The Greatest Sci-Fi Books of Erle Cox. Erle Cox
she had removed the instrument from his wrist. Then approaching more closely, she placed the lens against his neck. Obeying her mute orders, he again closed his eyes, and Dundas realised to the full how fearfully and wonderfully we are made, by the vision of pulsing torrent in vein and artery, and the perfect harmony of movement in muscle and tissue revealed. Unused as he was to such things, his great wonder at what he saw overcame his repugnance, and when he finally opened his eyes he dimly realised how much this wonder he held in his hands deserved its place of honour in the gallery.
Earani returned the instrument to its place, and together they wandered into the great vestibule. Here Alan, indicating the stairway, invited her to ascend, but, standing at its foot, she shook her head, and many days passed before she finally ventured into upper air. Instead, they returned to the "temple," and Alan continued his tuition.
The day was far spent when he finally left her, more desperately fascinated than before by her beauty and charm. It was the first of many such days, and time for Dundas fled on golden wings. Barry was a constant visitor to 'Cootamundra.' He had carried into effect Alan's wish for books, and the short interval between each visit he made was marked by a progress in the pupil that was a constant source of astonishment to both men. They were not long in discovering that the intelligence of Earani was of no common order. Her phenomenal memory was the least of her powers. Whatever was given to it was retained clearly and accurately, but what was more remarkable was her ability to apply unerringly and unhesitatingly the lessons that Dundas gave her in the rules that governed the language. In a fortnight she was able to make herself understood clearly, and at the end of the month she had a command of English that anyone who was unaware of the circumstances would have judged had taken a year or two of study to absorb. In addition to this she had learned to read and write. Not easily, it is true, but with a proficiency that left her two tutors in a constant state of wonder. Where another would have tired with the constant strain of the work involved, the progress she made only seemed to whet her appetite for more, and when she had mastered the elements of her task Dundas discovered that when he left her at the day's end, as she always insisted, she enlarged on her lessons when she was by herself.
On one point, however, Earani was adamant in her resolution. She had decreed that until she became mistress of the language she would tell them nothing of the mystery that surrounded her, nor would she allow them to penetrate the secrets of the galleries. She told them both that her reason was that until she could unfold her story fluently, and without fear of being misunderstood, she would not touch upon it at all, and no attempts on the part of either Alan or Barry could make her waver.
With such a reward in sight, Dundas strove with her to reach the desired point of proficiency, and the task involved far more than he had expected. Command of the English language was not all she demanded. An outline of the world's political history and its social customs was a minor part of the rest. She wanted a knowledge of government, ancient and modern, of laws new and old. Her demands on Alan's scientific knowledge strained his slender resources to the breaking point. It was a fascinating task for Alan, apart from the delight he took in being constantly in her society. That wonderful memory he had to deal with made the work very easy. Nothing that was ever given to it was lost or mislaid. There was no feeling for the right word when once it had been stored in her mind. In eight weeks she could read almost anything that was given to her, and once she had gained this point her progress increased by leaps and bounds. Alan selected her books carefully from his library, and alternatively they read aloud to one another. In accent and inflection she imitated him exactly, and more than once some phrase or expression of Alan's falling from her lips caused Barry to smile in spite of himself.
Apart from the pleasure that both took in instructing their pupil, there were occasional flashes from the hidden depths of her mind that gave them food for reflection. One day Alan had given her an outline of the history of the Constitution of Great Britain, and a general survey of the Empire and the Imperial idea, and from that had drifted to the Constitution of the Commonwealth. She had absorbed it all, making very little comment, as was her custom, merely interposing with an incisive query on any point on which she was not quite clear. "That is as it should be, Alan," she said at the end. "It is well that the people should choose their own lawmakers, and, of course, the people are wise and choose the greatest and noblest minds amongst them for a position so high." It was a comment rather than a question as she said it, and as Alan felt disinclined at the time to enter into a lecture on the party system he let it go at that, with certain mental reservations.
However, on the next day he found that a weekly journal had published a double page, giving portraits of the whole of the members of both the Federal Houses. As a matter of interest he brought her the journal, and showed her the portraits. For a long time Earani sat absorbed, and watching her, Alan saw that her eyes went from face to face and stayed for a little while with each. In the end she looked up at him. "Alan, my friend, but you jest with me. These are not the lawmakers of a nation." Alan shrugged his shoulders, and glanced round at Barry, who had come in while Earani sat absorbed in the portraits. "It is true, Earani," said Barry; "those are the men that the people have chosen to rule them." She sat in silence for a space, staring doubtfully from one to the other. "Why do you doubt it, Earani?" asked Alan, smiling at her serious face. She answered quietly, "I have the gift of reading the faces of men, and in that I cannot fail. You show me rogues and fools, and you show me some who are both. Amongst them all there are few whose faces bear the marks of the nobility that should alone fit them for such an office, and yet you tell me that these are your lawmakers chosen by your people." She stopped and picked up the page that had fallen from her lap, and spread it on the table before her. "Look," she went on, and the two men stood beside her as the condemning finger passed from face to face. "You see it printed there–lust of power; avarice; a rogue–another. See this one with a mind a little better than the beasts. Could he weigh good from bad or right from wrong? Could this one foresee or gauge the effect of any law?" And so on from face to face, summing up each in two or three caustic words. Once she paused. "Though they are not all the same– here is one–this is a leader and a man. Were they all like this the people had done well. What is his name, Alan?"
"He is known as Sir Miles Glover, and he is the Prime Minister of the country. He has been honoured by our King for the work he has done for the country," answered Alan.
Earani looked at the clear, clean-cut face and nodded while Barry put in, "Sometimes they call him Cold Steel. He has few friends, but those that don't love, trust him."
Earani spoke. "That is likely. Such a man does not make friends easily, especially amongst such people." She waved a contemptuous hand over the legislators. "I will remember the name. Later I shall have use for him." The two men looked at each other over her head, and Earani tossed the page aside. "Are your people mad, or is this the best the country can get for the work? Of them all only two or three are fitted for it."
Barry chuckled with delight at Alan's irritated face. "Come, Dun, give Earani the history of Party Government, and tell her of the wisdom of democracy." And Alan, half amused and half angry, explained how the candidates were selected and finally elected.
"So that," said Earani at the end, "if there are only two parties in the State there are only two candidates?"
"Generally speaking, that is so," answered Dundas.
"Even supposing one were a great and good man, and the other but a tool for the party leaders, would not the people choose the better man?"
Barry interposed. "If the greatest statesman who ever lived opposed a nominated hod-carrier, with the brain of a chimpanzee, the statesman would not be elected in some of the constituencies; in fact, in most of them. The preference of the people is for the party's nominee."
"The preference of swine for offal," was the terse comment. With her hands on the table before her, Earani stared in front of her with unseeing eyes, unheeding Barry's huge delight at her words. Presently she spoke in a low voice, and as one thinking aloud. "Ah, there will be a great killing–a great killing." Then she stood up. "Come, Dick, there are things you must tell me before you go," and she led the way to the Biological Gallery. On both her hearers the few absently-spoken words left a deep impression, and although more than once Alan attempted to learn her meaning, she deftly turned the question aside.
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