Word: Grok

grok

[grok] Slang.

verb (used with object)

1. to understand thoroughly and intuitively.

verb (used without object)

2. to communicate sympathetically.

***********************************

    A small crowd was already gathering with the promise of a match.  Video game matches rarely 
happened in such small stores, after all.  Sure, people would play and compete, but those were all 
friendly competitions.  This was something else. This was a game with stakes. Nobody but the 
players knew what the stakes were, but they were there.

One of the players, a pale teenager who looked like he never left his room, smirked as he took
up a controller.  The other, a guy in his early 20’s who looked like he worked out a lot, but ate 
even more took up the other with a calm, emotionless expression.

“You know, this game is already over.” The teen said.  “I already know that I’ll win, 100%.”

His fingers worked the controls, navigating through the menus and selecting the appropriate 
options.  

“You want to know why I’ll win?” The boy asked.  “Because I know this game. I know it back to
front, in and out, forward and backward.  I know every move and combo of every character. I 
know every secret, trick and special.  I know every single thing about this game. You should 
just give up now, ‘cause you’ve got no chance of beating me.”

The young man gave no indication he even heard the taunts of his opponent.  He simply 
selected his character and waited for the younger player to do the same.

“That’s who you’re going with?” The boy scoffed.  “Man you don’t know anything. He’s the 
worst character.  Seriously, nobody plays him. He’s got lousy combos, no ranged moves, and 
no power.  Sure he’s quick, but there’s so many better speed guys out there. As in, all of them.
  All of them are better. Here, I’ll show you.” The boy confidently chose his character.  “There,
 see? This guy’s way better. Everyone knows it. Much better combos and a lot more power 
than yours does.  Yeah, you should just give up now.”

The only response he got was an eye roll.  The teen hit the start button, and the match was on.
The boy started off with utmost confidence. His fingers flew over the controller, hitting the 
combos he knew by heart.  His smirk quickly faded as his opponent gained the upper hand 
almost immediately. It was a lead that only grew as the seconds ticked by, until finally the 
round ended.

“That’s bull!” The teen yelled.  “There’s no way you could’ve won.  You must be cheating. Or 
this controller is busted.  That’s how you did it, isn’t it? You must’ve slipped me a bad controller.
Let’s switch controllers before the next match.” The boy demanded.

The young man had no problems with that, and so the switch was made.  The second round 
started, and ended the same way. The match now over, the young man placed his controller 
down and faced his stunned opponent.

“No.  No way.  That’s impossible.  There’s no way you could’ve beat me.  I know everything 
about this game.”

“How much did you play?” The victor asked.

“What?”
    “How much did you play?”

“I don’t know, a few hours?  I don’t need to play with everything I’ve watched and studied though.
  Now spill, how’d you win? Did you do the same thing as me?”

“No.  I only play this one character.”

“Then how’d you win?  Did you cheat? You must’ve cheated.  I mean, I know everything about 
every character.  How could I lose to someone who only uses one?”

“I play.  I practice.  I’ve logged over a hundred hours on this one character.  That’s how I won.”

**************************************

"I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times."

--Bruce Lee  

Word: Booklore

booklore

or book lore

[boo k-lawr]

noun

1. facts and information about books, especially about authors and circumstances of publication.

2. book learning.

*********************************************

Bis was nudged awake after much too short a time.  He looked up at Dr. Gevin with an annoyed
 look. The older man was too giddy to notice.

“I guess the scrubbers are done?” Bis asked.

“Naturally.  Now come on, we have much to see.” The doctor said quickly.

Without waiting for his student, Dr. Gevin ran into the freshly cleaned room.

The room was larger than Bis would have thought for something so deep underground.  It was 
simply furnished with things that he did not know, but could guess at. One was long, squat and
 rectangular, with some kind of cushion covering its surface.  He assumed it was a type of
 bedding system.

A pair of objects that he guessed we're a desk and chair sat along one wall.  The desk was 
clear of objects, and Bis was not sure whether that was because the former owner of the room
had left it that was, or if the scrubbers had gotten a bit too zealous.

But what dominated the room by far were the shelves.  The walls were covered with them, and 
all were full. The objects on the shelves seemed to be made of some kind of processed plant 
fiber, sported words on them and had probably once been quite colorful.

“Look at it.” Dr. Gevin said breathlessly.  “Isn't it amazing? An almost perfectly preserved 
shelter from the mid 21st century.  Amazing. Truly amazing.”

Bis went up to one of the shelves.  Instead of touching the no doubt fragile objects, he lowered 
his scope visor and used the data feed to study them.

“What are these?” He asked.

“Books, my boy, books.  Don't you remember? I talked about them in class.”

Bis thoughts about it.  After that and a quick digital reminder, he said “Right, books.  Paper 
objects used to record information that remained popular even after the advent of digital 
technology.”

“Exactly.  These books will give us insight into our ancestor’s lives.  Their culture, their thoughts.
We’ve never seen so many books, so well preserved.  This is true marvel.”

“What language is this?”

