Word: Eidetic

 

eidetic

[ ahy-det-ik ]

---

adjective

1. of, relating to, or constituting visual imagery vividly experienced and readily reproducible with great accuracy and in great detail.

2. of or relating to eidos.

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               Ken looked at his date in surprise. He and Lisa had been going out for almost a month and he was just hearing this now? How could he had missed it?

               “So, you really have a photographic memory?” He asked.

               Lisa sighed. “Yes, yes I do. And I really wish you’d just drop this now. I really don’t like talking about it.”

               “But why not? That’s amazing. To not forget things is like a dream come true.”

               “You’d think so wouldn’t you? You and every other guy I’ve dated. Hell, every person I’ve met thinks the same. But it’s not. It’s really not nearly as great as you think it is.”

               “Why not? I mean, you never have to worry about forgetting important meetings, or birthdays or anniversaries or anything like that. You don’t need to worry about calendar appointments, because you always remember them. And, frankly, you don’t need to worry about forgetting why you went into a room.”

               Lisa smiled weakly. Ken could see a weariness in her eyes. A tiredness that came from having to explain something a few times too many. Had he really done something bad by talking about this? Maybe he should just let the subject drop. But it was out there now anyway, so he might as well see it through.

               “Yeah, there are some good parts.” She said. “I remember all my friends in school. I remember the first time I had ice cream. All those wonderful, amazing things that we go through. I remember them all.”

               “So, what’s the problem?”

               She leaned back in her chair and let out a long sigh. “When I was seven, my parents got divorced. I remember verbatim every word or every argument they had. When I was six, we had a dog. I loved that dog. Sweetest thing in the world. It got run over right in front of me, and the driver didn’t even slow down. I remember what that dog looked like before and after that accident. I remember getting picked on by kids in my class, and why they did it. I remember in vivid detail what my grandparents looked like before they passed away. I remember the smell of my aunt’s so called ‘designer’ cigarettes. I remember every stubbed toe, every scrapped knee.”

               Ken felt the color drain from his face as she spoke. He had never even considered what a perfect memory really meant.

               “So yeah, remembering everything that happens to me isn’t so great.” Lisa said.

               “I…I’m sorry for bringing it up.” He said, perfectly sincere. “If it really makes you that uncomfortable, I won’t bring it up again.”

               “Yeah, I’m sure. You can say that easily enough. But it always comes up. Everyone does it, without even meaning to. Asking me to remember some important detail, some date or number or password. And I will. I can’t help but remember those things. The important thing is that you’ll ask. And you probably won’t even realize you’re doing it.”

               Ken began to say something. Something like how he would not do that. How he would never take advantage of her like that. But he also knew that was probably not possible. Lisa seemed to understand that.

               “At least you have the ability to forget this conversation.” She said. “That’s a luxury most people never even consider.”

               “Yeah, I guess we don’t.”

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

This is not a problem I have. I sometimes forget what I did five minutes ago.  Yeah, my memory isn't super great. There are some things I can remember reasonably well, but those are few and far between.

Word: Brumal

brumal

[ broo-muhl ]

adjective

wintry.

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               The land was clean and fresh. Snow covered the ground, trees, and far distant hills. No animals made their calls, nor were there any tracks to mar the glistening snow. Save for a gentle breeze, there were no sounds at all. That ended when a tear in space formed.

               The glowing gap hovered in the air and three figures dressed in heavy, airtight hazard suits stepped through. They looked around as the tear shrunk until it was a hairline fracture. The figure at the head of the trio raised a small handheld device. It gave a long, high beep and a screen gave the needed readout.

               “Okay, we’ve got a breathable atmosphere.” The figure, a man judging by the deep voice, said. “All environmental statuses are fit for human life. Good work back there.”

               The man took off his helmet, revealing a face that belonged in the military. The other two, another man and a woman, followed suit. The second, man smaller, much softer, man shivered in the cold.

               “Why’d it have to be winter? I mean, you could’ve made it a tropical paradise. We could be sitting on an island with hot waitresses serving colorful drinks with umbrellas in them.”

               The woman rolled her eyes. “Oh stop complaining. It’s not that cold.” She checked a readout. “It’s only 1 C. Perfectly normal for a winter’s day.”

               “That’s still really cold.”

               “Stop it, both of you.” The leader said. “We’ve got a job to do. And you know why it has to be winter.”

               “Yeah, yeah. Testing the potential for human habitation by creating a more extreme environment.” The smaller man said with a voice laced with sarcasm. “I really don’t think it was needed. I mean, they can literally make this place whatever they want. It’s not like anyone moving in here will need to worry about winter ever again.”

