“Fine,” Soltan said.

“I’d also suggest not telling Dr. Chen why he’s been called,” Holloway said. “Let him experience the video clean.” “Yes, all right,” Soltan said, irritated. “Any more suggestions on how I should do my job, Mr. Holloway? Or are you done now?” “Apologies, Your Honor,” Holloway said.

Soltan eyed Holloway sourly and then turned to Meyer. “Are you finished with this expert?” Soltan asked.

“I have nothing more to say to Mr. Holloway,” Meyer said. She eyed Holloway like he was a bug.

“Mr. Holloway, you are excused,” Soltan said. “We’ll take a fifteen-minute break while my clerks retrieve Dr. Chen.” She got up and went to her chambers. Meyer packed up her notes, flung them at her assistant, and stormed out of the court, assistant scrambling to catch up. Holloway noted that Landon had disappeared as well, no doubt to catch up his boss on the events of the day.

Holloway got out of the stand and was surprised to find Isabel in front of him. “Hello,” he said.

Isabel very suddenly gave him a large hug. Holloway stood there and took it, surprised; it had been a while since he had more physical contact with her than a polite peck on the cheek. Indeed, when Isabel stopped hugging him, she planted a kiss on his cheek that was more than polite. It was actually friendly.

“Apology accepted,” she said, stepping back. Sullivan by now had come up behind her.

“Well, good,” Holloway said. “Because if you didn’t accept that one, I would have given up.” “Thank you, Jack,” Isabel said. “In all honesty and sincerity, thank you.” “Don’t thank me yet,” Holloway said. “If it turns out the fuzzys are actually people, I’m going to be broke and out of a job, and then me and Carl are showing up on your doorstep.” “I’ll be sure to give Carl a good home,” Isabel said.

“Oh, nice,” Holloway said, and looked over to Sullivan. “You see how far good deeds get you in this life,” he said to him. Sullivan smiled but said nothing. He looked distracted. Isabel gave Holloway another quick peck and then did the same to Sullivan before leaving the courtroom.

Holloway turned his attention to Sullivan. “I’m out of the doghouse,” he said.

“If only you had managed it while the two of you were still dating,” Sullivan said.

“Yes, well,” Holloway said. “Let my misfortune be your example, Mark.”

“Jack, you and I need to talk,” Sullivan said.

“Is this about Isabel?” Holloway asked.

“No, not about Isabel,” Sullivan said. “It’s about everything else.”

“That’s a lot,” Holloway said. “I don’t think we have time to cover everything else besides Isabel in the next five to ten minutes.” “No, we don’t,” Sullivan said. “Let’s you and I go have a talk at the end of this little farce.” “Farce?” Holloway said, mock shocked. “This is a sober application of judicial wisdom.” Sullivan cracked a smile at this. “I don’t mind admitting to you that this is going differently than I expected,” he said.

“I don’t think you’re the only one thinking that at the moment,” Holloway said.

*

Dr. Chen was ushered into the courtroom by one of Soltan’s clerks. The xenolinguist looked confused, and depending on one’s observational inclinations, either freshly awoken from a nap or slightly drunk.

“Dr. Arnold Chen?” Judge Soltan asked.

“Yes?” Chen said.

“We are calling you to give testimony on a video that concerns a subject you are knowledgeable about,” Soltan said.

“This is about the other night, isn’t it?” Chen said. “I admit I drank too much, but I didn’t have anything to do with the rest of what went on.” “Dr. Chen, what are you talking about?” Judge Soltan said, after a minute.

“Oh, nothing,” Chen said, hastily.

Soltan peered at Chen. “Have you been drinking today, Dr. Chen?”

“No,” Chen said. He looked embarrassed. “I was, um.”

Soltan looked over at her clerk. “He was asleep at his desk when I found him,” said the clerk.

“Late night, Dr. Chen?” Soltan said.

“A bit, yes,” Chen admitted.

“But you are able to think right now?” Soltan asked. “Your brain processes are not currently compromised by alcohol or any other drug, recreational or pharmaceutical?” “No, ma’am,” Chen said. “Your Honor. Um.”

“Have a seat at the witness stand, Dr. Chen,” Soltan said. Chen took a seat. Soltan glanced over at Holloway. “You’re up, Mr. Holloway,” she said.

Holloway stood and borrowed Isabel’s infopanel once more, and opened a pipe between it and the monitor. “Dr. Chen, I’m going to show you a video,” Holloway said. “Don’t worry, the events of the other night aren’t on it.” Chen looked at Holloway blankly.

“Just watch the video and give us your impressions of it as it goes along,” Holloway said. He queued up the video of Papa, Mama, and Grandpa Fuzzy eating the bindi.

“What are those?” Chen asked, looking at the still image. “Are those monkeys? Cats?” “You’ll see,” Holloway said, and started the video.

Chen watched for a minute, thoroughly confused. Then it was like a 50,000-watt light went on in his head.

Chen looked up at Holloway. “Can I?” he asked, motioning to the infopanel. Holloway glanced at Soltan, who nodded. He handed the infopanel to Chen. The xenolinguist grabbed it and reversed the video and played the first parts again. He turned up the volume to hear better. He moved the video back and forth for several minutes.

Finally he looked up at Holloway. “You know what they’re doing,” Chen said.

“You tell me, Dr. Chen,” Holloway said.

“They’re talking!” Chen said. “My god. They’re really talking.” He looked back at the monitor. “What are these things? Where did you find them?” “Are you sure they’re talking?” Meyer asked from her table.

“Well, no, I’m not one hundred percent sure,” Chen said. “I’m just going from what you’re showing me here. I’d need to see much more to be certain. But, look—” He paused the video and backed it up slightly, and ran it again. “Listen to what they’re doing here. It’s phonologically varied but it’s not random.” “What does that mean?” Holloway asked.

“Well, look,” Chen said. Whatever sleepiness he’d had in him was well and truly shaken off now. “Take birdsongs. They repeat with very little variation. Phonologically they’re very consistent. They’re not what we typically consider language. Language uses a limited number of phonological forms—phonemes—but then it uses them in an almost infinite number of combinations, according to the morphology of the language. So, varied but not random.” Chen pointed to the conversing fuzzys. “What these little guys are doing is like that. If you listen, you can hear certain forms used over and again. Here—” Chen moved the video to another portion, where Papa Fuzzy was speaking. “—that tche- sound. It comes up a lot, but it’s joined to other sounds as well. Just like we use particular phonemes over and again, particularly ones that represent vowel forms in our language.” “So this is a vowel?” Holloway asked.

“Maybe,” Chen said. “Or maybe a prefix, since just listening here it always seems to precede other sounds. I couldn’t tell you what it means or represents.” “So it could just be noises they make,” Meyer said. “Like a cat’s meow. Or a birdsong.” “Well, neither cats nor birds vocalize just to vocalize,” Chen said, sounding slightly snotty. Holloway grinned. After years of having not a goddamn thing to do, Dr. Chen’s brain was back with a vengeance. “And no, I don’t think so. Your cat has a different sound for ‘I’m hungry’ and ‘I want out of the house’ but its vocabulary is not what you would call complex nor does the sound in itself convey complex meaning. Same with birdsongs. What these creatures are doing—the variation but apparently within a system—suggests that the sounds are words in themselves.” Chen looked up. “Is there more video?” “Lots more,” Holloway said.

Chen looked like a kid getting a puppy for Christmas. “Excellent,” he said.