“English.  It was the predominant language back before the Grand Unification.  Your scope 
should have all needed translation systems in place already.”

Bis found the language system quickly enough and began to look them over.

“Harry Potter.” He read out loud.  “Who's he?”

Dr. Gevin came over and looked at the faded titles.

“I don't know, but I’ve seen his name before.  Many ancient ruins with intact writing have his 
name somewhere.  Not all, but many. We assume he was some kind of major political figure.  
And a big one, seeing as he had eight books written about him. Oh I can't wait to get these 
scanned and start reading them.”

Bis nodded and continued to look around.  There was one shelf with books all containing a 
single word with a number.

“What's a naruto?” He asked.  “And why does it need so many books?”

Dr. Gevin hummed as he consulted his scope’s data reserves.

“It looks like a type of Japanese fish dish.  I suppose that would make those Oriental cookbooks.
Fascinating. I would never have guessed we’d get insight into 21st century diets here.  Keep 
looking. It seems like you have good luck in finding all the best treasures. I’ll keep searching 
for the other rooms.”

Nothing else really caught Bis’ eye as he searched, so he picked one at random.

“50 Shades of Grey?”

“Probably an art book.” Dr. Gevin said as he fiddled with his scope to search for hidden doors.

Bis looked at another long row of colorful books in surprise.  “Hey, I thought the 21st century 
people were messy.”

“As far as we know.”

“Then why are there more than 70 books about a single cleaning supply?”

Dr. Gevin looked over his shoulder with his hands still probing a wall.  “What?”

“There’s 74 numbered books all about bleach.”

“Hm.  Well, imagine that.”

Bis was about to finish looking over the books and help examine the structure when he saw 
something that made him freeze.  “I thought the 21st century was pre-space travel.”

“It was.”

“Then why is there a guide on galactic travel?  And proof that other species were here a lot 
earlier than we thought.”

That brought Dr. Gevin over to him.  Bis pointed out the two books in question, Hitchhiker’s 
Guide to the Galaxy and The Zombie Survival Guide.

“Well now, that is interesting.” Dr. Gevin said.  “The Zombie delegation will be interested in the 
second one.  They say they didn’t get to this section of space until the 25th century.  I wonder 
what the truth is.”

“I’m more interested in that survival guide part.  I mean, the Zombies are, like, the nicest species
out there.  Why would anyone need a survival guide for them?”

“I guess we’ll find out later.” Dr. Gevin paused a moment, then approached one of the few areas 
of the wall that was not covered by a shelf.  “Here we go.” He said as he pressed an otherwise 
normal looking section of the wall.

The wall slid away with a heavy grinding sound.  A circular hatch was revealed, showing another
section of the shelter.

“Now then, let’s get to exploring.” The old doctor said.  “These books are a treasure trove of 
history, but there’s so much more to see.”

**************************

I guess everything in the future in non fiction. That's kind of sad. But the fact that zombies are real is cool, even if they're actually aliens and not the undead. Still cool.

Word: Astroturfing

Astroturfing

[as-truh-turf-ing]

noun

1. the act or process of installing Astroturf on a surface.

2.(usually lowercase) the deceptive tactic of simulating grassroots support for a product, cause, etc., undertaken by people or organizations with an interest in shaping public opinion:

In some countries astroturfing is banned, and this includes sponsored blog posts.

*****************************

An increasing amount of neighbors were gathering around the suburban home.  They were all watching
the owner working in his yard. The onlookers muttered in mixtures of confusion and amusement.  

    The owner huffed and puffed as he worked a shovel into the ground.  He tore up an chunk of grass 
and tossed it into an ever growing pile of dirt and grass.  He was covered with sweat and dirt, and his 
brow was furrowed with determination.

    One of the onlookers went forward and asked the question every member of the crowd was thinking.

    “Hey, Bob.  What, uh, what’re you doing there?”

    “What’s it look like I’m doing, Phil?” Bob said through clenched teeth.

    “It looks like you’re tearing up your lawn.”

    “Exactly.” He threw another load of grass onto the pile.

    “Why?”

    Bob took a deep breath and resumed his work.  “Astroturf.” He said.

    “What about it?”

    “I’m converting my entire yard into astroturf.  Good, clean, constant astroturf.”

    Several members of the crowd looked at each other in confusion.  Why would someone turn a 
perfectly good lawn into something artificial like that?

    “Why?”

    “Because astroturf is so much better than grass.  It’s cleaner, it’s easier. You don’t have to water it.  
You don’t have to cut it. You don’t have to worry about it dieing and reseeding it.  Much better.”

    Phil thought about Bob’s words for a bit.  “So, you’re turning your lawn into plastic because you don’t 
want to do yard work anymore?”

    Bob finally stopped shoveling.  He stuck the tip of his shovel into the bare dirt of his yard and leaned 
on it, breathing hard.  “That’s about the long and short of it, yeah. I mean, come on. I do the work now 
and I’ll never have to mow the damn lawn again.  No more having to bother with sprinklers. No more 
thinking about what kind of seed to buy when something eats it. No more pulling out dandelions.  All 
thanks to good, consistent astroturf.”

