astonished the world’s philologists when he triumphed.
The Etruscan translations themselves were marvels of dullness and had no significance whatever; routine funerary inscriptions for the most part. The fact of the translation, however, was stunning and, as it turned out, it proved of the greatest importance to Lamont.
—Not at first. To be perfectly truthful about it, the translations had been a fact for nearly five years before Lamont had as much as heard that there were such people, once, as the Etruscans. But then Bronowski came to the university to give one of the annual Fellowship Lectures and Lamont, who usually shirked the duty of attending which fell on the faculty members, did not shirk this one.
It was not because he recognized its importance or felt any interest in it whatever. It was because he was dating a graduate student in the Department of Romance Languages and it was either that or a music festival he particularly wanted to avoid hearing. The social connection was a feeble one, scarcely satisfactory from Lamont’s point of view and only temporary, but it did get him to the talk.
He rather enjoyed it, as it happened. The dim Etruscan civilization entered his consciousness for the first time as a matter of distant interest, and the problem of solving an undeciphered language struck him as fascinating. When young, he had enjoyed solving cryptograms, but had put them away with other childish things in favor of the much grander cryptograms posed by nature, so that he ended in para-theory.
Yet Bronowski’s talk took him back to the youthful joys of making slow sense of what seemed a random collection of symbols, and combined it with sufficient difficulty to add great honor to the task. Bronowski was a cryptogrammist on the grandest scale, and it was the description of the steady encroachment of reason upon the unknown that Lamont enjoyed.
All would yet have gone for nothing—the triple coincidence of Bronowski’s appearance at campus, Lamont’s youthful cryptogrammic enthusiasm, the social pressure of an attractive young lady—were it not for the fact that it was the next day that Lamont saw Hallam and placed himself firmly and, as he eventually found, permanently, in the doghouse.
Within an hour of the conclusion of that interview, Lamont determined to see Bronowski. The issue at hand was the very one that had seemed so obvious to himself and that had so offended Hallam. Because it brought down censure on him, Lamont felt bound to strike back—and in connection with the point of censure specifically. The para-men were more intelligent than man. Lamont had believed it before in a casual sort of way as something more obvious than vital. Now it had become vital. It must be proved and the fact of it forced down the throat of Hallam; sideways, if possible, and with all the sharp corners exposed.
Already Lamont found himself so far removed from his so-recent hero worship that he relished the prospect.
Bronowski was still on campus and Lamont tracked him down and insisted on seeing him.
Bronowski was blandly courteous when finally cornered.
Lamont acknowledged the courtesies brusquely, introduced himself with clear impatience, and said, “Dr. Bronowski, I’m delighted to have caught you before you left. I hope that I will persuade you to stay here even longer.”
Bronowski said, “That may not be hard. I have been offered a position on the university faculty.”
“And you will accept the position?”
“I am considering it. I think I may.”
“You must. You will, when you hear what I have to say. Dr. Bronowski, what is there for you to do now that you’ve solved the Etruscan inscriptions?”
“That is not my only task, young man.” (He was five years older than Lamont.) “I’m an archaeologist, and there is more to Etruscan culture than its inscriptions and more to pre-classical Italic culture than the Etruscans.”
“But surely nothing as exciting for you, and as challenging, as the Etruscan inscriptions?”
“I grant you that.”
“So you would welcome something even more exciting, even more challenging, and something a trillion times as significant as those inscriptions.”
“What have you in mind, Dr.—Lamont?”
“We have inscriptions that are not part of a dead culture, or part of anything on Earth, or part of anything in the Universe. We have something called parasymbols.”
“I’ve heard of them. For that matter, I’ve seen them.”
“Surely, then, you have had the urge to tackle the problem, Dr. Bronowski? You have had the desire to work out what they say?”
“No desire at all, Dr. Lamont, because there’s no problem.”