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Transcriber's Note:

This etext was produced Science Fiction Stories 1953. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.

This etext was produced for Science Fiction Stories 1953. Extensive research did not find any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.

It's well established now that the way you put a question often determines not only the answer you'll get, but the type of answer possible. So ... a mechanical answerer, geared to produce the ultimate revelations in reference to anything you want to know, might have unsuspected limitations.

It's now clear that how you ask a question often shapes not just the answer you receive, but also the kind of answer that's even possible. So... a mechanical answerer, designed to deliver the ultimate insights on any topic you want to learn about, might have unexpected limitations.

Ask A Foolish Question

by ROBERT SHECKLEY

nswerer was built to last as long as was necessary—which was quite long, as some races judge time, and not long at all, according to others. But to Answerer, it was just long enough.

Answerer was made to endure for as long as needed—which was quite a while, by some races' standards, and not long at all, according to others. But to Answerer, it was just the right amount of time.

As to size, Answerer was large to some and small to others. He could be viewed as complex, although some believed that he was really very simple.

As for size, Answerer was large to some and small to others. He could be seen as complex, although some thought he was actually quite simple.

Answerer knew that he was as he should be. Above and beyond all else, he was The Answerer. He Knew.

Answerer knew he was exactly who he was supposed to be. Above everything else, he was The Answerer. He knew.

Of the race that built him, the less said the better. They also Knew, and never said whether they found the knowledge pleasant.

Of the race that created him, it's best not to say much. They also knew, and never revealed whether they found that knowledge enjoyable.

They built Answerer as a service to less-sophisticated races, and departed in a unique manner. Where they went only Answerer knows.

They created Answerer as a service for less-advanced civilizations and left in a distinctive way. Only Answerer knows where they went.

Because Answerer knows everything.

Upon his planet, circling his sun, Answerer sat. Duration continued, long, as some judge duration, short as others judge it. But as it should be, to Answerer.

Upon his planet, circling his sun, Answerer sat. Time went on, long as some measure time, short as others do. But as it was meant to be, for Answerer.

Within him were the Answers. He knew the nature of things, and why things are as they are, and what they are, and what it all means.

Within him were the answers. He understood the nature of things, why things are the way they are, what they are, and what it all means.

Answerer could answer anything, provided it was a legitimate question. And he wanted to! He was eager to!

Answerer could respond to anything, as long as it was a valid question. And he wanted to! He was excited to!

How else should an Answerer be?

How else should someone answering be?

What else should an Answerer do?

What else should someone answering do?

So he waited for creatures to come and ask.

So he waited for beings to come and ask.

"How do you feel, sir?" Morran asked, floating gently over to the old man.

"How are you feeling, sir?" Morran asked, gliding gently over to the elderly man.

"Better," Lingman said, trying to smile. No-weight was a vast relief. Even though Morran had expended an enormous amount of fuel, getting into space under minimum acceleration, Lingman's feeble heart hadn't liked it. Lingman's heart had balked and sulked, pounded angrily against the brittle rib-case, hesitated and sped up. It seemed for a time as though Lingman's heart was going to stop, out of sheer pique.

"Better," Lingman said, attempting to smile. The lack of weight was a huge relief. Even though Morran had burned a ton of fuel to reach space with minimal acceleration, Lingman's weak heart hadn’t appreciated it. It had protested and sulked, pounded angrily against his fragile ribcage, hesitated, and then raced faster. For a while, it felt like Lingman's heart might actually stop, purely out of frustration.

But no-weight was a vast relief, and the feeble heart was going again.

But feeling weightless was a huge relief, and the weak heart started beating again.

Morran had no such problems. His strong body was built for strain and stress. He wouldn't experience them on this trip, not if he expected old Lingman to live.

Morran didn’t have those issues. His strong body was made to handle strain and stress. He wouldn’t face them on this trip, not if he wanted old Lingman to survive.

