ook at it this way," Lingman said. "Suppose you were to ask, 'Why
was I born under the constellation Scorpio, in conjunction with
Saturn?' I would be unable to answer your question _in terms of the
zodiac_, because the zodiac has nothing to do with it."

"I see," Morran said slowly. "He can't answer questions in terms of
our assumptions."

"That seems to be the case. And he can't alter our assumptions. He is
limited to valid questions--which imply, it would seem, a knowledge we
just don't have."

"We can't even ask a valid question?" Morran asked. "I don't believe
that. We must know some basics." He turned to Answerer. "What is
death?"

"I cannot explain an anthropomorphism."

"Death an anthropomorphism!" Morran said, and Lingman turned quickly.
"Now we're getting somewhere!"

"Are anthropomorphisms unreal?" he asked.

"Anthropomorphisms may be classified, tentatively, as, A, false
truths, or B, partial truths in terms of a partial situation."

"Which is applicable here?"

"Both."

That was the closest they got. Morran was unable to draw any more from
Answerer. For hours the two men tried, but truth was slipping farther
and farther away.

"It's maddening," Morran said, after a while. "This thing has the
answer to the whole universe, and he can't tell us unless we ask the
right question. But how are we supposed to know the right question?"

Lingman sat down on the ground, leaning against a stone wall. He
closed his eyes.

"Savages, that's what we are," Morran said, pacing up and down in
front of Answerer. "Imagine a bushman walking up to a physicist and
asking him why he can't shoot his arrow into the sun. The scientist
can explain it only in his own terms. What would happen?"

"The scientist wouldn't even attempt it," Lingman said, in a dim
voice; "he would know the limitations of the questioner."

"It's fine," Morran said angrily. "How do you explain the earth's
rotation to a bushman? Or better, how do you explain relativity to
him--maintaining scientific rigor in your explanation at all times, of
course."

Lingman, eyes closed, didn't answer.

"We're bushmen. But the gap is much greater here. Worm and super-man,
perhaps. The worm desires to know the nature of dirt, and why there's
so much of it. Oh, well."

"Shall we go, sir?" Morran asked. Lingman's eyes remained closed. His
taloned fingers were clenched, his cheeks sunk further in. The skull
was emerging.

"Sir! Sir!"

And Answerer knew