“I have plenty of money—I saved the amount I would have spent raising a blind daughter,” said Philologist Wheaton dryly. “And if I start running low, you can skip into the future, avoid a few meals, right?”
“Not with any precision,” said Noxon. “And we need time to assess the situation here in order to figure out how to prevent the destruction of my world.”
“I wonder if I’m going to have trouble deciding whose side I’m on,” said Philologist Wheaton. “I mean, maybe they have a good reason for attacking your world.”
“Not attacking,” said Noxon. “Garden has no defenses whatsoever. It’s global destruction of an unresisting enemy.”
“Except here you are, resisting.”
“Right of self-defense,” said Ram Odin.
“You aren’t defending yourself,” said Philologist Wheaton to Ram. “You’re from here.”
“But the planet Garden is full of my family,” said Ram Odin. “Descended from my twin brothers.”
“Defense of family,” said Anthropologist Wheaton. “A basic principle of anthrope survival from the beginning.”
“I’m against genocide in principle,” said Philologist Wheaton. “I’m just saying, there might be two sides to the story.”
“That’s why we didn’t send Earth a one-hundred-percent-fatal plague,” said Noxon cheerfully. “That’s why I came in person. To find out the other side.”
“You have the toxins to wipe out life on Earth?” asked Philologist Wheaton.
“Not with me,” said Noxon. “But I do know where to find a couple of dozen sentient mice who I’m sure know exactly how to re-engineer the virus.”
“So you’re the most dangerous person in the world,” said Philologist Wheaton.
“I come to bring peace, not the sword,” said Noxon. “I believe the reason for colonizing Garden was so the human race would be on two separate worlds. That way a single asteroid strike couldn’t wipe out the species. But the first thing Earth does is wipe out the spare world. I certainly don’t want to return the favor. I want to understand what it is about us humans that we can’t stand to coexist. Especially when there are so many lightyears between us.”
“Built into the anthrope genome,” said Anthropologist Wheaton.
“Can you say anything that doesn’t refer to your expertise in anthropology?” asked Philologist Wheaton.
“It always seems appropriate,” said Anthropologist Wheaton. “It enlightens every moral discussion.”
“I wish that saving young Deborah and her parents hadn’t wiped out your entire career as an anthropologist,” said Philologist Wheaton. “I doubt you’d think my many publications in linguistics and mythology are sufficient compensation.”
“Nor would his publications in anthropology make up for the loss of yours,” said Deborah, interrupting before her adoptive father could answer in what would certainly have been a nonconciliatory tone.
Anthropologist Wheaton smiled benignly. “I do have some vids you might like to see, completely vindicating some of my more speculative articles.”
“I’d like to read the articles first,” said Philologist Wheaton. “That way I’ll understand better what I’m seeing.”
“And I did love philology in my youth. Influenced by Tolkien, I’m afraid—didn’t need more orcs and elves, just wanted more Old Mercian than we got from the Riders of Rohan.”
Deborah explained to Noxon about Tolkien. “Some consider his Lord of the Rings to be the greatest work of fiction in the English language. I think there are a couple of worthier contenders, but Lord of the Rings is certainly the greatest work of fiction by a philologist.”
Both her father and his twin laughed uproariously at that.
“For a blind girl you sure see clearly,” said Anthropologist Wheaton.
“And for an anthropologist, you’re sure insensitive to other people’s feelings,” said Deborah, just as cheerfully.
“Oh, I’m deeply sensitive to every nuance,” said her father.
“You just don’t care?” asked Noxon.
“I just want to get a reaction I can learn from,” said Anthropologist Wheaton.