They Opened a Book They Could Not Read

“This book is telling the truth!” Sugita Genpaku ran through Edo, clutching a book. That morning, Genpaku, Maeno Ryotaku, and Nakagawa Jun'an had examined the inside of a human body. The pictures they had trusted were different from the real body—but the pictures in this Dutch book matched it astonishingly well.

“I want doctors in Japan to be able to read this book.” Back in the room, Genpaku opened it at once. But the pages were filled with unfamiliar letters, and there was no dependable dictionary. Even Ryotaku, who had studied the most Dutch, could read only a little. The true pictures were right in front of them—yet their words could not reach anyone.

Genpaku hugged the book to his chest. “I want other doctors to see these pictures as soon as possible.” Ryotaku quietly shook his head. “Pictures are not enough. One wrong word could teach the wrong body.” Jun'an looked at the book between them. “We want to share it—but not share a mistake.” All three wanted the same thing.

The pictures they had trusted were different from the body they had seen that day. If nothing changed, the truth about the human body would not spread. But if they hurried to translate words they could not read, they might spread a new mistake. No dictionary. Only a few known words. No idea how long it might take. The room fell silent.

“Should we wait until we have a dictionary?” “Or begin with the first word we understand?” Two paths lay before them. Waiting might reduce mistakes, but the truth about the body would not spread in the meantime. Starting now might share it sooner—but they could get something wrong. Which path would you take?