"I'm going to live," Lingman muttered, in answer to the unspoken question. "Long enough to find out." Morran touched the controls, and the ship slipped into sub-space like an eel into oil.

"I'm going to live," Lingman murmured, responding to the unspoken question. "Long enough to find out." Morran adjusted the controls, and the ship glided into sub-space like an eel slipping into oil.

"We'll find out," Morran murmured. He helped the old man unstrap himself. "We're going to find the Answerer!"

"We'll find out," Morran whispered. He helped the old man unbuckle himself. "We're going to find the Answerer!"

Lingman nodded at his young partner. They had been reassuring themselves for years. Originally it had been Lingman's project. Then Morran, graduating from Cal Tech, had joined him. Together they had traced the rumors across the solar system. The legends of an ancient humanoid race who had known the answer to all things, and who had built Answerer and departed.

Lingman nodded at his younger partner. They had been reassuring each other for years. Originally, it had been Lingman's project. Then Morran, fresh out of Cal Tech, joined him. Together, they had followed the rumors throughout the solar system. The stories of an ancient humanoid race that had known the answers to everything and had built Answerer before leaving.

"Think of it," Morran said. "The answer to everything!" A physicist, Morran had many questions to ask Answerer. The expanding universe; the binding force of atomic nuclei; novae and supernovae; planetary formation; red shift, relativity and a thousand others.

"Think about it," Morran said. "The answer to everything!" As a physicist, Morran had a lot of questions to ask Answerer. The expanding universe, the force that holds atomic nuclei together, novae and supernovae, how planets form, redshift, relativity, and thousands more.

"Yes," Lingman said. He pulled himself to the vision plate and looked out on the bleak prairie of the illusory sub-space. He was a biologist and an old man. He had two questions.

"Yeah," Lingman said. He leaned over to the vision plate and gazed out at the desolate prairie of the illusory sub-space. He was a biologist and an older man. He had two questions.

What is life?

What is death?

fter a particularly-long period of hunting purple, Lek and his friends gathered to talk. Purple always ran thin in the neighborhood of multiple-cluster stars—why, no one knew—so talk was definitely in order.

After a really long time of hunting purple, Lek and his friends came together to chat. Purple was always scarce in the area of multiple-cluster stars—no one knew why—so a conversation was definitely needed.

"Do you know," Lek said, "I think I'll hunt up this Answerer." Lek spoke the Ollgrat language now, the language of imminent decision.

"Do you know," Lek said, "I think I'll track down this Answerer." Lek spoke the Ollgrat language now, the language of quick decisions.

"Why?" Ilm asked him, in the Hvest tongue of light banter. "Why do you want to know things? Isn't the job of gathering purple enough for you?"

"Why?" Ilm asked him, in the light-hearted tone of banter. "Why do you want to know more? Isn’t collecting purple enough for you?"

"No," Lek said, still speaking the language of imminent decision. "It is not." The great job of Lek and his kind was the gathering of purple. They found purple imbedded in many parts of the fabric of space, minute quantities of it. Slowly, they were building a huge mound of it. What the mound was for, no one knew.

"No," Lek said, still speaking the language of a decision that was about to happen. "It is not." The main task of Lek and his kind was to gather purple. They discovered purple embedded in various parts of the fabric of space, tiny amounts of it. Gradually, they were constructing a massive pile of it. What the pile was for, nobody knew.

"I suppose you'll ask him what purple is?" Ilm asked, pushing a star out of his way and lying down.

"I guess you'll ask him what purple is?" Ilm asked, moving a star out of his way and lying down.

"I will," Lek said. "We have continued in ignorance too long. We must know the true nature of purple, and its meaning in the scheme of things. We must know why it governs our lives." For this speech Lek switched to Ilgret, the language of incipient-knowledge.

"I will," Lek said. "We've been in the dark for too long. We need to understand the true nature of purple and what it really means in the grand scheme of things. We need to find out why it controls our lives." For this speech, Lek switched to Ilgret, the language of emerging knowledge.

