“You still can’t tell them apart, can you?” asked Brenner.
“It was, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” said Brenner. Rodriguez was looking after the Pon. It had now hurried away, between two huts.
That Pon, and he alone, had seemed hostile toward Brenner, even from the beginning. Brenner did not understand it. As far as he knew he had done nothing to offend it. It had never bothered Rodriguez.
“It bad Pon,” explained one of the Pons to Brenner.
“No,” smiled Brenner. “It not bad Pon. All Pons good.”
“Yes,” said another Pon, its small lips moving apart, in something like a smile, seemingly odd in such a face. “All Pons good.”
“Yes,” said Brenner.
“Yes,” said the Pons present.
Brenner saw the git keeper standing nearby, watching the small group. The keeper had a small vessel of water and a tiny bucket, containing bemat seed. It would soon be time for the git, that in the small wire cage, on the table under the open-sided, roofed structure, to be fed.
“Greetings,” said Brenner.
The keeper put down his head, not meeting Brenner’s eyes, and hurried to his duties.
“They are shy creatures,” said Rodriguez.
“One, two, three,” counted Brenner, slowly, pointing to each upright twig in turn.
“One, two, three,” said the first Pon, proudly.
Brenner then put his left hand over the three pebbles.
“Three,” he said.
“Three,” said the Pons.
He then put his right hand over the twigs. “Three,” he said.
“Three,” said the Pons.
Brenner then folded his arms, and said, very distinctly, “Three.”
“Three stones?” asked the first Pon.
“Three sticks?” asked another.
“No,” said Brenner. “Just three—three.”
The Pons looked at Brenner, and at one another, puzzled.
“They cannot grasp the concept,” said Rodriguez.
“Look,” said Brenner. He pointed to the three stones, and said, “Three,” and then to the three twigs, and said, “Three,” and he then counted the Pons, too. “One, two, three,” he said.
The Pons looked at one another.
“They have probably never thought of themselves as objects, capable of being counted,” said Rodriguez.
“Do you think they would find it alarming, or demeaning?” asked Brenner. He had certainly not wanted to frighten or offend the Pons.
“No,” said Rodriguez. “It is merely that they may very well not have achieved that sort of perspective. Indeed, the adoption of such a perspective, an external perspective, a sort of standing outside oneself, doubtless constitutes some sort of scientific achievement. A baby presumably does not think of itself as being one baby, or even a baby, presumably.”
“Three Pons!” said the lead Pon, suddenly. “Three Pons!” It leaped up and down. It said, excitedly, “One Pon, two Pons, three Pons!”
“Good! Good!” said Brenner. “Good!” He held the Pon by the arms and shook it delightedly.
“Good!” said the Pon.
“We shall call that one “Archimedes,”” said Rodriguez.
“Do not be cynical,” said Brenner, delightedly. “It is wonderful.”
“Look,” said Rodriguez to Brenner. Then he turned to the Pons. He pointed to the three pebbles first, and then to the three twigs, and then to the three Pons. Then he did not point to any of the three groups, neither that of pebbles, nor twigs, nor Pons. “Three!” he said.
The Pons looked about, eagerly, but then, after a moment, regarded Rodriguez, perplexed.
“Do you see?” Rodriguez asked Brenner.
“Perhaps,” said Brenner.
“Experiments have demonstrated that even rodents can grasp the concept of threeness,” said Rodriguez, in disgust. “They can be taught to locate food behind a panel marked with three objects, circles, or lines, or such.”
“Pons can do that,” said Brenner. “It is only that they have not yet grasped the concept of pure number. That is an abstraction of the second order.”
“Do not grow too fond of these things,” said Rodriguez. “You do not know what they are.”
“What do you mean?”
“You do not know what they think, what goes on in their heads,” said Rodriguez.
“That is all for now,” said Brenner. He pulled up the twigs, like tiny stakes, and dropped them back on the ground. He stood up. He dusted off the knees of his trousers.
The Pons, too, stood up. They had been squatting down in front of him.
“What is it that you wanted to show me?” asked Brenner.
“You are supposed to be investigating these things,” said Rodriguez, “not teaching them mathematics.”
“They need help,” said Brenner.
“Let others help them, after our work is done, perhaps in another generation or two,” said Rodriguez. “You are here to study them, in as original, pure, and untouched a form as is possible. You want to find out how they are now, and why they are as they are, not start them being different. You may be contaminating the data.