August 08, 2008

Let the Word Take Me p.8

Living scales will not grow on the dead objects that surround me here. It is not at all what I imagined when I left my childhood behind in the Lands and began my Trial, seeking my own Great Tale. But monstrous Cheora of the Two Faces greets travelers with pain first, wisdom afterward. For though a thousand things I neither recognize nor understand strike me dumb, yet in this desert of the Word I have grasped a greater truth, that it is the very alikeness of things which permits social speech.

How shall I bring this understanding back to the People? Can one forsaken by the Word yet return to claim it? I cling to my faith to sustain me, repeating to myself each hour: this is my Trial, and if I can endure it, it will become my Tale.

But in such a Wordless place, how can my prayers be answered?

***

"It's not all bad," Father said, once the vibrations of shuttle takeoff had subsided.

David turned away from the window. With his stomach churning nervously at the thought of facing diplomats and geckos, he hadn't been enjoying the view anyway. "How so?"

"Think about it. In a way, I've been preparing you for this moment all your life – your chance to act as a full-fledged research scientist. I'm sure you'll do admirably."

"Oh, thanks." Yesterday's lectures would be preferable to a

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