by JC Ryan
Late in the afternoon, after the recording had been returned to him, Sinclair was listening to it when Nicholas dropped by.
"Got time for a drink with your old professor?" Nicholas asked.
"After five on any day, I've got time for a drink with anyone who suggests it," said Sinclair, laughing. To say the old Irishman was a hearty drinker was like saying a tidal wave was a big splash of water. Nicholas brandished a bottle of Jameson's and Sinclair waved him in.
As Sinclair produced two glasses from a desk drawer, Nicholas asked, "What was that you were listening to?"
"Preliminary language analysis. The first foil from that box your grandson brought back from the Grand Canyon had an alphabet and pronunciation guide in it. So someone got the bright idea of recording a few of the words on the next foil to see if we'd recognize the language and be able to translate from the spoken word."
"So," said Nicholas, "what is it?"
"That's the trouble. None of the translators recognizes it. It sounds familiar to me, but I don't know what it's saying, so it isn't a language I know or can name off the top of my head by the sound of it."
"Let's hear it," said Nicholas. Sinclair humored the older man by playing it again, though Nicholas didn't claim expertise in languages. His field was archaeology. Specifically the archaeology of the desert southwest of the United States.
"Hodeeyaadeh' Diyin yoh taahah eendah"
Sinclair stopped the recording after the first phrase. "I should get a copy of the alphabet and pronunciation guide. It sounds to me like there's something missing."
"It sounds to me like a white man trying to speak Navajo," Nicholas said.
"What? Why would you say that?" What a delicious irony, that the very language he'd suggested to Salome they use as a code could be the key to this discovery.
"I don't know. Just sounds similar to stuff I've heard on digs. Except they have all these clicks and shortened vowels, like their throats suddenly went dry. And it sounds more like singing," Nicholas said, before taking another sip of his drink.
"What do you mean, singing?"
"You know. The words go up and down." Nicholas gave a good imitation of the first word on the recording, varying his tone as if each syllable was written to a different note on the scale. It did sound a little bit like the only phrase Sinclair knew in Navajo, something Nicholas himself had taught him. "Yah-te-hey" which Nicholas had explained could mean anything from "Hi" to "How's it hangin'?"
"That's interesting. Navajo's a form of Athabaskan, but to the best of my knowledge, none of the Athabaskan languages ever had a written alphabet."
"To the best of your knowledge before my grandson brought you his theory, there never was a civilization before ours. What if the written form was lost, and even the sophisticated vocabulary, but the language survived among some of the survivors of their cataclysm?" Sinclair had to admit that, despite his old professor's good-natured insult to his intelligence, he was right. What they'd worked out for the language that turned out to be the key to the Tenth Cycle library wasn't any less far-fetched. And yet, everything they'd been able to test so far proved they were right about it.
Sinclair began to get excited. What if a native Navajo speaker could make out the meaning, even if the recording didn't pronounce it quite right? Would that be possible? Would it be possible for such a person to work out how the written form corresponded to the modern language? It was worth a try. What they needed was a native speaker who was involved in translating English to Navajo, like the ones working on the Bible translation project. And he knew just the guy, a grandson of one of the original Navajo code-talkers from the Second World War. The man wasn't only trained in graceful translation; that is, getting the meaning of the text in proper context to his people's language, but also in linguistics. If anyone could confirm that the text recorded in the foils was a form of Athabaskan, Joseph Yazzie could.
After that, it would be Daniel's job to lure the man away from his work on the Bible project, and have him train a cadre of assistants. The work on the Tenth Cycle material wasn't even done. They'd have to hire more translators to work on the Eighth Cycle stuff, even if some of the existing employees knew Navajo. Which they didn't. Or, if they had, hadn't recognized it the way it was pronounced on that recording.
"Good ear, Nicholas," he said. "I think I know how we can confirm your hunch."
***
Sinclair's acquaintance, after being vetted by Salome, was intrigued by the question Sinclair put to him. Enough so that he was willing to take a week's leave from his job and come to see this strange artifact that Sinclair described. He'd heard of the Tenth Cycle library and the Rossler Foundation - who hadn't? The hint that another account of an even earlier civilization might be written in a form of his language was astounding.
Even more astounding was that Sinclair had come to him in person, rather than picking up the phone. The trip to Nation headquarters in Window Rock, Arizona wasn't easy by any other means than the private jet in which Sinclair had arrived. No less astounding that he was to travel with Sinclair in the same jet for the trip to Boulder. It all seemed rather cloak and dagger to him, but at the same time, exciting and maybe a lot of fun.
Joseph had grown up on stories of his grandfather's service to his country during World War II, and how the code-talkers had to use simple, unsophisticated words to stand in for the technology of the time. Navajo was a language that hadn't evolved by adopting words from other languages as much as some. Its form would be recognizable now to an ancestor from one hundred years ago, except for the different uses one might put the words to.
For example, his grandfather had used the word for bird to mean airplane, combined with other words to specify what kind of airplane. It was the fact the language had no written form that made it such a good code. The enemy never suspected the communications were being sent in the clear in a language unknown to them. In fact, it had nearly died in his parents' generation, because of the seemingly well-intended practice of fostering Dine children in white homes to assimilate them into mainstream American culture.
