to hear _this_ record, the one
the Martians made right here on Earth."

Thwaite nodded comprehendingly. "The human race is a good deal like an
amnesia patient that wakes up at the age of forty and finds himself
with a fairly prosperous business, a wife and children and a mortgage,
but no recollection of his youth or infancy--and nobody around to tell
him how he got where he is.

"We invented writing so doggone late in the game. Now we get to Mars
and find the people there knew us before we knew ourselves--but they
died or maybe picked up and went, leaving just this behind." He used
both hands to lift the precious gray cylinder from its box. "And of
course you linguists in particular get a big charge out of this
discovery."

"_If_ it's a record of human speech it'll be the oldest ever found. It
may do for comparative-historical linguistics what the Rosetta Stone
did for Egyptology." Dalton grinned boyishly. "Some of us even nurse
the hope it may do something for our old headache--the problem of the
origin of language. That was one of the most important, maybe _the_
most important step in human progress--and we don't know how or when
or why!"

"I've heard of the bowwow theory and the dingdong theory," said
Thwaite, his hands busy with the machine.

"Pure speculations. The plain fact is we haven't even been able to
make an informed guess because the evidence, the written records, only
run back about six thousand years. That racial amnesia you spoke of.

"Personally, I have a weakness for the magical theory--that man
invented language in the search for magic formulae, words of power.
Unlike the other theories, that one assumes as the motive force not
merely passive imitativeness but an outgoing will.

"Even the speechless subman must have observed that he could affect
the behavior of animals of his own and other species by making
appropriate noises--a mating call or a terrifying shout, for instance.
Hence the perennial conviction you can get what you want if you just
hold your mouth right, _and_ you know the proper prayers or curses."

"A logical conclusion from the animistic viewpoint," said Thwaite. He
frowned over the delicate task of starting the film, inquired
offhandedly, "You got the photostat of the label inscription? What did
you make of it?"

"Not much more than Henderson did on Mars. There's the date of the
recording and the place--the longitude doesn't mean anything to us
because we still don't know