Free Terminal by Brian Williams Page B

that’s why they left me and my father alone,’ he said.
    â€˜That’s correct,’ Jürgen confirmed. ‘As for this tribesman, he was smuggled into my institute several weeks before theplague hit, and I couldn’t just abandon him. I didn’t know if he was vulnerable to it too.’
    â€˜We found a few of them dead in the jungle,’ Will said.
    â€˜Werner thought that might be the case. Most vertebrates are susceptible. And the tribesmen’s physiology beneath those radically different epidermal layers is essentially the same as ours,’ Jürgen said.
    Elliott didn’t seem convinced by this. ‘They’re human?’ she asked. ‘They don’t look it.’
    But Will’s mind was teeming with questions. ‘You said that you’ve been working with them? On what, exactly?’
    â€˜The origins of their civilisation, the pyramids and the ruined city,’ Jürgen replied. ‘Progress has been slow because communication with them is so rudimentary. You see those drawings on the table in front of him?’
    Will and Elliott peered at the sheets of paper covered with pictures, similar to the pictograms carved on the exterior of the pyramids. ‘Hieroglyphs?’ Will asked.
    â€˜Yes. Right from the start, we figured out that it was the best way to have any sort of meaningful exchange. You see, their language is very basic … very limited.’
    â€˜My dad was able to talk to them, but it didn’t get us anywhere,’ Will said, remembering the moment inside the pyramid.
    â€˜That’s why this tribesman was at the institute, to make recordings. We’d made the breakthrough that they communicate with each other using a whole other set of sounds which are barely audible to the human ear. It’s …’
    â€˜It’s sort of high-pitched, like a buzzing noise,’ Will cut in.
    Jürgen nodded. ‘That’s absolutely right.’
    â€˜And it’s even more difficult to hear because they move atthe same time … they rustle,’ Will said, then fell silent as he stared into the middle distance. He still felt bitterness towards the bushmen about the way they had treated him and Dr Burrows. ‘I picked up on it when they took us prisoner – just before they shopped us to the Styx.’
    Jürgen turned to him. ‘You know, the bushmen weren’t … aren’t your enemy. They don’t want to get involved in anyone else’s conflicts. If they gave you up to the invaders, then it was because they believed they had to in order to protect their pyramid. That’s what they do. That’s all they do. They protect their pyramids. Endless generations have been the guardians … the caretakers of something they don’t seem to really understand.’ Jürgen went to the observation window and held up his hand to the bushman, who held up one of his, although it resembled a bundle of twigs.
    Will noticed that there were pieces of his skin scattered all around where he was sitting, like shredded leaves. ‘What’s that by his feet?’ he asked.
    â€˜Their epidermal layer – their thick skin – is an evolutionary adaptation. It’s both camouflage and a screen against the sun’s harmful rays. But in here, away from the sunlight, the outermost layer isn’t necessary, and some of it begins to dry up and slough off.’
    Jürgen was obviously keen to show Will and Elliott to their rooms, and began to edge along the corridor, but Will was lost in his thoughts and oblivious to this. As Elliott took him by the arm to get him moving, he said, ‘I’d love to know what you’ve learnt from these people.’
    â€˜I’d be very happy to take you through …’ Jürgen said, tailing off as his son appeared. The boy thrust something into Will’s hand before running off again. It was a brightly-65coloured lollipop that rotated on