Word: pyrophoric

 

pyrophoric

\ pahy-ruh-FAWR-ik, -FOR- \  , adjective;

1. Chemistry . capable of igniting spontaneously in air.

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“So, what’s so important that we had to come over right away?”  Becky asked with her arms crossed. 

                “I found something really cool today.”  Gary said.  His eyes were wide with excitement as he fidgeted with something hidden behind his back.

                “This had better not be an old video game of movie or something.”  Ted  said.  He slumped further into the easy chair he sat in.

                “Nope.  Way cooler than that.”  Gary said.  He wanted wait until his friends asked what it was, but he couldn’t wait until they did.  “Check it out.”  He said as he revealed his discovery. 

                It was a small, red tube that almost looked like some kind of candy dispenser, except for the row of small green lights and the ring at the end of it.  The front was covered by a sheet of silvery metal attached by a small hinge, and there was a thumb tip sized hole with an overhanging cover in the middle of it.   Gary held the thing like it was made of solid gold.

                “What is it?”  Becky asked.

                “No idea, but it’s awesome.”

                “What’s it do?”  Ted asked.

                “Watch and be amazed.” 

                Gary held the thing out in front of him, grabbed the ring and pulled, showing the ring was a short pull chord.  The top quickly opened and something shot out.  As whatever the projectile was traveled, it suddenly caught on fire.  The flame wasn’t big, only about twice the size of a large candle, but there was no obvious method of ignition or fuel source.  The most significant thing though, was that it stopped in mid air. 

                “See?  Cool, huh?  Oh, wait, check this out.”  Gary said. 

                He stuck his thumb into the hole and moved it slightly to the left.  The small fireball moved slowly in the same direction.  Gary moved his thumb in all directions, causing the burning object to move along with it.

                “Remote control fireball.  Awesome, right?”  Gary said proudly.

                “What exactly is burning there?”  Becky asked.  Ted cautiously approached the fire and examined it.

                “Looks like some kind of disk.  It’s hard to see though.”  He said. 

                “Oh yeah, I checked.  It’s these little clear disks.  Hold on, let me show you.”  Gary said.

                He maneuvered the fireball to a nearby glass of water resting on a side table and made the fire meet water.  Predictably, the fire was put out, leaving the small disk to float around in the glass.  Gary pulled the disk out and showed it to his friends. 

                “See?  No idea how it works or anything.  But I do know it lasts a long time.  Plus, even after it’s been soaked it still works.  Here, watch.”

                Gary threw the wet disk, and in mere moments, there was once again a small, floating ball of fire.  He used the tube to move it through the air just as he had before.

                 “Maybe some kind of chemical reaction from exposure to the air?”  Becky asked, musing over the mysterious source of fire.

                “No way.  If that was the case, it would be used up pretty quickly.”  Ted said.

                “Well, do you have any better ideas?” 

                “Not a one.”

                “Well then, don’t shoot down my ideas.  By the way, where’d you get that thing?”

                “I found it at a thrift store for five bucks.”  Gary said.  He was playing with the fire by making it circle the room and avoiding the objects in it.

                “Seriously?”  Becky asked.  Gary nodded.  “I guess I’ve got to shop at thrift stores more.”

                “Hey, uh, what’re those lights on the side?”  Ted asked.

                “Ammo.”  Gary said simply.  His friends waited for him to elaborate.  “This thing can shoot out six of these fire disks at once.  Then, in about ten minutes it starts making more.  It’s completely full in about fifteen minutes.  And they all do the exact same thing as this one does.”

                “So, you have an infinitely recharging, free moving, long lasting source of fire?”  Ted asked.

                “Yup.”

                “Huh.  What, uh, what’re you gonna do with it?”

                “Oh, god, please don’t tell me you’re going to do something stupid.”  Becky said.  “Like become some kind of vigilante.”

                “Are you kidding?”  Gary said.  “This thing would make a terrible weapon.  It’s a tiny fireball that moves really slowly.  It’s a tool, not a weapon.  I bet it’s great at starting campfires and roasting marshmallows, but not much else.”

                “Well, it’d be great to have on a cold day or during a power outage.”  Ted said.  “Oh, hey, you know what you could do is figure out how it works and patent it.  Even if you can’t make the recharging part work, it’d still make you a millionaire easy.”

                Gary used the glass of water to put out the fireball while he thought about that.  He didn’t have to think very long.

                “You know, I like that idea.  I like it a lot.  Not sure if I can pull it off on my own though.”

                “Gary, is that why you called the two of us over?”  Becky asked.

                “Maybe.”

