Word: Orthoepy

orthoepy

Older Spelling, or·tho·ë·py

[awr-thoh-uh-pee, awr-thoh-ep-ee]

noun

1. the study of correct pronunciation.

2. customary pronunciation (cacoepy ).

 

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                “Hey, we just got the latest transmission. This one’s all text.” Dr. Keller said.

                “Great. So instead of incomprehensible words, we get incomprehensible text.” Dr. Opal replied. “Please tell me it won’t be in their alphabet.”

                Dr. Keller opened the file. It was using English letters, but the contents were pure gibberish. The linguist skimmed the data before he said anything. “Looks like we got a transliterated version.”

                “Great. So we have a complete guide to the unpronounceable. That’ll help.” Dr. Opal said. He slumped deeper into his seat as his colleague transferred the file.

                Both of them examined the document, pouring over the provided guides. They did not seem to match up with the letters, and many of the sounds seemed impossible to make with the human tongue.

                “How in the world are we supposed to talk with them?” Dr. Keller asked. “I don’t think we can even make half of these sounds.”

                “Hopefully that means they’re having just as much trouble with our language as they are with ours. That way we’re not the only ones sounding like idiots by trying to speak the other’s language.”

                “Yeah, right. Maybe they’ll have some kind of universal translator and they’re only gathering data to make it work for our language.”

                “That would be nice. Although given the amount of effort being put into translation, I doubt that. And even if they did, the odds of them giving us such a valuable technology is pretty slim.”

                “We can hope. I mean, they came who knows how many light years to get to Earth. I would think a translator would not only be necessary, it would be easy to make. It’d be like us giving a dictionary to an uncontacted tribe. Easy for us, invaluable for them.”

                “We can hope. But for now, let’s assume they don’t have that kind of translation tech, and if they do, they won’t share it with us. We still need to find a way for the human mouth to pronounce words consisting of sounds that it was never meant to make. And that’s on top of trying to translate those words into something that actually makes sense for us.”

                “Yeah. I know.” Dr. Keller said with a heavy sigh. “A guy can dream though, can’t he?”

                “And a fine dream it is.” Dr. Opal agreed. “Just not a realistic one.”

                The two linguists grumbled at their workload. Neither man thought that trying to uncover an alien language would be so much impossible work. Both had thought it would be a deep, exiting thing to attempt to bridge a gap that spanned star systems. One that would involve interacting with alien beings and their wondrous technologies. Instead, they were shut in a room with a few computers. The process of making both the translations and the pronunciation guide was a dull, tedious affair. But it was one that would, hopefully, get them recognized for their contribution and lead to many wonderful things for humanity as a whole. That was one of the few things that got them through their frustration and boredom.     *******************************

Not my best work, I admit. I wasn't sure how to end this one, so it just kinda...does. Maybe next week will be better. 

Word: Vector

vector

[vek-ter]

noun

1. Mathematics.

   1. a quantity possessing both magnitude and direction, represented by an arrow the direction of which indicates the direction of the quantity and the length of which is proportional to the magnitude.

   2. such a quantity with the additional requirement that such quantities obey the parallelogram law of addition.

   3. such a quantity with the additional requirement that such quantities are to transform in a particular way under changes of the coordinate system.

   4. any generalization of the above quantities.

2. the direction or course followed by an airplane, missile, or the like.

3. Biology.

   1. an insect or other organism that transmits a pathogenic fungus, virus, bacterium, etc.

   2. any agent that acts as a carrier or transporter, as a virus or plasmid that conveys a genetically engineered DNA segment into a host cell.

4. Computers.,  an array of data ordered such that individual items can be located with a single index or subscript.

 

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Kevin loaded up the game as Sarah sat next to him. He still felt a little odd about her being there, but he was also not going to complain. After all, what self-respecting guy would complain about a pretty woman taking interest in video games?

“Are you sure you want to watch?” He asked. Sure he might not complain about her presence, but he would not want her to force herself. “It won’t be much fun just watching.”

“I know. But I’m sure your color commentary will make up for it. Besides, you’ve started learning about my hobbies. It’s only fare I do the same for yours.

“If that’s how you feel about it, I won’t stop you. Anyway, let’s get started. This game is called Nova Wars. Basic spaceship battle. Each player builds a ship and controls them to fight. It’s a simple enough premise, but with the number of parts available, there’s a lot more depth than you’d think.”

