The story opens with a blunt statement: the first two expeditions to Mars found no Martians. The third does, and the encounter unfolds not through elaborate technology but through a chalkboard-like exchange in red desert sand. Fontenay quickly establishes a pattern of action and reaction: the human crew, nervous and under orders, falls back on an "antiquated gimmick"—the Pythagorean theorem—as a universal language. The Martians respond in kind, drawing five lines beside the triangle's hypotenuse. This moment, precise and understated, sets the stage for a narrative that tests whether shared mathematics can truly bridge alien minds.

Geometry as First Contact

Fontenay builds the initial contact around a single geometric figure. Von Frisch, the engineer, squats and draws a right triangle in the sand, marking two sides with three and four lines. A Martian immediately completes the figure by adding five lines along the hypotenuse. The scene is spare: no elaborate gestures, no spoken language, just a shared theorem. The narrator notes that Von Frisch "did his best" with the only method he knew, and the Martians appear "friendly enough, and interested." This reliance on a mathematical universal—the Pythagorean theorem—echoes real historical proposals for interstellar communication, such as the use of prime numbers or geometric shapes. Fontenay, however, does not dwell on theory; he lets the drawing speak. The sand becomes a temporary blackboard, and the act of drawing and erasing shapes the rhythm of the scene.

The Shifting Ground of Understanding

After the triangle, Von Frisch draws a diagram of the solar system: a sun with rays, four concentric orbits, and small circles for planets. He points to the third planet, then himself and his companions, then to the fourth planet and the Martians. The logic seems clear, but the story quickly complicates this clarity. The narrator interjects that "nobody was ready when the time came" and that the crew fell back on "that antiquated gimmick." This self-aware framing suggests that the geometric method, while successful in eliciting a response, may be too simplistic. The Martians' quick grasp of the theorem raises questions: do they understand the same mathematics, or are they merely mimicking? Fontenay leaves the answer ambiguous, using the sand drawings as both a bridge and a potential barrier. The scene shifts from the diagram to the Martians' physical appearance—"big heads with big eyes and ears"—and back to the captain's urgent questions, creating a tension between visual and verbal communication.

Movement Between Desert and Ship

The narrative moves between two locations: the open desert where the Martians approach, and the distant G-boat where Captain Powers fires questions via radio. This spatial split mirrors the communication gap. In the desert, Von Frisch draws in sand; at the ship, Powers demands immediate answers: "Are they intelligent? Are they civilized? How do they breathe?" The captain's rapid-fire queries contrast with the slow, deliberate drawing. Fontenay uses this back-and-forth to highlight the difficulty of translating visual symbols into verbal reports. The Martians are described in fragments—"pipestem arms and legs," "round bodies not much bigger than a child's"—as if the humans can only process one detail at a time. The desert setting, with its "red desert sand," becomes a neutral ground where both species attempt to find common symbols, while the ship represents the hierarchical command structure that pressures the encounter.

Recurring Images of Drawing and Erasing

Throughout the excerpt, the act of drawing and erasing recurs. Von Frisch "hesitated a moment, then erased the triangle" before drawing the solar system. This erasure is not just practical; it suggests that each diagram is tentative, subject to revision. The Martians, too, participate in this cycle: they draw, observe, and presumably erase. Fontenay does not describe the Martians' tools—they use "a long finger"—but the impermanence of sand drawings underscores the fragility of the communication. The story's title, "Communication," thus takes on a double meaning: the successful exchange of information and the potential for misunderstanding when that exchange is based on fleeting marks. The sand itself is a recurring image, appearing whenever the characters attempt to convey meaning. It is both a medium and a metaphor, grounding the abstract concept of communication in a tangible, ephemeral act.

Fontenay's story rewards attention to small gestures: the hesitation before erasing, the choice of a triangle over other shapes, the way the Martians' bodies are described in mechanical terms. Readers may find it useful to track each instance of drawing and erasing, noting what is included and what is left out. The incomplete excerpts leave the resolution unclear, but the patterns established in the opening scenes—geometry, sand, and the tension between visual and verbal—offer a framework for interpreting the rest of the narrative.