Word: Odoriferous

 

odoriferous

[oh-duh-rif-er-uhs] / ˌoʊ dəˈrɪf ər əs /

adjective

1. yielding or diffusing an odor.

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

                When Henry opened the door, a small bell rang. Nothing unusual. The store smelled of herbs and fragrant oils. The shelves were lined with jars of incense sticks. For the type of store this was, it was all incredibly ordinary. At least, that’s what Henry thought. How could this be the place he was looking for? It made no sense. But he would trust his source.

                An older woman emerged from the back room of the store at the sound of the bell. She was tall, and thickset. Sturdy though, not fat. She wore a stained apron over her clothes and had her greying hair up in a tight bun.

                “Good afternoon. You looking for anything in particular, or just browsing?” She asked with a small smile.

                “Uh, yeah. I’m looking for something specific. Something not sold in other incense stores.” Henry replied.

                “Ah, something a bit on the rare side, eh? Well, I do all kinds of custom scents. It’ll cost you more, but they’re worth it.”

                Henry moved towards the counter. This was not a conversation to be held from across a room. He even looked around and made sure they were alone.

                “I’m not looking for something normal. I’m looking for something a bit more special. Something that can…expand someone’s perspective.”

                The woman’s smile faded. Her face hardened.

                “I don’t know what anyone told you, but I don’t do drug laced sticks. You’ll have to go somewhere else for that.”

                Henry shook his head quickly. “No, no. Not that. At least I hope it’s nothing illegal. I’m looking for something a bit more, uh, revelatory?”

                Once again, her expression shifted, this time to one of curiosity. “Really now? And who told you I could provide something like that?”

                “I don’t know his real name, but he called himself Savant.”

                Her eyes widened in surprise for a moment, then a wide, toothy grin came to her face. “Is that so? That old codger is still around? No, maybe an apprentice that took the name? Did you meet him in person or was it through a proxy?”

                “Does the internet count as a proxy?”

                “Hm. Tricky. I’d say it does, yes. So, you met online and he told you…”

                “That I should come in here and ask you for a revelation. That I could handle it.”

                “He did, huh? Did he tell you what kind of revelation you could handle?”

                “He said something about a rainbow light?”

                The shopkeeper sucked in a breath of air. “Rainbow, are you sure?”

                “That’s what Savant said.”

                “Hm. I hope he knows what he’s doing. A rainbow revelation is not something to be taken lightly.”

                “I still don’t know what that all means. He wasn’t really very clear about the fine details. Only that it would change my life.”

                “That it will. What you’ll go through with what I’m about to give you will indeed alter everything you know about the world. Whether it’s for better or for worse depends on you. Now, wait here, I’ll be right back.”

                The shopkeeper went into the back room. Henry waited, looking over the regular stock. The woman came back out with a plastic bag that she placed on the counter. Henry looked inside to see an incense stand with odd patterns on it, and seven incense sticks, each with a different color.

                “Now, only use this stand. None other will work. It has holes for each stick, color coded. Light them in color order. I hope I don’t need to tell you what that is? Once they’re all lit, it’ll only take a few minutes for the effect to kick in. Also, it’s best to do this in a closed room where you won’t be disturbed. Got it?”

                “Yeah, I got it. Is there a time limit that they have to be lit?”

                “As quickly as you can. The longer all seven are lit together, the better. Oh, and when you’re done, come back around. I want to hear all about what you experienced. And what happened to you afterwards.”

                “Uh, okay? Uh, so…”

                “No charge. Hearing about your revelation will be payment enough. Now get going. You’ve got a long and very interesting afternoon ahead of you.”

                Henry nodded and left. He looked at the bag again. He wondered if this was really the right idea. If he had not been roped into some kind of weird cult. Well, he would find out soon enough.

               

Word: Operose

 

operose 

[op-uh-rohs] / ˈɒp əˌroʊs /

adjective

1. industrious, as a person.

2. done with or involving much labor.

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

                Dan and his roommate, Kevin, were barely watching TV. It was some documentary about Egypt that neither of them really cared about. But it was background noise that filled the silence that would otherwise dominate the room. Dan considered turning it off and putting on some music instead, but they could never agree on what music to listen to. It was why they used the TV instead.

                Dan was more engrossed in his phone, browsing through the offerings of e-books. He had no idea what Kevin was paying more attention to. Apparently, he was looking at the documentary more than Dan was.

                “Man, this is all bullcrap.” Kevin said.

                “Hm? What is?”

                “They’re talking about the pyramids, but they’re not even mentioning the aliens.”

                Dan let out a quiet groan. Under normal circumstances, Kevin was a decent person. A bit dim, but not too bad. But get him started on any conspiracy? Dan was tempted to just leave. Move to his bedroom and shut the door, leaving Kevin to stew in his conspiracy theorist rabbit holes. But he knew that Kevin would just follow him while explaining why “they” were lying.

                “Don’t.” Dan said. “I don’t want to hear about it.”

                “Why not? Can’t handle the truth?”

                “No, because your truth is dumb and wrong.”

                “You can only say that because you’re so indoctrinated by the system that you can’t see the truth.”

                “If I go away, will you stop talking to me?”