                Ted and Becky looked at each other and rolled their eyes.  Gary was not the type to just ask for help outright, so it was easy to guess his ulterior motive for showing them his discovery.  But, they weren’t about to turn down the opportunity to work on something potentially world changing like that.  Plus, the fact that they could easily demand a cut of any future income was nice too.

                “Alright, we’ll help.”  Ted said. 

                “I knew you would.”  Gary said with a large grin on his face.

                “Yeah, yeah, sure you did.  Now then, I think the first order of business is to let one of us use the thing.”  Ted said hopefully, “You know, in order to get a feel for it and such.”

                “Uh huh.  You just want to play with it.”  Gary said.

                “So what if he does?”  Becky asked.  “The first thing we have to do is, indeed, to get a feel for it.  This isn’t playing around, it’s the first step to making more.  Now then, with that being said, hand it over and let’s get to work.”

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Something like this would be so much fun to play with, wouldn't it?  I mean, as long as there was a fire extinguisher nearby.  You know, just in case. 

Word: Periphrasis

            

periphrasis

\ puh-RIF-ruh-sis \  , noun;

1. the use of an unnecessarily long or roundabout form of expression; circumlocution.

2. an expression phrased in such fashion.

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    Mr. Valens sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, lifting his large glasses out of the way to do so.  The small man in front of him wrung his hands nervously.

                “Say that again, please.”  Mr. Valens said.

                “O-oh yes, o-f course.  You see, my new engine prototype uses an experimental fission/fusion reactor to break down the molecular structure of keratin, melanin, and the like to produce a highly energetic reaction.”  The man said hopefully.  The repetition did not help Mr. Valens’ understanding of what was being said.

                “Again, please.  And this time, use words I can actually understand.”

                “W-what?”

                “In, let’s say, ten words or less, tell me what your device does.”

                “O-oh, right.  Um, it’s an engine that uses hair as fuel.”

                “There we go.  That, I understood.  Now then, Mr. Teller, tell me a bit more about this engine.  Like, what’s the mileage?”

                “Oh yes, you see, since the engine uses a high efficiency reaction, it can produce a vast amount of energy out of..”  Mr. Teller started.  Mr. Valens interrupted his explanation by raising a hand.

                “Keep it simple, please.  What’s the mileage?”

                “Uh, right now it can run about thirty miles off one ounce of hair.”  Mr. Teller looked disappointed that he had been forced to cut his explanation short.

                “Good, good.  That’s not too bad, but hair only grows so fast.  Right now, it’s much faster and easier to just get regular gas.”

                “Y-yes, well.  That’s only right now.  With enough time and funding, I can greatly…”

                Once again, Mr. Teller was interrupted.  This time, Mr. Valens did so by holding both his hands out and bringing them together slowly.  Mr. Teller understood the gesture’s meaning right away and stopped to think.  This mouth twitched as bit, as he so desperately wanted to say everything on his mind on the subject.  He forced himself to keep it concise though.   

                “With enough funds and time, I can make it much more efficient.  I can probably even get it into the triple digits off one ounce of hair.  Plus, I can probably get it to run off finger and toe nails, and probably even dead skin.”

                “Dead skin?  That’s a bit grim, isn’t it?  Do you really think people will go for that?”

                “Oh, no doubt, sir.  You see, the human body…”  Mr. Valens peered over the top of his glasses, cutting Mr. Teller’s long winded, round about explanation short.  He focused his thoughts and continued.  “We shed off dead skin all the time without our noticing.  Just by touching something we get rid of dead skin cells.  Theoretically, I might even be able to make it so just rubbing the steering wheel will gain enough skin to fuel the car for a few miles.”

                “Really now?  Well, that is exciting.  How long do you think it’ll take to get all this up and running?”

                Mr. Teller opened his mouth, but closed it quickly.  There was quite a bit he could say on the matter, but given how Mr. Valens reacted to his full explanations, he restrained himself.

                “To get the engine running of nails and hair, one year maximum.  Two to three to increase the efficiency.  Another year or two to set up the entire system, including the steering wheel collection.  Of course, this is just an estimate.”

                  “So, roughly four to seven years?”  Mr. Valens said.  He leaned back in his large office chair and thought about the time table.  “I can live with that.  Although, I’m a little nervous about that fission thing.  Isn’t it dangerous?”  He asked, eyeing Mr. Teller in a way that told the small man to keep it simple.

                “No, it’s not.  There’s nothing radioactive about what’s being used, so there’s really no danger.  In fact, it could even be safer than gasoline.”

                “Wonderful, wonderful.  I believe this engine idea could be very profitable for this company.  I’ll approve further research.”  Mr. Teller’s eyes lit up when Mr. Valens said those words.  “Now then, let’s talk budget.  Any ideas?”

