Blue Arrow by Stan C. Smith

Author:Stan C. Smith
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

∞

The Blue Arrow track was not intended for sixty-three-year-old hips. My lung capacity was adequate, but the steep inclines tested my pain tolerance. The trail was busy that day. It had become a popular route for trail runners, and they passed me with their athletic legs and smooth-skinned arms. Two twenty-something girls with glistening faces stopped and asked if I needed help. I smiled and said, “Thanks, but I’m fine.” Bitches.

I’d seen Peter’s car in the parking lot, so I knew he was ahead of me somewhere. I didn’t find him until I crested the summit of Lumley Hill, nearly three hours after I’d started. He was sitting on the blanket that had been diminished to make bandages nine years prior. He sprang to his feet.

“Rose, my God, you came! Here, take a load off.” He gripped my arm until I had settled onto the blanket. I didn’t protest.

We sat in silence and gazed out at the Coral Sea as I caught my breath. I watched the waves moving toward shore near Machans Beach. Each wave seemed to be pursuing the one before it but was never able to join it.

“I read your note,” I said, finally. “This morning.”

“This morning?”

I gave him a sheepish look and shook my head slightly. “I think you’re approaching things wrong.”

He blinked. “What?”

“You’re not going to convince anyone there’s an alien artifact in the Irian Jaya rainforest. You weren’t even able to convince me, and I’m your wife.”

He nodded slowly. “Rose, it’s so wonderful to here those words—”

“Here’s what I think,” I interjected. I wasn’t quite ready to talk about our relationship. “You need to go back to working on your software. Kembalimo. You want people to master it? You want them to learn to communicate using 128 symbols they’ve never seen before? Then make it useful. Make it so they need it.”

He sighed. “I think we’re all going to need it when—”

“No one cares, because you can’t convince them of that. Make it useful now.”

His brows furrowed. “How?”

“It’s some kind of language, right? The symbols are part of a language. If you’re right and the Lamotelokhai was made by intelligent beings, then let’s assume they knew what they were doing. If the thing’s purpose is to make contact with other races, then they must have designed it to be adaptable for a wide variety of ways to communicate, and a variety of cognitive capabilities.”

He nodded. The gears in his head were beginning to grind into action. “Let’s assume they knew what they were doing.”

“Yes,” I said. “The object was designed to teach others to speak with it, regardless of their language or means of communication. Regardless of the way they think.”

Peter edged closer to me on the blanket. “How many languages do you think there are? On this planet, I mean.” He was rolling with it now. “There are 800 on the island of New Guinea alone. Thousands worldwide. Thousands.” He actually took my hand in his.

I almost pulled my hand away, but his touch was warm and comforting.

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