Trade World Saga 1: Manual Interpretation Read Online Free Page A

equipment designs dated back to the 30’s or ‘40s…1930s and 1940s…certainly not 2070.
    "How does it function?" Rett asked again.
    Andrew paused to consider his surroundings and this line of questioning and decided it was wiser to answer.
    "It tells the time, receives weather and emergency broadcasts, reminds me of important dates and appointments, and helps me in laboratory work with its index of research data and formulas in several branches of science and engineering. It links me through the Net at the University, pays my expense like meals or supplies I need for school. Sometimes I even talk with it but most of the time, it's pretty predictable," Andrew said.
    "Then it is a receiver that connects you to a library, computation center. You contact the center through this device and it receives their replies," Rett stated feeling more confident. "It is very compact, where is the speaker? So you are still in training?” The statement seemed derogatory.
    Andrew put his chin in his hand while he pondered this revelation. If this guy is an alien, then he used some pretty advanced technology to get here. How advanced do we want to appear to be to this dude?
    Andrew considered Earth’s' many tries at planetary exploration in the Solar system and thought how poorly they compared to interstellar travel.
    This guy also has an interesting teaching method. Thinking of food and water after that teaching machine only produced visions of nauseating foods and drinks...funny, how thinking of food only makes me thirsty and then nauseated by visions of atrocious food dishes and aliens eating. It's pretty fast, much faster than our training machines; maybe that's why I have a headache.
    "How does it make sound?" Rett insisted.
    Andrew was shaken out of his reverie and realized he'd been daydreaming even in this bizarre setting.
    Though Andrew couldn't detect anger in this language yet, he could understand volume and realized this being was disturbed. Andrew replied on impulse. "It uses a ‘Rimloff f-effect solid-state ionization’ speaker. None of the technical jargon brought up phrases or pictures in the native’s language except ionization…curious. By the way, my name's Andrew. " The " Andrew " sounded odd while speaking this strange language. Maybe this Me Tarzan , You Jane routine will distract him from the fact that molecular electronics may be something these fellows don't have.
    "What is your name?" Andrew asked the alien.
    Rett was horrified. Certainly this... ...this beast wasn't asking him his name. How disgusting to ask another your name when you meet, and there was no question other than that is what this being meant. Rett was revolted even though he knew intellectually that customs varied even in his own culture.
    "Solid-state means all the parts are encased and don't move around," Andrew improvised. "What's your name?" Andrew queried again.
    Only Rett's self-control and superiority over this native kept him from rending the native limb-from-limb at this point.
    Andrew noticed that the alien had stiffened but wondered at the lack of response to his question. Maybe he didn't have a name but had a number. No, name was very clear in its meaning in this language now that I think about it. Maybe I ought to see about getting away from here.
    Rett was thinking... since this device is just a more compact receiver than our devices, it is of no real advance to me. This native is becoming a burden…especially with its disgusting habits. Imagine when I gave it some water; it drank it right while I was watching. I did have a perverse curiosity about its habits though. Now I shall determine its level of progress. At least, it is acting sane.
    "Do you know what a stressed space-field is?" Rett asked.
    Andrew was preparing to say no when the flood of associative data and pictures flooded into his mind. Apparently, thinking of a word or concept would bring pictures of equipment or fairly complex explanations of that concept into his