“I’ll take your word for it. So, are you going to play a few rounds?”

“Yup.” Kevin said, even as he queued up an online match. The call to battle was answered fairly quickly.

“So, can you tell what the opponent has?”

“Yes and no. You don’t get any info given to you, but each part has aa unique look. So, a skilled player can tell what they’re up against just by looking.”

“Skilled, or just logging way too many hours?”

Kevin smirked at her joke. “It can be both. Anyway, let’s see. Hmm...”

“What is it? Is this a guy with a strong ship?”

“No, actually. From his loadout, he’s pretty weak. Nothing bad, but nothing great. And he’s actually using a V-Cannon.”

“V-Cannon?”

“It’s short for Vector Cannon. It has a fast-moving projectile that deals a lot of damage. The problem is that it can only travel in a straight line and the fire rate is slow. Because of that, it’s easy to dodge for a skilled player. Which means there are only two kinds of players who use it. Newbies who don’t know any better, and pros who are just messing around.”

“And which is this?”

“No idea. I don’t see anything on their ship that tells me which one it is.”

Sarah’s brow furrowed in thought. “So this match is either going to be an overwhelming victory, or a complete and utter defeat?”

“I mean, that’s how it is for every match, but I get what you’re asking. And the answer is not quite. If it’s a newbie, then yeah, I’m definitely going to win no question. But if it’s a pro things get tricky. With a low spec ship, but an expert player, I’d say I have a 50-50 shot at winning.”

“Well then, let’s hope it’s a new player, right?”

Kevin nodded, but he was not so sure that was what he wanted. The best victories were those that were hard fought. He almost hoped it was a pro in disguise, just so he could have a good match. He would find out soon enough though. The prep for the match ended, and the game began.

Word: Fantasticate

fantasticate

[fan-tas-ti-keyt]

verb (used with object)

fantasticated, fantasticating 

1. to make or render fantastic.

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                James looked over the sketches. Dozens of them littered his desk. And none of them was enough. All he had drawn so far was a few dresses and skirts. Good, yes. But not what he needed. The people expected more of him than a few common outfits. His works needed to be more.

                He needed to really Wow the people. Give them something exciting. Something truly fantastic. What he was making needed to go beyond mere fashion. But at the same time, his designs needed to actually be wearable. Those ridiculous clown outfits his contemporaries made were beyond him.

                But he had hit a stumbling block. All the best ideas had already been done. It was the struggle all creatives went though. There truly was nothing new under the sun. So how did he make something amazing? Something that was not just sticking random bits of cloth or, heaven forbid, plastic to a model and calling it an outfit had no appeal to him.

                As James poured over his drawings, his eyes landed on one. Not one that he had drawn that day, or even that week. It was one of the first sketches he had ever made. One that he kept on hand as a reminder of where he started and where he was now. It was of a plain, simple affair. Just a blouse and skirt. The kind one could find anywhere. Boring, really.

                But something about it tugged at his mind. It was such a simple design, but could he not work with that? Build off the most basic of basics. Elevate the mundane to the fantastic. Turn the boring into the extraordinary. Yes. Yes, that was what he needed to do. That was the key to his next great work.

                It would not be easy, of course. Such a simple design had been used for all manner of designs. But James was not stranger to hard work. He drew a slightly elevated version of his first sketch. It was nothing, really. But it was a start. The first of many. He would iterate. He would alter and innovate. He would push the limits of what could be done with a simple blouse and skirt.

                He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He needed to clear his mind of all the ideas that had come before. Everything he had done so far would be tossed out of his mind. Only the newest would exist there. Once that was done, James picked up his pencil, opened his eyes, and drew.

                He quickly lost track of time. He stopped counting how many drawings he made. Each one having tiny alterations. Small changes that would add up over time. Some were rejected, others improved upon. Each one closing in on his glorious vision. After who knew how many sketches, James stopped.

                He looked at the latest iteration of his design. There was something about this one. It spoke to him. On the surface, nothing about it was special. But there was something about it. Something that told James he was on the right track. That he was getting closer than he had ever dreamed. But nothing he thought of could improve this one design. Was this it? Was this what he wanted? No. It was not there yet. He was just getting tired of the day’s work.

                Yes, that was it. James stood. When he did, he felt the exhaustion wash over him. He was tired. He would rest. He would dream. And tomorrow, he would create something truly remarkable.