               “Not true.” The woman said. “People will still want seasons, if only for the experience. Just suck it up and turn on your heater. It’s not like you’ll freeze out here.”

               “Let’s just begin the testing.” The leader said, shaking his head and sighing. “Test one is to see if we can send things from artificial to actual reality.”

               With the signal given, the tear opened wider. The trio could just barely make out the lab on the other side.

               “Hang on, I got just the thing.”

               The smaller man scooped up a handful of snow, packed it into a ball, and threw it through the opening. Their comms came alive, hearing a muffled yelp as someone got hit with the snowball. They then heard the confirmation of the test’s success. The woman smacked the man behind the head.

               “Stop being such a child.” She said. “This is serious.”

               “I know. And that was a legitimate test. Gotta see if we can get water through, you know.”

               “Just…just don’t throw anything else through.” She sighed.

               “No promises. I mean, come on, if we’re going to be here for a month, we might as well have some fun, right?”

               “Moving on.” The leader said firmly. He went to the nearest tree and broke off a branch. “Well, it feels real. Testing whether artificial organic material can be moved to actual reality.” He said before gently pushed the branch through the opening.

               There was a cheer from the other side. The test had been successful. The leader cracked a small grin and turned to his team.

               “Okay people. Now that that’s out of the way, we can start the survival trial. The gate will close, animals will be generated. You both know what to do.”

               “Right, right.” Said the smaller man. “I still think they could’ve started with something nicer.” He muttered.

               The tear in space faded into nothingness. The trio looked out over the wintry landscape as the faint sounds of animals drifted to their ears. They had a month’s stay ahead of them, and all three got to work making sure they would make the most of it.

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Stay warm out there this winter, okay? No freezing to death on the open tundra, you hear? And, in case you're wondering, 1 C is about 34 F. Just, you know, for all my fellow 'Muricans out there who don't know no fancy metric stuff.

Word: Gravitas

 

gravitas

[ grav-i-tahs, ‐tas ]

noun

seriousness or sobriety, as of conduct or speech.

               The speaker stepped up to the podium. He was a tall man in his middle ages, and was showing signs of age. But he carried himself like a young man in his prime, as if he was the pinnacle of fitness and wellbeing. His stomach, of course, told a different story. He looked at the assembled audience and began speaking.

               “My friends,” he began. His voice was heavy. The kind of weight that came with a speech of utmost importance. He spoke like his words were the most important thing in the world. Like everything depended on them. “We have come to a grim time in our history. A time of strife and change. A time when all might end.”

               As he spoke, telling everyone how “difficult” and “trying” the coming months and years would be, a few of the more gullible people believed him, sucked in by the gravitas of his words. The rest of the audience knew he was spewing enough hot air to fill a hot-air balloon carrying an elephant.

               Most of them tuned out about two minutes into the speech, finding more interesting things on their phones, or in hushed conversation with the person next to them. The speaker either did not notice, or chose to ignore those who were not paying attention. He simply continued speaking of “the importance” of his plans, and how they would “save the world.”

               This was accompanied by a large number of eye rolls. Everybody knew the world was not actually going to end, no matter what the doomsayers and end-time prophets wanted people to believe. Sure, there was a lot of bad things going on, but not global catastrophe bad. A few riots and some conspiracy theories did not an apocalypse make.

But, this speaker seemed to thing they did. And, not only that, he said he would be able to fix these problems. He even managed to say it like he believed his own words. At least, he spoke with the severity such a thing warranted anyway. The problem was that other seemed to be believing him as well. The more levelheaded members of the audience were more worried about that than anything the man said. It was not one man who changed anything. It was the people who believed that one man.

Had the speaker actually had the interest of his fellow man at heart, those in attendance might not have been worried. But as he spoke, his actual intentions became clearer. He spoke of how much money it would take to enact his plans, and how it was the “solemn duty” of everyone in the audience to contribute to his cause, “for the sake of the future,” of course. He continued, saying, will all seriousness and urgency, that “the more people gave, the better the future would be.”

It was not nearly soon enough that the speech came to an end. The speaker, casting one last look over the audience, spoke his last words.

“I pray that all of you heed my warnings of the future, and have the foresight to do the right thing, and donate to my project. It is the only way that humanity as a whole will survive. Thank you, and good night.”

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As bad as things are right now, don't buy into all the people who say the world, or more likely, country, is going to end. A nation is not one person, no matter how important that person may be. And if you're going to donate money to someone or something, make sure it's actually a good cause, and not a scammer.