Ilm and the others didn't try to argue, even in the tongue of arguments. They knew that the knowledge was important. Ever since the dawn of time, Lek, Ilm and the others had gathered purple. Now it was time to know the ultimate answers to the universe—what purple was, and what the mound was for.

Ilm and the others didn't attempt to argue, even with their words. They understood that the knowledge was vital. Since the beginning of time, Lek, Ilm, and the others had collected purple. Now it was time to discover the ultimate answers about the universe—what purple was and what the mound was for.

And of course, there was the Answerer to tell them. Everyone had heard of the Answerer, built by a race not unlike themselves, now long departed.

And of course, there was the Answerer to inform them. Everyone knew about the Answerer, created by a race not so different from their own, who had long since vanished.

"Will you ask him anything else?" Ilm asked Lek.

"Are you going to ask him anything else?" Ilm asked Lek.

"I don't know," Lek said. "Perhaps I'll ask about the stars. There's really nothing else important." Since Lek and his brothers had lived since the dawn of time, they didn't consider death. And since their numbers were always the same, they didn't consider the question of life.

"I don't know," Lek said. "Maybe I'll ask about the stars. There's really nothing else that matters." Since Lek and his brothers had been around since the beginning of time, they didn't think about death. And since their numbers never changed, they didn't think about the question of life.

But purple? And the mound?

But purple? And the hill?

"I go!" Lek shouted, in the vernacular of decision-to-fact.

"I’m going!" Lek shouted, expressing his determination.

"Good fortune!" his brothers shouted back, in the jargon of greatest-friendship.

"Good luck!" his brothers shouted back, in the language of best friends.

Lek strode off, leaping from star to star.

Lek walked away, jumping from star to star.

Alone on his little planet, Answerer sat, waiting for the Questioners. Occasionally he mumbled the answers to himself. This was his privilege. He Knew.

Alone on his small planet, Answerer sat, waiting for the Questioners. Occasionally he mumbled the answers to himself. This was his privilege. He knew.

But he waited, and the time was neither too long nor too short, for any of the creatures of space to come and ask.

But he waited, and the time was neither too long nor too short for any of the creatures of space to come and ask.

here were eighteen of them, gathered in one place.

there were eighteen of them, gathered in one place.

"I invoke the rule of eighteen," cried one. And another appeared, who had never before been, born by the rule of eighteen.

"I call upon the rule of eighteen," shouted one. And another showed up, who had never before existed, created by the rule of eighteen.

"We must go to the Answerer," one cried. "Our lives are governed by the rule of eighteen. Where there are eighteen, there will be nineteen. Why is this so?"

"We need to go to the Answerer," one shouted. "Our lives are governed by the rule of eighteen. Where there are eighteen, there will be nineteen. Why is that?"

No one could answer.

No one had an answer.

"Where am I?" asked the newborn nineteenth. One took him aside for instruction.

That left seventeen. A stable number.

That left seventeen. A solid number.

"And we must find out," cried another, "Why all places are different, although there is no distance."

"And we need to figure out," shouted another, "why all places are different, even though there’s no distance."

That was the problem. One is here. Then one is there. Just like that, no movement, no reason. And yet, without moving, one is in another place.

That was the issue. One moment you’re here, and the next you’re there. Just like that—no movement, no explanation. And yet, without actually moving, you find yourself in a different place.

"The stars are cold," one cried.

"The stars are cold," one shouted.

"Why?"

"We must go to the Answerer."

"We need to go to the Answerer."

For they had heard the legends, knew the tales. "Once there was a race, a good deal like us, and they Knew—and they told Answerer. Then they departed to where there is no place, but much distance."

For they had heard the legends and knew the stories. "Once there was a race, very much like us, and they knew—and they told the Answerer. Then they went to a place that doesn’t exist, but is far away."

"How do we get there?" the newborn nineteenth cried, filled now with knowledge.

"How do we get there?" the newly born nineteenth asked, now filled with knowledge.

