The old man turned back to Myron and Gwin.
"Of course the boy can learn. He's not stupid."
Eric bounced the ball, flung it against the transparent glass, caught it, bounced it again.
"But how, Walden?" Gwin shook her head. "You offer to teach him, but—"
Walden smiled. "Remember these?"
... Walden's study. The familiar curtains drawn aside, and the shelves behind them. The rows of bright-backed, box-like objects, most of them old and spotted, quite unhygienic ...
Gwin shook her head at the perception, but Myron nodded.
"Books. I didn't know there were any outside the museums."
Walden smiled again. "Only mine. Books are fascinating things. All the knowledge of a race, gathered together on a few shelves...."
"Knowledge?" Myron shrugged. "Imagine storing knowledge in those—boxes. What are they? What's in them? Just words...."