It was almost too late when tribal government and social anthropologists agreed it would be a shame to lose their native identity. All that was behind them now. The language was beginning to flourish again, and the rich culture was being preserved by people who appreciated its beauty. There were some who couldn't meld the old ways with modern life, and others who felt that they couldn't be Christian and remain true to their culture. Joseph wasn't one of them. Everything his people's version of history taught him could be taken as a parable, and that's the way he did it.
Like most of his people, Joseph Yazzie strove to walk the Beauty way. It meant being balanced in everything. He no longer had the strong passions of youth, other than his love for his family. But, he remained curious to learn everything he could about the world in which he found himself, and from which he would eventually pass into the next. This seemed like an excellent opportunity.
Yazzie and Sinclair arrived at Foundation headquarters just before noon on a Monday, and immediately put off the examination of the foils in favor of a good lunch of something both the Navajo and the Irishman loved: mutton stew. The seasonings were different at the Irish pub Sinclair took Joseph to, but it was good anyway. Joseph thanked Sinclair politely. He'd declined the beer that Sinclair ordered with his own food, but observed that Sinclair seemed to be able to keep his wits about him despite copious amounts of it.
Once Sinclair declared they'd celebrated their collaboration sufficiently, they returned to his office, where for the first time, Joseph heard the recording. Sinclair hadn't been able to take it with him because of Salome's paranoia, he told Joseph. The latter had no idea who Salome was or why she'd be paranoid, but decided perhaps it was the beer talking.
He listened carefully to the recording. If only... The language scholar in him took over then, and he asked to see the document that helped them decide how to pronounce the words in the text. When he'd done
that, he substituted Latin text with some special characters the new way of writing Navajo used. Then he transliterated the text using his own substitutions, and read it himself, properly pronouncing the glottal stops and other phonology. After the first time, he spoke again, this time adding tonality to some syllables, based on both the pronunciation guide and his own mastery of his tongue.
It was a matter of only an hour or so, but the simple technique convinced him. "This is Athabaskan. Not quite my own form of it, but understandable." Pointing to the text, he continued. "These few words say, "In the beginning."
Sinclair almost dropped the glass of Jameson's he was handing to Nicholas at the time. The older man had wandered in and stopped to wait for Yazzie to finish so they could chat about some ruins Nicholas had excavated within the borders of the Navajo Nation. Sinclair wouldn't have dreamed of depriving him of his reminiscences. All thought of that now fled, though, as Yazzie dropped his bombshell.
"You mean, like Genesis? In the beginning God created...that beginning? Holy shit!"
Joseph smiled. "I haven't read far enough to say. I'm going to have to memorize this notation instead of transliterating it to Navajo text. But I'm confident I can. Now what?"
"Come on, we need to tell Daniel immediately!"
***
For a man now in his late seventies, Sinclair made it difficult for Nicholas to keep up as he practically ran through the halls of the building, Joseph in his wake. Nicholas knew the way, and Sinclair reasoned that he'd catch up soon enough, while he introduced Joseph to Daniel. Joseph was telling Daniel what he'd missed by never visiting Canyon de Chelle and other points of interest in the vast stretch of land that whites called the Navajo reservation when Nicholas arrived a little breathless and sent a glare in Sinclair's direction.
Ignoring it, Sinclair waited only until Daniel had said how much he'd like to see those places before interrupting.
"Daniel, we've got some tremendous news. As you know, Nicholas had a hunch that the language on the Eighth Cycle foils was similar to Navajo. Joseph here has just confirmed it. Daniel, he can read it!" Sinclair was all but doing an Irish jig around the office as what he said sunk in on Daniel.
"You mean..."
"YES!" shouted Sinclair, unable to contain his excitement long enough for Daniel to ask the question. "He can sit down and look at the text and read what it says, just like you or I read English!" Sinclair's enthusiasm was contagious. Nicholas stepped over to pump his old student's hand while Daniel stood with his mouth hanging open.
"Um, that isn't quite accurate," Joseph said, halting Sinclair's celebration and confusing Daniel enough that he sat down.
"Well, what is?" Daniel asked.
"I'll be able to say the text aloud as soon as I've memorized the unfamiliar orthography. It won't take long for me to do that, but I'd say the best methodology would be to develop a computer program that would take the orthography as it exists and transliterate it to Navajo orthography. Then any number of people would be able to read and translate it to English."
Sinclair began to dance again. "Just like Raj did for the Tenth Cycle code, Daniel. Only this is written in the clear. No skip sequences!"
Daniel got up and seized Joseph's hand, shaking it vigorously. "That's brilliant! We've got the right guy for the job. Please, have a seat. I'll get him here right away."
Daniel keyed the intercom for Raj and told him to get there as quickly as possible. Raj arrived within minutes, trailed by Salome, who'd been in Raj's office when the call came through.
"What's going on?" she asked.
Daniel explained, drawing Raj's intense focus immediately. This would be a piece of cake, they agreed. It didn't quite turn out to be that easy, but almost.
