Bronowski shook his head. “You mistake me. I mean I can’t possibly read them, nor can anyone else. There’s no base. In the case of Earthly languages, however dead, there is always the chance of finding a living language, or a dead language already deciphered, that bears some relationship to it, however faint. Failing that, there is at least the fact that any Earthly language was written by human beings with human ways of thought. That makes a starting point, however feeble. None of this is the case with the parasymbols, so that they constitute a problem that clearly has no solution. An insolubility is not a problem.”
Lamont had kept himself from interrupting only with difficulty, and now he burst out, “You are wrong, Dr. Bronowski. I don’t want to seem to be teaching you your profession but you don’t know some of the facts that my own profession has uncovered. We are dealing with para-men, concerning whom we know almost nothing. We don’t know what they are like, how they think, what kind of world they live on; almost nothing, however basic and fundamental. So far, you are right.”
“But it’s only almost nothing that you know, is that it?” Bronowski did not seem impressed. He took out a package of dried figs from his pocket, opened them and began to eat. He offered it to Lamont, who shook his head.
Lamont said, “Right. We do know one thing of crucial importance. They are more intelligent than we are. Item one: They can make the exchange across the inter-Universe gap, while we can play only a passive role.”
He interrupted himself here to ask, “Do you know anything about the Inter-Universe Electron Pump?”
“A little,” said Bronowski. “Enough to follow you, Doctor, if you don’t get technical.”
Lamont hastened on. “Item two: They sent us instructions as to how to set up our part of the Pump. We couldn’t understand it but we could make out the diagrams just sufficiently well to give us the necessary hints. Item Three: They can somehow sense us. At least they can become aware of our leaving tungsten for them to pick up, for instance. They know where it is and can act upon it. We can do nothing comparable. There are other points but this is enough to show the para-men to be clearly more intelligent than we are.”
Bronowski said, “I imagine, though, that you are in the minority here. Surely your colleagues don’t accept this.”
“They don’t. But what makes you come to that conclusion?”
“Because you’re clearly wrong, it seems to me.”
“My facts are correct. And since they are, how can I be wrong?”
“You are merely proving the technology of the para-men is more advanced than ours. What has that to do with intelligence? See here”—Bronowski rose to take off his jacket and then sat down in a half-reclining position, the soft rotundity of his body seeming to relax and crease in great comfort as though physical ease helped him think—“about two and a half centuries ago, the American naval commander Matthew Perry led a flotilla into Tokyo harbor. The Japanese, till then isolated, found themselves faced with a technology considerably beyond their own and decided it was unwise to risk resistance. An entire warlike nation of millions was helpless in the face of a few ships from across the sea. Did that prove that Americans were more intelligent than the Japanese were, or merely that Western culture had taken a different turning? Clearly the latter, for within half a century, the Japanese had successfully imitated Western technology and within another half a century were a major industrial power despite the fact that they were disastrously beaten in one of the wars of the time.”
Lamont listened gravely, and said, “I’ve thought that, too, Dr. Bronowski, though I didn’t know about the Japanese—I wish I had the time to read history. Yet the analogy is wrong. It’s more than technical superiority; it’s a matter of difference in degree of intelligence.”
“How can you tell, aside from guessing?”
“Because of the mere fact that they sent us directions. They were eager for us to set up our part of the Pump; they had to have us do it. They could not physically cross over; even their thin foils of iron on which their messages were incised (the substance most nearly stable in either world) slowly grew too radioactive to keep in one piece, though, of course, not before we had made permanent copies on our own materials.” He