Word: Sagittate

sagittate

[saj-i-teyt]

adjective

1. shaped like an arrowhead.

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There was glass shavings all over the floor.  The sound of scraping and chiseling filled the air.  Nina walked carefully through the small, impromptu workshop to find the man making the noises.  Roy sat hunched over a workbench, holding a thin, delicate chisel in his hand.  

    Nina circled around to see what he was working on.  It was a chunk of glass that was slowly being formed into a rough arrowhead shape.  It was clearly not meant to be used on an actual arrow, since it was too rough and neither sharp nor pointed.  

    “What’re you doing?” Nina asked when Roy finally put his chisel down.

    “Practicing.”

    “Practicing what?”

    “Making arrowheads out of glass.”

    “Why?”

    “So I’m ready when things go bad.”

    Nina sighed.  She should have known it was something like that.  Roy had been on some kind of apocalypse survivor kick recently, since he had read an internet article about civilization collapsing in ten or so years.

    “And making glass arrowheads will help...how?”

    “Easy.  I’ll be able to make my own weapons.  Once I learn how to make glass, I’ll have an unlimited supply of arrows, which will help a lot.”

    “Why not make them out of rocks?  Those are easy to find, and you don’t need to learn any extra skills to make them?”

“One word: Payload.”

Nina raised an eyebrow and motioned for him to continue.

“It’s like this, arrows aren’t as lethal as some other weapons are.  Sure, you can kill with them, but only if you shoot them in the right place.  The wounds they make are too small, so bleeding is easy to deal with as well.  That is, unless you’re using a special arrowhead.  Barbed arrowheads, for instance, are harder to take out and make a nasty wound.  But even those aren’t guaranteed to take out an opponent.  So, what I plan on doing is use poison.  Now, I could make an arrowhead out of stone or metal and just coat it with poison, but a lot of those loose their potency when they dry up, meaning I can’t just keep poisoned arrows around for an emergency. And that’s where the glass comes in.  If I can learn how to make hollow arrowheads out of glass, I can fill them with a little bit of poison before I make the arrow proper.  That way, the arrow enters the person and then shatters.  This does two things.  One, is that the shards do even more damage to the surrounding area.  Two, it delivers the poison directly into the body.  This does a lot more damage, and the poison won’t dry up, since it’ll be in a container.”

Nina was almost impressed.  He had put a lot of thought into it.  It almost made up for the fact that he was casually talking about killing people like it would be a common thing.  Of course, that was because his head was also full of a bunch of post-apocalyptic action movies in addition to doomsayer articles.

Nina figured it would be better to play along for a bit.  Roy would lose interest soon enough, so no harm would come of it.  Plus, if he actually did learn glassblowing, he would have a useful skill no matter what the future might hold.  

“Okay, that sounds...nice and all, but isn’t that a lot harder?  Like, a LOT harder?  I mean, just making an arrowhead out of glass is hard enough, but to do everything you want?  I mean, you have to make it hollow, which is harder.  THen you have to know how much stuff it can hold before it gets too heavy to fly fast enough to pierce skin.  Plus, you have to know how to make both the poison and the arrow.  All of those are skills that take years to learn, and you’ll need all of them.  How are you going to make this work?”

    Roy thought about that for a moment before answering.  “I’ll just have to practice harder then, won’t I?”

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No, I do not believe that civilization as we know it will end any time soon.  And even if it does, something other than pure anarchy will take its place sooner or later.  Humans do have a tendency towards social order, even if it doesn't seem like it in today's world.

Word: Bakemeat

bakemeat

or baked meat

[beyk-meet]

noun, Obsolete.

1. pastry; pie.

2. cooked food, especially a meat pie.

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“So, what do you think?” Gerald asked hopefully.  He held his hands in front of the digital mock up like some game show presenter.

    “The building looks good, I guess.” Leon answered.  “But why call it Bakemeats?  What does that even mean?”

    “It’s an old word for pie.  I figured it would be appropriate, given the business.”

    “Okay, but why?  I mean, nobody will know what it means.”

    “Exactly!” Gerald exclaimed, pointing at his friend.  “That’s exactly the point.  Everyone will wonder what the name means, that they’ll come into the store to ask.  And while they’re there, they’ll buy something.”

    “I think you’re overestimating people, there, Gerry.  It’s a nice idea, but you could’ve executed it better.”