                “No way. You need to have your eyes open man. It’s the only way the world will change.”

                “Right.” Dan said with a heavy sigh. “So let me guess. You think the pyramids were built by aliens.”

                “I don’t think, I know. It’s the only thing that makes sense. I mean, how else did the ancient Egyptians move such heavy rocks without power tools? And how did they make such precise cuts without modern measuring tech? They couldn’t, that’s how.”

                “Uh-huh. Right. Sure. You keep on thinking that.”

                “Oh like you have better explanations.”

                “Better explanations for something that we know happened, rather than make excuses with something that has no evidence? Yes. Yes I do.”

                “Okay then, smart guy. What are they?”

                “Let’s start with how they cut the blocks. They used tools. Bronze chisels and the like. And before you say that hand tools wouldn’t be precise enough, no. You’re wrong. We have videos shot today of people using similar tools to cut stone with the exact precision that you’re claiming could only be done by what, alien lasers or something. Hell, I bet you and I could learn to do it with enough time, practice and motivation. And for moving the blocks? It’s called manpower. The Egyptians had a lot of that at their disposal. And no, they didn’t drag the big rocks across sand. They used logs or some other kind of rolling things. You know, like wheels. That’s also been demonstrated to be doable. So basically, skill and manpower. Things we know exist, and they had. Aliens? No, those have never been shown to exist on Earth. And don’t even try to point to their pantheon. Using mythology for anything is just idiotic.”

                Kevin opened and closed his mouth a few times. “That…that’s just what you’ve been told.”

                “Come on. Which makes more sense: That aliens came down the Earth, made a few stone buildings, and left, or that people built big buildings with tech that we know they had.”

                Kevin did not say anything. Dan could guess that he was thinking hard about ways to counter Dan’s words.

                “You can only say that because your mind hasn’t been opened to the possibilities!” Kevin said loudly.

                Before Dan could say anything else, Kevin stood and stormed off to his bedroom. Probably to chat with other conspiracy nuts and see how he should respond to Dan’s points.  Dan rolled his eyes. Having a conspiracy theorist as a roommate was a lot of things, but boring was certainly not one of them.

Word: Ramshackle

ramshackle

[ram-shak-uhl] / ˈræmˌʃæk əl /

adjective

1. loosely made or held together; rickety; shaky.

   a ramshackle house.

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

                “No.”

                The single word made Jill deflate like a balloon. She had been so sure her latest design would impress. To be shut down so firmly was not what she expected.

                “What? Why not?” She asked.

                “Why not? Why not?” Jack replied. “Look at the damn thing!”

                He pointed at Jill’s latest attempt at making a combat bot. The thing was barely four feet tall, and looked like it had been thrown together by materials sourced from a scrap heap. Each panel was made of a different kind of metal, many of which were covered with rust. It walked on three legs with joints that were barely holding together. The head had optical receivers that were cracked in several places. The four arms had clumsy, heavy blunt weapons at the ends of them instead of something actually useful. And to top it all off, the thing was held together by screws and rivets instead of proper welds.  

                Jack was amazed that it was even standing upright instead of collapsing into a pile of scrap metal. The fact that it moved was a miracle itself. He figured it would fall apart with a good, solid kick.

                “What’s wrong with it?” Jill asked.

                “You’re joking, right? It’s a piece of junk. And I do mean that literally. I’d be amazed if it stays together for more than a week.”

                Jill shuffled nervously. “It…it’s a prototype. It’s not finished. This is just to test the design.”

                “You built a prototype out of junk? Jill, we’ve talked about this. Designs are to be tested on paper and in sims. Prototypes are for real world testing of the tech. You’re meant to use them for when you have something new you want to try and a computer can’t simulate it. This is not a prototype. This is scrap metal.”

                “Come on, Jack, you know I can’t work like that. Sims don’t capture the real flow of the design. A computer just can’t get everything looking and acting like it will in the real world. I have to build it. It’s the only way to really see if the design works. I’ll make it nicer once we have an actually design to work with.”

                Jack signed heavily. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Fine. You want to criticize the design? Lets do that. Legs. No. There’s a reason treads and wheels are standard on war machines. Legs, even a tripod design, are finicky, tough to balance and hard to use. Theoretically they’re better at rough terrain, but we’re not using this for a warzone, we’re using this for competition. Four arms. Damn near impossible to control and balance. Especially since we’d want a different weapon type in each arm to have something to use against most opponents. Plus, they’ll be weaker overall than two, since the power draw will have to be distributed among all of them. There’s no room for armor either, which will put us at a major disadvantage. I could go on.”

                “Oh. Great. I get it. You don’t want me to innovate. You want a nice, safe design with a few stripes to make it unique.”

                “I didn’t say that. I’m just pointing out a few obvious problems. You can’t just do whatever you think looks cool. It has to work in the arena.”

                Jill huffed. “Fine! You want an arena bot with nothing new about it? That’s what I’ll give you.”

                She stormed off, forgetting the rickety bot in the middle of the room. Jack groaned. He could go after her, but he did not. Doing that never worked out well for either of them. He would just have to wait until she cooled off and then they could have another conversation. Hopefully one that was more productive.