"
He had expected an explosion; he wasn't disappointed. They all
contradicted him, many derisively. Signal reactions. Only Paul
Meillard made the semantically appropriate response:
"What do you mean, Mark?"
"They don't _hear_ sound; they _feel_ it. You all saw what they have
inside their combs. Those things don't transmit sound like the ears
of any sound-sensitive life-form we've ever seen. They transform
sound waves into tactile sensations."
Fayon cursed, slowly and luridly. Anna de Jong looked at him
wide-eyed. He finished his cocktail and poured another. In the
snooper screen, what looked like an indignation meeting was making
uproar in the village plaza. Gofredo cut the volume of the speaker
even lower.
"That would explain a lot of things," Meillard said slowly. "How
hard it was for them to realize that we didn't understand when they
talked to us. A punch in the nose feels the same to anybody. They
thought they were giving us bodily feelings. They didn't know we
were insensible to them."
"But they do ... they do have a language," Lillian faltered.
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