Bigtooth lifted Yi Yi to his eye level; Yi Yi could even hear the gululu of the dinosaur’s giant eyeballs turning in their sockets. “Bug-bug, in this universe, the standard measure of any race’s level of civilization is the number of dimensions it can access. The basic requirement for joining civilization at large is six or more. Our esteemed god’s race can already access the eleventh dimension. The Devouring Empire can access the fourth dimension in small-scale laboratory environments, and only qualifies as a primitive, uncivilized tribe in the Milky Way. You, in the eyes of a god, are in the same category as weeds and lichen.”

“Throw it away already, it’s disgusting,” the god urged impatiently.

Having finished speaking, Bigtooth headed for the incinerator’s aperture. Yi Yi struggled frantically. Numerous pieces of white paper fluttered loose from his clothing. The sphere shot out a needle-thin beam of light, hitting one of the sheets, which froze unmoving in midair. The beam scanned rapidly over its surface.

“Oh my, wait, what’s this?”

Bigtooth allowed Yi Yi to dangle over the incinerator’s aperture as he turned to look at the sphere.

“That’s … my students’ homework!” Yi Yi managed laboriously, struggling in the dinosaur’s giant claw.

“These squarish symbols are very interesting, and the little arrays they form are quite amusing too,” said the god. The sphere’s beam of light rapidly scanned over the other sheets of paper, which had since landed on the plane.

“They’re Ch-Chinese characters. These are poems in Classical Chinese!”

“Poems?” the god exclaimed, retracting its beam of light. “I trust you understand the language of these insects, Emissary?”

“Of course, esteemed god. Before the Devouring Empire ate Earth, we spent a long time living on their world.” Bigtooth set Yi Yi down on the plane next to the incinerator, bent over, and picked up a sheet of paper. He held it just in front of his eyes, trying with effort to distinguish the small characters on it. “More or less, it says—”

“Forget it, you’ll distort the meaning!” Yi Yi waved a hand to interrupt Bigtooth.

“How so?” asked the god interestedly.

“Because this is a form of art that can only be expressed in Classical Chinese. Even translating these poems into other human languages alters them until they lose much of their meaning and beauty.”

“Emissary, do you have this language in your computer database? Send me the relevant data, as well as all the information you have on Earth history. Just use the communications channel we established during our last meeting.”