Mimsy were the borogoves download

The abacus don't they give people tests with such things? And say! There's a guy going to speak at the university next week, fellow named Holloway, who's a child psychologist. He's a big shot, with quite a reputation. He might know something about it.

I don't-" "Rex Holloway. He's hm-m-m! He doesn't live far from here. Do you suppose he might have had these things made himself? She grimaced and drew back. But see if you can find out, Denny. He was vaguely worried. But he wasn't scared yet. Rex Holloway was a fat, shiny man, with a bald head and thick spectacles above which his thick, black brows lay like bushy caterpillars.

Paradine brought him home to dinner one night a week later. Holloway did not appear to watch the children, but nothing they did or said was lost on him. His gray eyes, shred and bright, missed little. The toys fascinated him. In the living room the three adults gathered around the table, where the plaything had been placed. Holloway studied them carefully as he listened to what Jane and Paradine had to say.

At last he broke his silence. But not completely. This is very disturbing, you know. Holloway's next words did not calm them. Ever read Hughes' 'High Wind in Jamaica'? Holloway extended a hand, took it, and flipped the pages till he had found the place he wanted. He read aloud "'Babies of course are not human - they are animals, and have a very a very ancient and ramified culture, as cats have, and fishes, and even snakes; the same in kind as these, but much more complicated and vivid, since babies are, after all, one of the most developed species of the lower vertebrates.

In short, babies have minds which work in terms and categories of their own which cannot be translated into the terms and categories of the human mind.

Over his shoulder he said, "You're theorizing quite a bit, aren't you? As I get it, you're implying that babies have a culture of their own, even a high standard of intelligence. There's no yardstick, you see. All I say is that babies think in other ways than we do.

Not necessarily better that's a question of relative values. But with a different manner of extension-" He sought for the words, grimacing. But it's quite enough! It can whip up batter and potatoes, but I can squeeze oranges, too.

The brain's a colloid, a very complicated machine. We don't know much about its potentialities. We don't even know how much it can grasp.

But it is known that the mind becomes conditioned as the human animal matures. It follows certain familiar theorems, and all thought thereafter is pretty well based on patterns taken for granted. Look at this. But those crazy angles-" "Your mind has been conditioned to Euclid," Holloway said. But a child knows nothing of Euclid. A different sort of geometry from ours wouldn't impress him as being illogical.

He believe what he sees. But a child especially a baby might see more. Not at first. It'd be a puzzle, of course. Only a child wouldn't be handicapped by too many preconceived ideas. Paradine was not convinced. No, I don't mean that. I can see your point, more or less clearly. Only-" "Well, look. Let's suppose there are two kinds of geometry we'll limit it, for the sake of the example.

Our kind, Euclidean, and another, which we'll call x. It's based on different theorems. Two and two needn't equal four in it; they could equal y, or they might not even equal. A baby's mind is not yet conditioned, except by certain questionable factors of heredity and environment. Start the infant on Euclid-" "Poor kid," Jane said. Holloway shot her a quick glance. Alphabet blocks. Math, geometry, algebra they come much later. We're familiar with that development.

On the other hand, start the baby with the basic principles of our x logic. What kind? But we've been conditioned to Euclid. You're not limiting to math. I'm not limiting it at all. How can I? I'm not conditioned to x logic. It'd take such a person to make the sort of toys you apparently think these are. You see, Paradine, we've got yardstick trouble again. By our standards these people might seem super-doopers in certain respects. In others they might seem moronic.

It's not a quantitative difference; it's qualitative. They think different. And I'm sure we can do things they can't. Paradine tapped the fused gadgetry on the box. It implies-" "A purpose, sure. In space, or even time. I don't know; I'm a psychologist. Unfortunately I'm conditioned to Euclid, too. Scott said there were people in that cube when he first looked.

I asked him what was in it now. His exact words. I asked him who people? But he couldn't explain. How long have the children had these toys?

The perfect toy, you see, is both instructive and mechanical. It should do things, to interest a child, and it should teach, preferably unobtrusively. Simple problems at first.

Later-" "X logic," Jane said, white faced. Paradine cursed under his breath. He fingered the doll. Induction doesn't help a great deal, though. Too many factors are missing. We can't visualize a world based on the x factor environment adjusted to minds thinking in x patterns. This luminous network inside the doll. It could be anything. It could exist inside us, though we haven't discovered it yet. When we find the right stain-" He shrugged.

Then Emma started to play with it. No particular pattern of motion. They had to be educated up to it. Emma is probably quicker at understanding x than Scott, for her mind isn't yet conditioned to this environment. Paradine said, "But I can remember plenty of things I did as a child. Even as a baby. The arbitrary standard of sanity. But it seems to me you're making a great deal of it from very little. After all, these toys-" "I am a psychologist, and I've specialized in children.

I'm not a layman. These toys mean a great deal to me, chiefly because they mean so little. I'd like to examine the children. But they're not guinea pigs. I'm not a Frankenstein.

To me the individual is the prime factor naturally, since I work with minds. If there's anything wrong with the youngsters, I want to cure them. That's all I can say. If the undeveloped minds have been turned into the x channel, it's necessary to divert them back. I'm not saying that's the wisest thing to do, but it probably is from our standards.

After all, Emma and Scott will have to live in this world. I can't believe there's much wrong. They've no reason for acting abnormally, have they? And how can you tell if they think differently? I don't want them to be on guard.