    “Oh come on, Leon, you know you’ve gone into places just because you were curious about the name.”

    Leon could not argue with that.  He scratched his chin, knowing Gerald was right.  There was power in a business name, especially when that name makes people curious.

    “Okay, fine, I’ll give you that.” Leon continued.  “So, what do you sell anyway?”

    “Isn’t it obvious?  Pies!  All kinds of pies.  Fruit pies, chocolate pies, custard pies, cream pies.  ANd it’s not just dessert pies either.  Meat pies, pot pies, even pizza pies.  If it can be called a pie and is edible, Bakemeats makes and sells it.”

“Huh.  That...that actually sounds kind of good.” Leon said.  He did love him some pie, and had the belly to show for it.  

“I know, right?”

“But I hope you aren’t just going to get the stuff frozen.”

“No way.  If I did that, nobody would buy anything.  It’ll all be hand made in store.  Now, I know I’ll need more people to make the stuff once the store gets going, but for the opening, I should be okay as long as I can get someone to watch the front areas.”

“Good.  And where are you getting the recipes from?”

“All my own inventions.”

Leon was suddenly very nervous.  He had never known Gerald as a skilled chef or baker.

“I know what you’re thinking.” Gerald said.  “And I tell you not to worry.  I’ve done a lot of experiments with all kinds of pies.  All I need is a final taste tester.”

“And I take it that’s me?”

Gerald was already heading towards the kitchen to retrieve the first sample.  He came back with a tray of steaming dinner pies.  A slice of cheese pizza, a mini pot pie, and a mini meat pie all waited for him.

Gerald picked up the meat pie and took a deep breath.  At least it smelled good.  That was more than he thought.  Since the piece was small, he popped it in his mouth and chewed slowly.  He was quite surprised that he actually liked it.

“Wow.  This is a lot better than I thought it would be.”

“Thanks, buddy.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.  It’s not perfect, and still needs some improvement if you really want to get repeat customers.”

“I’ll do what I can.  How about you write down some suggestions and I’ll see what I can do.  In the meantime, are you ready for the next one?”

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

When it comes to pie, I'm more of a chocolate than a fruit kind of guy.  I've never really had a good dinner pie other than pizza though.  And when I do eat a pot pie or something, it's usually the frozen, over salted, store bought variety.  Not exactly the epitome of the craft, that's for sure.  Maybe one day I'll try a real one and see what happens.

Word: Attenuate

attenuate

[verb uh-ten-yoo-eyt; adjective uh-ten-yoo-it, -eyt]

verb (used with object), attenuated, attenuating.

1. to weaken or reduce in force, intensity, effect, quantity, or value:

to attenuate desire.

2. to make thin; make slender or fine.

3. Bacteriology, Immunology. to render less virulent, as a strain of pathogenic virus or bacterium.

4. Electronics. to decrease the amplitude of (an electronic signal).

verb (used without object), attenuated, attenuating.

5. to become thin or fine; lessen.

adjective

6. weakened; diminishing.

7. Botany. tapering gradually to a narrow extremity.

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Fred fumbled with the controls as he kept his eyes on the screen.  His thick fingers mashed the buttons he only partially knew.  His character lunged forward, weapon drawn, and impacted with the enemy, only to glance off.  It was the same result as the last three times he tried.  He grumbled and had to resist throwing the piece of black plastic.

    “I just don’t get these things.” He said.  “I’m doing everything, and it’s getting me nowhere.”

    “Oh, it’s not that hard, grandpa.” Kevin said.  “This is an easy enemy.  I mean, all it does is sit there.”

    Fred let out a huff as he glanced at his teenage grandson out of the corner of his eye.  “Says you.  Look, I’m doing everything you said to do.  I’m hitting the button, the guy attacks, but the dang thing just closes up.”

    “That’s because it’s a plant monster.  That kind of enemy likes to protect itself.  You’ll never get through with a front charge like that.”

    “But that’s what you said to do.”  The older man was getting fed up.  He much preferred games that involved boards or cards.  Video games were just not his style.

    “Yeah, and for most enemies, it works great.  But not this kind.  This kind you need a different strategy.  Here, watch me.”