“But it’s so...so sterile.”

“That’s the point, isn’t it?  Thanks to astroturf, I won’t ever have to worry about the chaos and
 unpredictability of grass.  There’s so much that could go wrong with grass, none of while 
applies to what I’m putting down.”

“But isn’t it expensive?”

“Maybe up front.  But think about it.  No more buying oil and gas for a mower.  No more buying 
grass seed and weed killer.  It’ll save tons over the years. There’s no downside.”

    The other members of the neighborhood muttered to themselves.  Some of them thought 
Bob was crazy. Others were actually thinking he had a point.  

“Okay.” Phil said skeptically.  “If that’s what you want to do, then more power to you.  I just want 
to know one more thing.”

“What is it?” Bob asked.  He took up his shovel once again and resumed removing his hated 
grass.

“Why are you doing this all yourself?  Why not hire some people to do it for you?”

Bob froze in the middle of burying his shovel in the dirt.  He blinked a few times. “You know, 
I’m not really sure.”

********************************

I'd never be able to do this. It seems like a lot of work for relatively little payoff. Plus, I think the real thing looks better than the fake stuff.

Word: Mythoclast

mythoclast

[mith-uh-klast]

noun

1. a destroyer or debunker of myths.

**************************************

    For the first time in what felt like decades, Dr. William Benson was speechless.  There were no words to describe what he was feeling. What he was seeing on the other hand, was quite clear.  It was a humanoid creature roughly three feet in height. It was thin and lanky with four long, spindly fingers.  Its face was shaped like an upside down egg with a small mouth and large, black eyes. It’s skin was stone grey with a few white rings around the eyes, mouth and the small slits that served as a nose.  

    The only thing Dr. Benson could call it was an alien.  An alien that looked almost exactly like the over-used alien image that was so popular in popular culture.  The problem was that such things were impossible. The stuff of urban legends and myths, not something that was real.

    “Hey, Will.” The...creature said.  It’s voice was thin, but not weak. “How’s it going?”

    All Dr. Benson could do was sputter and string together a few incoherent syllables.  

    “That good, eh?”  It said, nodding its too big head.  “I can understand. It’s not every day someone gets to meet a guy with such stellar good looks.” THe alien said, chuckling slightly at its, his, own joke.

    “What...how...what?” Dr. Benson said.

    “Yeah, you’re going to have to give me a bit more than that, buddy.”

    “What...what are you?”

    “Really?  Isn’t it obvious?  I’m an alien. Well, an alien from your POV anyway.  You’d probably call me a Grey, because, well, yeah. Terrible name, by the way. Humanity really needs to get better at naming stuff.  But yeah, if you want to get technical, I’m a Kerinvaxtian. Hm...I guess that doesn’t quite roll off the tongue when said in English, does it?  Okay, I guess Grey will do for now.”

“But...this...this is impossible...you...can’t exist.  I...I’m dreaming, or hallucinating.”

“No, I’m pretty sure I’m real.” the Grey said.

“But...but I’ve spent my life disproving...things like you.  I’ve proven without doubt that you don’t exist.”

“Yeah, I know.  It’s all hilarious, by the way.  I mean it, me and my buds get some real laughs at the stuff you write.  Great stuff.”

“Wh-what?”

“Oh yeah, Phil read the stuff you wrote about him and he couldn’t stop laughing for, like, ten minutes.”

“Phil?”

“You humans call him Bigfoot, or Sasquatch.  He’s not an alien though. 100% Earth born and bred that one.  Nessy’s not though. Comes all the way from Evrivia. Nice place if you like water.”

Dr. Benson felt the sudden urge to sit down.  Everything he had done in his life told him what was happening could not be real.  Aliens, Bigfoot and the Loch Ness Monster were myths. Legends that he had spent his entire professional life debunking and disproving.

And yet, he was seeing one of those beings that he had so thoroughly disproven was standing there and telling him that his works were comedies among other creatures he had completely disproven.  He felt like his mind was about to shatter.

“Yeah, I know, it’s a lot to take in.” THe Grey said.  “I’ll give you a few minutes to collect yourself and come to terms with everything, but after that we’ve kind of got to get down to business.  TIme’s a wastin and all that.”

“What business?”

“Oh nothing too big.  Just saving all of human civilization as you know it.  You know, nothing serious.” 

**************************

 "The surest sign that intelligent life exists elsewhere in the universe is that it has never tried to contact us." 

- Bill Watterson

Yeah, I think this sums up a lot of things in the world. Just my personal opinion though.

The surest sign that intelligent life exists elsewhere in the universe is that it has never tried to contact us. Bill Watterson
Read more at: https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/bill_watterson_105988?src=t_intelligent_life

The surest sign that intelligent life exists elsewhere in the universe is that it has never tried to contact us. Bill Watterson
Read more at: https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/bill_watterson_105988?src=t_intelligent_life

The surest sign that intelligent life exists elsewhere in the universe is that it has never tried to contact us. Bill Watterson
Read more at: https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/bill_watterson_105988?src=t_intelligent_life