"We go." And eighteen of them vanished. One was left. Moodily he stared at the tremendous spread of an icy star, then he too vanished.

"We're leaving." And eighteen of them disappeared. One was left. He sulkily stared at the vast expanse of a cold star, then he too vanished.

"Those old legends are true," Morran gasped. "There it is."

"Those old legends are real," Morran said, breathless. "There it is."

They had come out of sub-space at the place the legends told of, and before them was a star unlike any other star. Morran invented a classification for it, but it didn't matter. There was no other like it.

They had emerged from sub-space at the location the legends spoke of, and before them was a star unlike any other. Morran created a classification for it, but it didn't matter. There was nothing else like it.

Swinging around the star was a planet, and this too was unlike any other planet. Morran invented reasons, but they didn't matter. This planet was the only one.

Swinging around the star was a planet, and this one was unlike any other planet. Morran came up with reasons, but they were irrelevant. This planet was the only one.

"Strap yourself in, sir," Morran said. "I'll land as gently as I can."

"Hold on tight, sir," Morran said. "I'll do my best to land smoothly."

Lek came to Answerer, striding swiftly from star to star. He lifted Answerer in his hand and looked at him.

Lek approached Answerer, walking quickly from star to star. He picked up Answerer in his hand and examined him.

"So you are Answerer," he said.

"So you’re the Answerer," he said.

"Yes," Answerer said.

"Yes," the Answerer said.

"Then tell me," Lek said, settling himself comfortably in a gap between the stars, "Tell me what I am."

"Then tell me," Lek said, getting comfy in a space between the stars, "Tell me what I am."

"A partiality," Answerer said. "An indication."

"A bias," Answerer said. "A sign."

"Come now," Lek muttered, his pride hurt. "You can do better than that. Now then. The purpose of my kind is to gather purple, and to build a mound of it. Can you tell me the real meaning of this?"

"Come on," Lek said quietly, feeling his pride wounded. "You can do better than that. So, here's the deal. The purpose of my kind is to collect purple and to create a mound of it. Can you explain the real meaning behind this?"

"Your question is without meaning," Answerer said. He knew what purple actually was, and what the mound was for. But the explanation was concealed in a greater explanation. Without this, Lek's question was inexplicable, and Lek had failed to ask the real question.

"Your question doesn't make sense," Answerer said. He understood what purple really was and what the mound was for. But the answer was hidden in a bigger answer. Without this, Lek's question was impossible to understand, and Lek hadn't asked the real question.

Lek asked other questions, and Answerer was unable to answer them. Lek viewed things through his specialized eyes, extracted a part of the truth and refused to see more. How to tell a blind man the sensation of green?

Lek asked more questions, but Answerer couldn't provide the answers. Lek saw things through his specialized perspective, picked out a piece of the truth, and refused to see beyond that. How do you explain the feeling of green to a blind person?

Answerer didn't try. He wasn't supposed to.

Answerer didn't try. He wasn't meant to.

Finally, Lek emitted a scornful laugh. One of his little stepping-stones flared at the sound, then faded back to its usual intensity.

Finally, Lek let out a dismissive laugh. One of his little stepping-stones brightened at the sound, then returned to its normal intensity.

Lek departed, striding swiftly across the stars.

Lek left, walking quickly across the stars.

Answerer knew. But he had to be asked the proper questions first. He pondered this limitation, gazing at the stars which were neither large nor small, but exactly the right size.

Answerer knew. But he had to be asked the right questions first. He thought about this limitation, looking at the stars that were neither large nor small, but just the right size.

The proper questions. The race which built Answerer should have taken that into account, Answerer thought. They should have made some allowance for semantic nonsense, allowed him to attempt an unravelling.

The right questions. The race that created Answerer should have considered this, Answerer thought. They should have factored in some semantic nonsense, letting him try to untangle it.

Answerer contented himself with muttering the answers to himself.

