'But we are not cruel, if we can avoid it, and do not kill without
need. If there was some way we could live in peace and well-fed
contentment, we would throw away our spears and never kill again. But
no one has ever shown us how to do this, if such a way exists.'
A gleam came into his eyes such as Sylviana had not seen for many
months: when he first looked out from the smaller cave, and beheld the
power and majesty of the Mantis. 'Go ahead,' he told them, almost
defiantly. 'Ask me any question. Thank you Kataya, and David
Rawlings. You have made me feel strong and unashamed.'
At this there was another brief space in which the company felt
reluctant to speak. But it did not last. Their desire to know, and to
touch new life, was stronger than their natural timidity.
'Yes, I have a question,' said a woman. 'You say that your
people have no spoken language.' (Sylviana had told the doctor, who
in turn had passed it on to the others). 'And yet you have a name.
How is that?'
'My people all have names, but no sounds to go with them. My name is
a sign made with the hands, or a figure drawn in the dirt, so that I can
be identified to others at need, such as during a hunt. The Machine
called me Kalus, to my mind as well as my ears, just as it gave names to
all the elements of my world.
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