Holloway said, "Leave the stuff there, eh? He managed to draw Scott unobtrusively into the conversation, dropping key words now and then. The most interesting development occurred when Holloway took up the abacus.

Like this-" He slid a bead deftly through the maze, in a tangled course, so swiftly that no one was quite sure whether or not it ultimately vanished. It might have been merely legerdemain. Then, again- Holloway tried. Scott watched, wrinkling his nose. It's gotta go there-" "Here? There was no apparent reason why the bead should slide from this particular wire to the other. It looked like a random factor.

Also, Holloway suddenly noticed, this wasn't the path the bead had taken previously, when Scott had worked the puzzle. At least, as well as he could tell. Holloway blinked through his glasses. Random, yes. And variable. Scott moved the bead along a different course each time. Somehow, none of the adults could tell whether or not the bead vanished. If they had expected to see it disappear, their reactions might have been different. In the end, nothing was solved.

Holloway, as he said good night, seemed ill at ease. You still think-" He nodded. They're not dull at all, but I've the most extraordinary impression that they arrive at conclusions in a way we don't understand. AS though they used algebra while we used geometry. The same conclusions, but a different method of reaching it. I'd like to borrow them, if I may-" That night Paradine slept badly.

Holloway's parallel had been ill-chosen. It led to disturbing theories. The x factor The children were using the equivalent of algebraic reasoning, while adults used geometry. Fair enough. Only- Algebra can give you answers that geometry cannot, since there are certain terms and symbols which cannot be expressed geometrically. Suppose x logic showed conclusions inconceivable to an adult mind?

Jane stirred beside him. Can't you sleep either? Emma slept peacefully as a cherub, her fat arm curled around Mr. Through the open doorway Paradine could see Scott's dark head motionless on the pillow. Jane was beside him. He slipped his arm around her. I think we're the ones who are crazy, Dennis. We've got the jitters. Without awakening, he called what was obviously a question, though it did not seem to be in any particular language.

Emma gave a little mewling cry that changed pitch sharply. She had not awakened. The children lay without stirring. But Paradine though, with a sudden sickness in his middle, it was exactly as though Scott had asked Emma something, and she had replied. Had their minds changed so that even sleep was different to them? He thrust the thought away. Let's get back to bed. Want a drink? Her hand reached out blindly toward the child; she drew it back.

We'll wake the kids. Jane cried in her sleep, later. Scott was not awake, but his mind worked in slow, careful building. Thus- "They'll take the toys away. The fat man listava dangerous maybe. But the Ghoric direction won't show evankrus dun-hasn't-them. Intrasdection bright and shiny. She's more khopranik-high now than I still don't see how to thavarar lizery dist-" A little of Scott's thoughts could still be understood.

But Emma had become conditioned to x much faster. She was thinking, too. Not like an adult or a child. Not even like a human. Except, perhaps, a human of a type shockingly unfamiliar to genus homo. Sometimes Scott himself had difficulty in following her thoughts. If it had not been for Holloway, life might have settled back into an almost normal routine.

The toys were no longer active reminders. Emma still enjoyed her dolls and sand pile, with a thoroughly explicable delight. Scott was satisfied with baseball and his chemical set. They did everything other children did, and evinced few, if any, flashes of abnormality. But Holloway seemed to be an alarmist. He was having the toys tested, with rather idiotic results. He drew endless charts and diagrams, corresponded with mathematicians, engineers, and other psychologists, and went quietly crazy trying to find rhyme or reason in the construction of the gadgets.

The box itself, with its cryptic machinery, told nothing. Fusing had melted too much of the stuff into slag. But the toys- It was the random element that baffled investigation. Even that was a matter of semantics. For Holloway was convince that it wasn't really random. There just weren't enough known factors. No adult could work the abacus, for example. And Holloway thoughtfully refrained from letting a child play with the thing. The crystal cube was similarly cryptic. It showed a mad pattern of colors, which sometimes moved.

In this it resembled a kaleidoscope. But the shifting of balance and gravity didn't affect it. Again the random factor. Or, rather, the unknown. The jaws that bite, the claws that catch! Beware the Jubjub bird, To connect with Mimsy Were The Borogoves book. Strange things they were, too. Miniature people, for example. They moved, like clockwork automatons, though much more smoothly. It was rather like watching a play. Scott was interested in their costumes, but fascinated by their actions.

The tiny people were deftly building a house. Scott wished it would catch fire, so he could see the people put it out. Flames licked up from the half-completed structure. The automatons, with a great deal of odd apparatus, extinguished the blaze. But he was a little worried. The manikins would obey his thoughts. Scott was not awake, but his mind worked in slow, careful building. The fat man—listava dangerous, maybe. In-transdection—bright and shiny.

But Emma had become conditioned to x much faster. She was thinking, too. Not like an adult or a child. Not even like a human being. Except, perhaps, a human being of a type shockingly unfamiliar to genus Homo.

This short tale gives us an insight on Lewis Carrol's strange poem of how to travel to other places Enjoy! Poems for Kids. Poetry for Teens.

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This poem is in the public domain. Lewis Carroll The Walrus and the Carpenter The sun was shining on the sea, Shining with all his might: He did his very best to make The billows smooth and bright— And this was odd, because it was The middle of the night. The Crocodile How doth the little crocodile Improve his shining tail, And pour the waters of the Nile On every golden scale!

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