Answerer was satisfied just to mumble the answers to himself.

ighteen creatures came to Answerer, neither walking nor flying, but simply appearing. Shivering in the cold glare of the stars, they gazed up at the massiveness of Answerer.

Eighteen creatures came to Answerer, neither walking nor flying, but simply appearing. Shivering in the cold light of the stars, they looked up at the enormity of Answerer.

"If there is no distance," one asked, "Then how can things be in other places?"

"If there’s no distance," one asked, "then how can things exist in other places?"

Answerer knew what distance was, and what places were. But he couldn't answer the question. There was distance, but not as these creatures saw it. And there were places, but in a different fashion from that which the creatures expected.

Answerer understood what distance was and what places were. But he couldn't respond to the question. There was distance, but not in the way these beings perceived it. And there were places, but in a different way than the beings anticipated.

"Rephrase the question," Answerer said hopefully.

"Rephrase the question," the Answerer said hopefully.

"Why are we short here," one asked, "And long over there? Why are we fat over there, and short here? Why are the stars cold?"

"Why are we short here," one asked, "and tall over there? Why are we big over there, and short here? Why are the stars cold?"

Answerer knew all things. He knew why stars were cold, but he couldn't explain it in terms of stars or coldness.

Answerer knew everything. He understood why stars were cold, but he couldn't put it into words using stars or coldness.

"Why," another asked, "Is there a rule of eighteen? Why, when eighteen gather, is another produced?"

"Why," another asked, "Is there a rule of eighteen? Why is it that when eighteen come together, another is created?"

But of course the answer was part of another, greater question, which hadn't been asked.

But of course the answer was part of another, bigger question that hadn’t been asked.

Another was produced by the rule of eighteen, and the nineteen creatures vanished.

Another was created by the rule of eighteen, and the nineteen creatures disappeared.

Answerer mumbled the right questions to himself, and answered them.

Answerer muttered the right questions to himself and responded.

"We made it," Morran said. "Well, well." He patted Lingman on the shoulder—lightly, because Lingman might fall apart.

"We made it," Morran said. "Well, well." He patted Lingman on the shoulder—gently, since Lingman might fall apart.

The old biologist was tired. His face was sunken, yellow, lined. Already the mark of the skull was showing in his prominent yellow teeth, his small, flat nose, his exposed cheekbones. The matrix was showing through.

The old biologist was exhausted. His face was hollow, yellow, and wrinkled. The outline of his skull was already visible through his prominent yellow teeth, his small, flat nose, and his sunken cheekbones. The underlying structure was showing through.

"Let's get on," Lingman said. He didn't want to waste any time. He didn't have any time to waste.

"Let's go," Lingman said. He didn't want to waste any time. He didn't have time to waste.

Helmeted, they walked along the little path.

Helmeted, they walked along the narrow path.

"Not so fast," Lingman murmured.

"Not so fast," Lingman said.

"Right," Morran said. They walked together, along the dark path of the planet that was different from all other planets, soaring alone around a sun different from all other suns.

"Right," Morran said. They walked together along the dark path of the planet that was unlike any other, orbiting alone around a sun that was different from all the others.

"Up here," Morran said. The legends were explicit. A path, leading to stone steps. Stone steps to a courtyard. And then—the Answerer!

"Up here," Morran said. The legends were clear. A path that led to stone steps. Stone steps to a courtyard. And then—the Answerer!

To them, Answerer looked like a white screen set in a wall. To their eyes, Answerer was very simple.

To them, Answerer resembled a white screen embedded in a wall. To them, Answerer seemed very straightforward.

Lingman clasped his shaking hands together. This was the culmination of a lifetime's work, financing, arguing, ferreting bits of legend, ending here, now.

Lingman pressed his trembling hands together. This was the result of a lifetime's work—funding, debating, uncovering pieces of legend—culminating right here, right now.

"Remember," he said to Morran, "We will be shocked. The truth will be like nothing we have imagined."