    Kevin grabbed the controller from his grandpa’s hands. The teen hit a series of buttons on the controller and his character reacted.  Instead of lunging forward, the character raised its sword overhead and the weapon began to glow.  The botanical monster was surrounded by five floating ethereal blades.  The glowing, translucent weapons plunged down on the monster.  It tried to defend itself with its thick, metallic vines, but was unable to do so.

    “See?  It’s easy.  One attack doesn’t work.  It’ll just close all it’s vines up and block it, no matter how strong the attack is.  But if you hit it from a bunch of different places, it tries to block them all, but it doesn’t have enough vines to do that.  That means it’s defenses get a lot weaker, so you can get through.  Each attack doesn’t do a lot of damage, but these guys don’t have a lot of health, so it’s fine.  One more attack should do it.”

    Kevin repeated his attack, and sure enough, the monster disappeared in a flurry of virtual vines and bright green sap.  

    Watching all this, Fred was baffled.  He understood the basic idea of what Kevin was saying.  It was a tactic present in many other games. Get your opponent to thin out or weaken their defenses and then hit the resulting weak spots.  It was the application that baffled him.  He could barely keep up with what buttons Kevin was pressing to get his character to use the special move.  It had happened so fast that there was little hope for his old, chubby fingers to match the movement’s of his grandson’s young, slender fingers.  

“You know what, I think I’ll stick to games I can actually play.” Fred said.  “Come get me when you’re ready to play some rummy, got it?”  

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Honestly, I don't have much to say about this one, so yeah.  Just, you know, have a nice day and stuff.

Word: Earthshine

earthshine

[urth-shahyn]

noun, Astronomy.

1. the faint illumination of the part of the moon not illuminated by sunlight, as during a crescent phase, caused by the reflection of light from the earth.

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   Tom and Sam lay on the grassy hill, looking up at the night sky.  The weather was cool, but not cold, and the sky was clear.  Since they were fairly far from any towns or cities, the stars were brighter and more numerous than either was used to.  The moon did not bring out much interference either, being a slim crescent.  It was looking up at this sliver of silver that Sam decided to break the silence.

    “It’s not real, you know.”

    “What’s not real?” Tom asked.

    “That.” Sam pointed up at the moon.

    “Seriously?  The moon?  The moon’s not real?”

    “Nope.  Or at least, not in the way people think it is.”

    “Oh god, I’m going to regret this, but tell me what you think the moon is.”

    If Sam did not get to voice his insane conspiracy theories, then the guy would be grumpy for the rest of the night.  Tom had no interest in dealing with a grumpy Sam.

    “It’s kind of a big spy space station type thing.  See, it’s hollow inside, and covered with equipment for gathering data and monitoring everyone on Earth.”

    Tom groaned and gently hit his head against the ground.  “Why, pray tell, do you think this?” He almost dreaded the answer.

    “How can you not realise it?” Sam replied.  “I mean, it’s obvious.  For one thing, why can nobody but a few select individuals go there?  I mean, we have the tech to get lots of people there and back, so why reserve it for only astronauts?”  Sam did not let Tom say anything in rebuttal.  “Also, you know those supposed ‘craters’?  Those are sensor arrays and buildings.  Those bright spots?  Cameras.  And it’s obvious the light that comes from it isn’t coming from the Sun.  It’s self-illuminating.”

    Tom rolled his eyes at that.  “What makes you think that?” He asked through a sigh.

    “Well, tonight’s a good example.  Look at it.  Even though the moon’s supposed to be a crescent, you can see the whole thing.  Explain that without it being its own light source?”

    Tom looked closely at the moon.  Sure enough, while only a small sliver of the moon was clearly visible, the entire thing was indeed visible, if only just.

    “That’s light coming from the Earth.” Tom said.

    “Oh, yeah, right.  I can understand how people think the sun’s light is reflected, but the Earth?  Earth doesn’t even emit any light of its own, so how can the moon be reflecting it?”

    “Lots of ways.  First of all, some of the light that comes from the Sun gets bounced back up, and then reflects off the moon.  Second, the Earth itself may not make light, but we humans sure do.  It might not be strong, but it’s there.”

    “Uh huh.” Sam said dully.  “You keep thinking that.  Me?  I’ll keep on spreading the truth.”

    “Truth, huh?  Tell me this, if you know so much, then who operates this whole big spy operation?”

    “NASA.”

