"Yes. Here it is." Ohashi brought up a reel, looked at the scene identifications. He placed the film can on a large stack behind him, re-started the film of Oriental dances. Three hours and ten minutes later they put the film back in its can. "How many new comparisons do you make it?" asked Ohashi. "Five," she said. "That makes one hundred and six in all!" Francine leafed through her notes. "There was the motion of the hands on the hips. I call that one sensual pleasure." Ohashi lighted a pipe, spoke through a cloud of smoke. "The others: How have you labeled them?" "Well, I've just put a note on the motions of one of the Galactics and then the commentator's remarks from this dance film. Chopping motion of the hand ties to the end of Sobaya's first dream: '_Now, I awaken!_' Undulation of the body ties in with swaying of date palms in the desert wind. Stamping of the foot goes with Torak dismounting from his steed. Lifting hands, palms up--that goes with Ali offering his soul to God in prayer before battle." "Do you want to see this latest film from the ship?" asked Ohashi. He glanced at his wristwatch. "Or shall we get a bite to eat first?" She waved a hand distractedly. "The film. I'm not hungry. The film." She looked up. "I keep feeling that there's something I should remember ... something...." She shook her head. "Think about it a few minutes," said Ohashi. "I'm going to send out these other films to be cut and edited according to our selections. And I'll have some sandwiches sent in while I'm at it." Francine rubbed at her forehead. "All right." Ohashi gathered up a stack of film cans, left the room. He knocked out his pipe on a "No Smoking" sign beside the door as he left. "Consonants," whispered Francine. "The ancient alphabets were almost exclusively made up of consonants. Vowels came later. They were the softeners, the swayers." She chewed at her lower lip. "Language constricts the _ways_ you can think." She rubbed at her forehead. "Oh, if I only had Bob's ability with languages!" She tapped her fingers on the chair arm. "It has something to do with our emphasis on _things_ rather than on people and the things people do. Every Indo-European language is the same on that score. If only...." "Talking to yourself?" It was a masculine voice, startling her because she had not heard the door open. Francine jerked upright, turned toward the door. Dr. Irving Langsmith, chief of the American Division of the Germanic-Root team stood just inside, closing the door. "Haven't seen you for a couple of days," he said. "We got your note that you were indisposed." He looked around the room, then at the clutter on the floor beside the chairs. Francine blushed. * * * * *