"Remember," he told Morran, "We’re going to be shocked. The truth will be nothing like we’ve imagined."

"I'm ready," Morran said, his eyes rapturous.

"I'm ready," Morran said, his eyes glowing with excitement.

"Very well. Answerer," Lingman said, in his thin little voice, "What is life?"

"Alright. Answerer," Lingman said in his thin little voice, "What is life?"

A voice spoke in their heads. "The question has no meaning. By 'life,' the Questioner is referring to a partial phenomenon, inexplicable except in terms of its whole."

A voice echoed in their minds. "The question is meaningless. When the Questioner mentions 'life,' they are talking about a partial phenomenon, which can only be explained in relation to its entirety."

"Of what is life a part?" Lingman asked.

"What's life a part of?" Lingman asked.

"This question, in its present form, admits of no answer. Questioner is still considering 'life,' from his personal, limited bias."

"This question, as it stands, has no answer. The questioner is still thinking about 'life' from his own narrow perspective."

"Answer it in your own terms, then," Morran said.

"Answer it in your own words, then," Morran said.

"The Answerer can only answer questions." Answerer thought again of the sad limitation imposed by his builders.

"The Answerer can only answer questions." The Answerer reflected once more on the unfortunate restriction set by his creators.

Silence.

Quiet.

"Is the universe expanding?" Morran asked confidently.

"Is the universe expanding?" Morran asked with confidence.

"'Expansion' is a term inapplicable to the situation. Universe, as the Questioner views it, is an illusory concept."

"'Expansion' is a term that doesn't fit the situation. The universe, as the Questioner sees it, is just an illusion."

"Can you tell us anything?" Morran asked.

"I can answer any valid question concerning the nature of things."

"I can answer any legitimate question about the nature of things."

he two men looked at each other.

"I think I know what he means," Lingman said sadly. "Our basic assumptions are wrong. All of them."

"I think I get what he’s saying," Lingman said sadly. "Our basic assumptions are all wrong."

"They can't be," Morran said. "Physics, biology—"

"Partial truths," Lingman said, with a great weariness in his voice. "At least we've determined that much. We've found out that our inferences concerning observed phenomena are wrong."

"Partial truths," Lingman said, his voice filled with weariness. "At least we've figured that out. We've discovered that our conclusions about the observed phenomena are incorrect."

"But the rule of the simplest hypothesis—"

"It's only a theory," Lingman said.

"It's just a theory," Lingman said.

"But life—he certainly could answer what life is?"

"But life—he could definitely tell what life is?"

"Look at it this way," Lingman said. "Suppose you were to ask, 'Why was I born under the constellation Scorpio, in conjunction with Saturn?' I would be unable to answer your question in terms of the zodiac, because the zodiac has nothing to do with it."

"Think of it like this," Lingman said. "Imagine you were to ask, 'Why was I born under the sign of Scorpio, alongside Saturn?' I wouldn't be able to answer your question in terms of the zodiac, because the zodiac has nothing to do with it."

"I see," Morran said slowly. "He can't answer questions in terms of our assumptions."

"I get it," Morran said slowly. "He can't answer questions based on our assumptions."

"That seems to be the case. And he can't alter our assumptions. He is limited to valid questions—which imply, it would seem, a knowledge we just don't have."

"That seems to be true. And he can't change our assumptions. He's restricted to valid questions—which suggests, it appears, a knowledge we simply don't possess."

"We can't even ask a valid question?" Morran asked. "I don't believe that. We must know some basics." He turned to Answerer. "What is death?"

"We can’t even ask a real question?" Morran asked. "I don’t buy that. We need to know some basics." He turned to Answerer. "What is death?"

"I cannot explain an anthropomorphism."

"I can’t explain anthropomorphism."

"Death an anthropomorphism!" Morran said, and Lingman turned quickly. "Now we're getting somewhere!"

"Death is an anthropomorphism!" Morran said, and Lingman turned quickly. "Now we're onto something!"

