have power to run the library,” Danja added sourly.
”We will, we will,” Clisser said, with bright encouragement.
”Kalvi had his engineers up on the heights during the fly-past working on the sun panels. They'll hook them up to the main banks tomorrow. ”
”Other people worked today, you know. ”
”Well, that's a big consolation,” said Danja acidly.
Clisser refilled her gla.s.s. ”And we'll need some catchy tunes and good lyrics, too, I should think. Something to teach students from a very early age so that they learn all the signs of a Pa.s.s before they learn to ask questions about it.”
”One and one is two, two and two are four?” Danja sang the old multiplying song, then grinned wryly.
”The song remains an effective teaching aid,” Clisser said, filling his gla.s.s. ”Shel, would you put on your composer's hat and whip up some simple effective tunes?” Sheledon nodded enthusiastically.
”I've been saying for years that we ought to incorporate more basic stuff into a musical format. Jemmy's good at little popular airs.” Most of his songs were geared to show off the talent of his soprano spouse, Sydra, who taught history and, in her spare time, was chronicling the early years of the colony.
Bethany's face lit up with a great smile. Jemmy was a favorite pupil of hers, and she was his staunchest champion.
Even Danja looked mollified.
”So,” Clisser went on, having solved one of his immediate problems, what shall we do in the next set?”
”Just like that?” Danja demanded. ”What'll we do in this set? Clisser, will you get real!”
Clisser looked hurt. Bethany leaned over and patted his hand, smiling encouragingly.
”What did you mean by that, Danja?” Clisser asked.
”Don't you realize what a huge responsibility you just so casually... and Danja lifted wide her arms, flinging her hands skyward in exasperation, laid on us all?”
”Nothing we can't solve, dear,” Bethany said in her gentle manner. ”With a little thought and time.”
”Back to time again. Do we have time?” Lozell was back in the discussion. ”Especially if the winter's even half as bad as it was last year... and it's supposed to be, with that d.a.m.ned Red Planet leering down on us... how are we going to cope?”
”We will. We always do,” Sheledon said with a sigh of resignation. ”Paulin will help us out. And certainly the Weyrs do.”
Danja glared at him. ”We've changed tunes, haven't we? I thought you thought we didn't have time.”
Sheledon shrugged diffidently. ”I think Lozell's idea of making a survey a cla.s.s project will solve that problem. And, if Jemmy can whistle up some lyrics, I can certainly churn out some tunes. Or maybe Jemmy can do both in his spare time.”
Sheledon's face softened into a wry grin. He had had a tussle with himself, not to be jealous of Jemmy whose brilliance was multi-faceted. Though he wasn't officially graduated from the Hall, he already ran several smaller study groups and seemed able to do a bit of everything - on a high level. The consummate Jack of all Trades, Clisser called him.