                “N-no, sir, I have no idea how much this endeavor will cost.”

                “Fine, fine.  Hm, let’s start with, oh, let’s say, five hundred.”

                “F-five hundred dollars?”  Mr. Teller knew it would cost more than that for sure.

                “Hundred?  Ha!  No, I mean five hundred million.  Sounds a bit better, doesn’t it?”

                Mr. Teller’s eyes widened.  He had just been offered more money than he had amassed during his entire life.  The fact that it could only be spent to further develop his engine was beside the point.

                “O-oh yes.  Yes, that should do very well, sir.”

                “Good.  Now, contact your lawyer and we’ll draw up a contract.  I’ll give you a standard ten year research position, during which you will devote yourself to this project.  Is that alright?”

                “Yes, sir.”

                “Great.  You can leave now.  Come back in, oh, three days with your lawyer and we’ll hammer out the details.”

                “Yes, sir.  I’ll do that, sir.  Thank you, sir.”  Mr. Teller kept talking even as he left the large office. 

                Mr. Valens watched the man leave.  He smiled once he was alone.  People like that were so easy to take advantage of.  This was going to be very profitable indeed. 

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An engine like this would solve a lot of problems, wouldn't it?  Could someone maybe get on making one?  I would, but I have no idea what goes into making things like this.  Just be careful who you end up dealing with.

Word: cogitation

            

cogitation

\ koj-i-TEY-shuhn \  , noun;

1. concerted thought or reflection; meditation; contemplation: After hours of cogitation he came up with a new proposal .

2. the faculty of thinking: She was a serious student and had a great power of cogitation .

3. a thought; design or plan: to jot down one's cogitations .

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    Jack opened his eyes.  In front of him was…nothing.  Just a blank, white space that didn’t seem to have any walls, or even a real floor.  In fact, it felt like he wasn’t really standing on anything in particular.  He was standing on something, he could feel his feet were being supported by something.  He just couldn’t see what. 

                He looked around at the empty area and wondered how he had gotten there.  What was he doing again?  There was a guy who had given him something to drink.  What was that about again?  He couldn’t remember.  It was something important though.  At least, he thought it was.  It had to be. 

                Jack’s thoughts were interrupted by sudden movement.  A small bird was flying around his head. Jack was compelled to hold out his hand to the animal.  It was a small, bland little woodpecker that ended up sitting on his outstretched fingers.  Jack and the bird looked at each other for a moment. The bird was the first to move.  It’s sharp little beak rapped against Jack’s forehead in quick succession.  He yelped and flicked the bird off.  It seemed to just disappear.

                Jack nursed the place where the woodpecker attacked him.  As he did, his feet started moving of their own accord.  He didn’t let that bother him, and opted to simply keep walking.  He tried to remember what he was doing in the vast, empty space.  The man had something to do with it.  Was he Chinese or something?  He looked Chinese.  But it could have been Japanese for all Jack knew.  And the drink.  Some kind of tea, right?  Yeah, it was definitely tea.  Why had he drunken it again?

                His thoughts were once again interrupted, this time by a person.  It was a girl, and one Jack recognized right away.  It was his ex-girlfriend, Lisa.  They had been dating for about six months when she dumped him.  He had thought they were getting along pretty well, but apparently, she thought otherwise.  Why had she dumped him again?  Oh, right.  She said he was too shallow.  It wasn’t that he only looked at a girl’s appearance, it was that he never had a deep thought in his life.  That all his ideas were simple, basic things and that nothing he did had any real depth to it.  She had even gone as far as to say his mind was completely empty. 

                That was why he had drunken the tea!  The old Chinese man said it was something that would let even someone like him enter a deep state of meditation and contemplation.  Jack figured that was the opposite of the shallow thoughts Lisa said he had, so he had drunk it.  That meant the large, empty space he was in was some kind of representation of his mind, right?  Wow, Lisa was right.  His mind really was empty. 

                So what should he do about that?  He had no idea.  He probably should have asked the Chinese guy before drinking the tea.  Oh well, he’d just have to figure it out on his own.  That was what meditation and that stuff was for, right?  Suddenly, the hummingbird came back.  This time though, it didn’t peck at Jack.  It simply landed on his head and sat there.  Was that supposed to happen?  Jack thought about that for a moment.  He figured it was and decided to just go with it.  He’d figure something out if he thought about it long enough.

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Not everyone has deep thoughts.  That's probably a good thing though.  If everyone was deep thinkers, nothing would get done.  But, on the other hand, it's equally bad if nobody every has any deep thoughts.  A nice balance between deep and shallow thoughts is best.  Really, that goes for all things, doesn't it?