Muezzinland Read Online Free PDF

can't read or write." She turned to Gmoulaye. "You can't, either."
    "Why should I need to read or write?"
    Nshalla returned to the librarian. "Um… do you have anything in pictographic symbolic? I can't read or…"
    The librarian smiled. "That small section in the centre of the hall."
    A circular bookcase two metres high and stacked with a few hundred books greeted the disappointed Nshalla. She found the history section and pulled out a volume at random. The pictsym was spidery, but artistically done, though Nshalla noted the regularity of marks that showed a machine had pictsymed it. Nothing about Muezzinland, however. Nor did the next volume mention Muezzinland, nor the next.  Eventually, at the end of the section, she came across a Coca le Cola World Atlas, edges pummelled from decades of use, but clean enough inside. There was a chapter on fables. Taking the book to a table, she went through this chapter. It was easy to follow; transputer pictsym lacked identity, lacked flair. It was like following scientific reports. She had to turn the sound off, however, since it confused her. Aphrican pictsym was always accompanied by tonal phonemes.
    "Any use?" Gmoulaye asked.
    "I'm just wading through a chapter about legends, myths, old stories. Ah! Muezzinland."
    "What does it say?"
    "Let me see." Nshalla followed the paragraph, but emerged disappointed at the end. "It's to the north. That's really all it says."
    Bored, Gmoulaye drifted away, her attention caught by local drummers sending messages. Nshalla considered her position, then returned to the librarian. "Not much help," she said. She gestured to the plastic bound volumes on the main shelves, saying, "These old books, they'd mention Muezzinland. Would you be able to translate for me if anything could be found?"
    The librarian breathed in, then exhaled slowly. "Possibly, possibly. What is this Muezzinland?"
    "A country, or so I believe. My sister's gone there and I have to find her. You haven't seen her, have you? She might have come here."
    "What does she look like?"
    Nshalla grimaced. "Lots of red hair."
    The librarian shook her head. "However, if your sister knew where to go then the country must be locatable. All we can do now is go to where the transputer first led you."
    Some hours then passed as the librarian searched through dusty volumes, but at noon Nshalla began to realise that the old woman was becoming irritated with her lack of success. She sighed. "There's nothing, I'm afraid. The likelihood is that the name was orally created and orally transmitted, probably quite recently. It doesn't seem to have been written anywhere."
    Nshalla whimpered. "Isn't there anything we can do?"
    "There is one last option."  She walked over to an eye and plugged in one of the transputer studs on her bangle. "This will connect me to the transputer pool in the economics quarter." She sent her requests, then led Nshalla back to her desk. There a giant screen glowed with pictsym.
    The symbols were variations around some basic theme. "What are we looking at?" Nshalla asked, not recognising anything.
    "These are transputer generated variations on the theme of muezzin," the librarian replied. "Look at the symbol without trying to understand it. What image does it represent?"
    Nshalla looked. The basic theme seemed to be circular, with dots, short lines, and a gouge in one side. "A fruit?"
    "A head?" countered the librarian.
    They came to no firm conclusion, but the idea of visually interpreting the pictsym variations gave Nshalla an idea. She waved to Gmoulaye.
    "Play Gmoulaye the phoneme accompaniment," she told the librarian. This was done. "Do you recognise anything?" Nshalla asked her friend.
    Gmoulaye hesitated. "Possibly… it is not a musical snatch I recognise, but it has a certain feel, a barren quality, perhaps. Are those the graphics?"
    "Yes."
    "But they are singers."
    As Gmoulaye said this the image slipped into Nshalla's mind. Of course. Each symbol was an upturned head