"Are anthropomorphisms unreal?" he asked.

"Are anthropomorphisms fake?" he asked.

"Anthropomorphisms may be classified, tentatively, as, A, false truths, or B, partial truths in terms of a partial situation."

"Anthropomorphisms can be categorized, somewhat tentatively, as A, false truths, or B, partial truths based on a specific situation."

"Which is applicable here?"

"Which applies here?"

"Both."

That was the closest they got. Morran was unable to draw any more from Answerer. For hours the two men tried, but truth was slipping farther and farther away.

That was the closest they got. Morran couldn't pull any more from Answerer. For hours, the two men tried, but the truth kept slipping further and further away.

"It's maddening," Morran said, after a while. "This thing has the answer to the whole universe, and he can't tell us unless we ask the right question. But how are we supposed to know the right question?"

"It's frustrating," Morran said after a while. "This thing has the answer to the entire universe, and it can't tell us unless we ask the right question. But how are we supposed to know what that question is?"

Lingman sat down on the ground, leaning against a stone wall. He closed his eyes.

"Savages, that's what we are," Morran said, pacing up and down in front of Answerer. "Imagine a bushman walking up to a physicist and asking him why he can't shoot his arrow into the sun. The scientist can explain it only in his own terms. What would happen?"

"Savages, that's what we are," Morran said, pacing back and forth in front of Answerer. "Imagine a bushman approaching a physicist and asking why he can't shoot his arrow into the sun. The scientist can only explain it using his own framework. What would happen?"

"The scientist wouldn't even attempt it," Lingman said, in a dim voice; "he would know the limitations of the questioner."

"The scientist wouldn't even try," Lingman said, in a low voice; "he would understand the limits of the person asking."

"It's fine," Morran said angrily. "How do you explain the earth's rotation to a bushman? Or better, how do you explain relativity to him—maintaining scientific rigor in your explanation at all times, of course."

"It's fine," Morran said angrily. "How would you explain the earth's rotation to a bushman? Or better yet, how would you explain relativity to him—while keeping scientific accuracy in your explanation at all times, of course."

Lingman, eyes closed, didn't answer.

Lingman, eyes shut, stayed silent.

"We're bushmen. But the gap is much greater here. Worm and super-man, perhaps. The worm desires to know the nature of dirt, and why there's so much of it. Oh, well."

"We're bushmen. But the gap is much bigger here. Worm and superman, maybe. The worm wants to understand what dirt is and why there’s so much of it. Oh, well."

"Shall we go, sir?" Morran asked. Lingman's eyes remained closed. His taloned fingers were clenched, his cheeks sunk further in. The skull was emerging.

"Shall we go, sir?" Morran asked. Lingman's eyes stayed closed. His taloned fingers were clenched, his cheeks sunk even deeper. The skull was starting to show.

"Sir! Sir!"

"Hey! Hey!"

And Answerer knew that that was not the answer.

And Answerer knew that wasn’t the answer.

lone on his planet, which is neither large nor small, but exactly the right size, Answerer waits. He cannot help the people who come to him, for even Answerer has restrictions.

lone on his planet, which is neither big nor small, but just the right size, Answerer waits. He can't help the people who come to him, because even Answerer has limits.

He can answer only valid questions.

He can only answer valid questions.

Universe? Life? Death? Purple? Eighteen?

Universe? Life? Death? Purple? 18?

Partial truths, half-truths, little bits of the great question.

Partial truths, half-truths, small pieces of the big question.

But Answerer, alone, mumbles the questions to himself, the true questions, which no one can understand.

But the Answerer, alone, mutters the questions to himself, the real questions that no one can comprehend.

How could they understand the true answers?

How could they grasp the real answers?

The questions will never be asked, and Answerer remembers something his builders knew and forgot.

The questions will never be asked, and the Answerer recalls something his creators knew and forget.

In order to ask a question you must already know most of the answer.

In order to ask a question, you need to already know most of the answer.

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