    “NASA.  You mean the NASA that’s not even a hundred years old.  The NASA that need help from other space programs just to keep a small group of people in space.”

    “That whole ISS thing’s just a front to keep us from the truth.”

    “And what about the age thing?  NASA started in the 50’s.  It couldn’t have built a moon that’s been there since before humans were even a thing.”

    “Oh please.  What evidence is there of that?”

    “What, of the moon being older than our parents?  Easy.  The fact that our parents saw it when they were our age.  And the fact that there’s huge amounts of historical data that points to people using the moon for navigation and stuff.  Plus all the mythology surrounding it.  Yeah, I’d say it’s a safe bet that NASA did not build the moon.”

    “W-well then someone else did, and NASA just runs it now.”

    “Uh huh.  Good luck coming up with something more plausible, buddy.”

    “I’ll figure it out, you’ll see.  I’ll find the truth and tell everyone.

    Tom rolled his eyes as his friend continued to rant and rave about how he alone knew the truth and how he would open everyone’s eyes.  Tom started tuning Sam’s words out, and just enjoyed the view of the night sky.

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

It's sad, but there are people who actually think about this sort of thing.  Big, massive conspiracies that fall apart under any real scrutiny.  But they still defend their ridiculous ideas to the end.  I've got to wonder how these things come about in the first place.  Is there someone who just thinks of the craziest thing he/she can, and then put together some semblance of evidence?  And do people actually believe this stuff?  My god, I hope not.

Word: Bonce

bonce

[bons]

noun, British Slang.

1. head; skull.

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           Professor Andrews gently placed the wrapped package onto the examining table, for all those gathered to see.  He unwrapped the bundle of cloth, revealing what at first glance appeared to be a human skull.

“Now, can anyone tell me what is wrong with this?” Andrews asked.

It was an unnecessary question, and it did not take long for the others to answer, as each was almost as well versed in the human skeleton as Andrews was.

“The rear of the skull extends four centimeters too long.” One of them said.

“And what is this protrusion coming out of the front?” Another commented.

Indeed, the skull was too long in the back, and there was a nub of bone coming from the front.  The latter looked almost like the beginnings of a horn, or something similar.  The gathered academics poured over the misshapen skull, examining it in every way possible.  They only stopped when a question was posed to Professor Andrews.

“Where did you find this?”

“That is perhaps the most unusual thing about this particular specimen.” Andrews said.  “I found it on a decent dig near the border of Peru and Bolivia.  There are several oddities about this dig.  The first was that this skull was not particularly deep.  One would think at first that this is some distant ancestor or evolutionary divergence.  But that e ground, but not so with this one.  It was a one and a half meters underground.” The others murmured to themselves.  Andrews continued on, undaunted by the reaction.  “In addition, the skull was found exactly as you see it here, with the exception of having been cleaned.  The lower jaw was intact, as it is here, and there was no sign of any other bones nearby.”

“But that’s impossible.” One of the others said.  

“Not impossible.” Said another.  “It could have easily been placed like that deliberately for some ritual.  It could even be a hoax.”

That brought a new round of discussion from the assembly.  Indeed, the odd shape of the skull, lack of other remains, and fairly shallow depth did make it seem like someone playing a joke on the academic world.  Andrews spoke up again.

“I had considered that, of course.  With that in mind, I performed as many tests as I am capable of performing.  The bones seem real enough.  At least the chemical composition and structure are identical to a human’s.  But this also revealed another oddity.  This skull is, according to my test results, one hundred years old.”  

Eyes widened.  A mere century was nothing in terms of human history.  But it was enough to destroy most human remains unless specially preserved.  Certainly a lone skull without any discernible burial methods would never have survived that long in such pristine conditions.  It also made it belonging to some unknown evolutionary offshoot of humanity impossible.  It also made the skull being a hoax unlikely, as nobody would be able to get a hold of hundred year old bones and arrange them so perfectly.  It was not completely impossible, but highly unlikely.

“Gentlemen,” Professor Andrews said while placing a hand on the skull, “What we have here is one of the greatest mysteries in our field in modern history.  I propose we join our collective intellects and allocate as many resources as is reasonable towards figuring out what this skull is.  All in favor?”

It was unanimous.  Everyone stared at the skull, each forming his theories about what it could be.

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Not sure if this'll go anywhere, but we'll see what happens in the future.