Chapter 26 - Our humanitarian cause
Each in their own private offices and connected by secure satellite link, the members of Eligo Rarus were discussing their latest acquisition. A new biotech company, GENT had developed a way to conduct a full human genetic test in a matter of minutes and provide a complete biological profile of a person, including any defects and susceptibility to diseases. The news hadn’t gone public as yet. When it did, it was going to cause a bombshell in the markets.
They had been VERY interested in GENT for some time now. In fact they had invested seed capital into it through one of their hidden companies in the startup phase. That had proved wise when the new technology had been announced in-house. It would give them a head start when the run on shares commenced. They were already, collectively, in a controlling position. While others would take their profit in the run-up, the men and women in this group stood firm. They had plenty of money; what they required was control, and they already had it.
The discussion at hand was how best to exploit that control. An interesting proposal was put forth. They’d never before looked into pathology labs as a worthy investment, because there was no money in them. But now, there was a tie-in between the new testing technology and the medicines and supplements controlled by their pharmaceuticals holdings. That tie-in was the pathology labs that were in the middle of the cycle: test, evaluate, prescribe.
Since there was no money in it anyway, it would also tie in with their humanitarian mission. If they controlled the pathology labs, they could use the results of the GENT genetics testing to determine what, besides the complaint that had brought the patient in to begin with, was wrong or could go wrong because of their DNA. A value-added service, if you will, one of them remarked.
Once they had hooked a person with all his genetic shortcomings and what ailments would befall him, they would be in a position to then sell the medicine and supplements (all of which they already owned) to him. That would be the biggest industry on earth, forget about energy, water, food or any of those. Every human being on earth would want to have the complete medical cycle in one convenient doctor visit.
Before the news about GENT broke, they needed to gain control of the pathology labs; and in this instance, they were after 100% of the industry.
Their financial business concluded, they reviewed the political pies they had a thumb in and learned with satisfaction that everything was going as planned.
Chapter 27 - Another short secret expedition
The program to transliterate the ancient alphabet, or orthography as Joseph called it, into the current Navajo, was very simple. Before returning to Window Rock to recruit some helpers, Joseph confirmed that the program accurately 'spelled' the sounds. The trouble was that some of the words weren't in Joseph's vocabulary. He suspected that if his grandfather had been aware of this text in his day, there would have been fewer birds and fish in the transmissions of the Code Talkers. They would just have to work those words out in context to the best of their ability.
Both Sinclair and Daniel expressed disappointment that it wasn't going to be as easy as they first thought. Nicholas was less surprised, though still disappointed. He had speculated, after all, that some of the language might have been lost in the cataclysm.
Joseph was brought fully into the confidence of the group after his revelation. Clearly, there was a need for as many translators as they could find and spirit quietly into the area. Salome asked Joseph to identify his candidates without speaking to them yet. She would travel to Window Rock and personally do background checks, having persuaded Raj to put her directly in touch with his hackers again. After all, they'd worked well together during the Sword of Cyrus crisis.
When all was in readiness, Salome and Joseph would return with as many as they could fly in the little jet with them, four besides themselves. After that, the others would make their way to Boulder by bus or car, avoiding any notice by people who undoubtedly had their eyes on airline records for any unusual travel activity.
Accordingly, Joseph also took the bus back to Window Rock. Too many visits from that plane would set his people's tongues wagging. Another two weeks passed while he gathered his team, and a third while they got them in place.
It was the first wee
k in July when the project was ready to commence. Most of the Foundation employees were off on Friday, since Independence Day was on the Saturday. Only those who didn't care whether they had a holiday to substitute for the Saturday holiday were there. The Navajo translators had been at work for only the two previous days, and were too excited about their project to stop for a three-day weekend. Joseph, now supervising a dozen young men and women, was proud of his team. As always, he compared their situation to the time when America needed his grandfather's help to win a war. His war would have been Desert Storm, but he had been in college at the time, and it hadn't occurred to him to enlist. When he met young veterans of his people from later conflicts in the Middle East, he was deeply ashamed of not having been a veteran. Now, however, he had a chance to redeem himself, even if this wasn't, strictly speaking, a war.
He remembered well the near-disaster that his new colleagues had forestalled two years ago, when leaked information from this very building resulted in an implacable enemy gaining access to an unimaginably destructive weapon. Joseph and Salome had impressed upon each and every one of his young charges that the same could conceivably happen again if they were careless. As a result, the kids were committed to speaking only Navajo when any were out together in public. And even then in only low tones. Boulder wasn't known as a place of heavy Navajo population, but it didn't hurt to be extra-careful.
So it was that, early in the afternoon of July 3rd, Chooli Begay, a daughter of Joseph's sister, made an important discovery. It was a description of the very facility where the box with the foils had been found, as she determined by the name they'd discovered in earlier translations for the Grand Canyon, Wide Crack in the World. The description proved JR and Robert had seen only a tiny portion of the facility. Chooli took it to her uncle immediately.
"Uncle, is this something Daniel would want to know today?"
The revelation changed Daniel's plans for the weekend.