“That’s creepy man.” Sam shoved the elf away and got up off the bed, just in time to catch Dan’s whole face twitching for some reason. Clearing his throat, he said, “And I’ll be more than happy to shame you for that in just a moment. But I’m a ‘pee first thing in the morning’ kind of person, so if you’ll just excuse me...” Not waiting for an answer, he rushed into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. Jesus fuck! He exhaled once he was behind the closed door. Does that guy know something?
“Web-Web. Web-Web,” he whispered to himself once he was sitting on the toilet. “Do you know this guy? Is he evil or something? Do you think he knows?” The AI stayed silent, which relaxed Sam at first and allowed him to start his business, following the logic that if Web-Web didn’t talk back, that must mean the situation wasn’t dangerous. Of course, he then began worrying that the reason Web-Web wasn’t speaking was because Farris might me able to sense them somehow, which caused Sam to clam right back up.
Exhaling once again, Sam slapped himself on both cheeks and muttered, “Stop getting in your own head, man. You got nothing to worry about, nothing to worry about. It’s just a coincidence. Guy just has a weird interest in Taken and he wanted to meet the newest and most unique one. He probably doesn’t think I’m anything special beyond being a Thread-Weaver and a Taken. This just is me jumping to conclusions.” He managed to calm himself and, soon enough, he was flushing the toilet. After washing his face and brushing his teeth (even high-ranking generals must wait on dental hygiene) he stepped back into the room to see the three of his guests looking at him expectantly.
“I’m not letting you guys in there,” he said.
“We weren’t going to ask,” Dan said.
“Why not?” Farris asked at the same time.
“How are you feeling, Sam?” Maurice ignored the other two.
“Head’s still hurting a bit.” Sam massaged his forehead. “Besides that, I’m fine. At least I think I am. Is there anything else I should be doing? Magic-wise?”
“Yes,” Farris said. “Catch up to the rest of your peers in both knowledge and level… Oh? You meant right now? No, you’re good.”
Maurice sighed. “Get dressed and then we’ll go get your universal translator installed. We obviously have no reason to be carrying any spares around here, so I had to order one for you, but I left it back at my office.”
“Ooh… The translator. That’s always great fun. Being able to read every book and watch every show in its native language. We’ll go grab you some must read elven classics afterwards.”
“We?” Sam asked, displacing Maurice in order to take out a pair of pants from the dresser. “Who’s we? Who invited you?”
“Excuse me?” The general guffawed exaggeratedly. “I came all this way from Maynil just to see you and you’re going to brush me away so cruelly? After all I’ve done to help you? I’ve bared my true self before you.”
“The word Ike is still bouncing around in my head.”
“Yeah, that will take a while to be gone.” Farris laughed. “There’s a trick to counter it, though. I’d be willing to teach it to you. For a price.”
Sam raised his head from tying his shoes and narrowed his eyes at Farris. “What you want?”
“Let’s just say that you’ll owe me one. How about it?”
“Sure, whatever. Worst case, I’ll just write you off. It’s not like keeping promises is the cornerstone of a lot of ethical theories.”
“Splendid. I won’t get into why or how it works. That’s going to be on the shoulders of whoever it is we send out to teach you threads, so for now just take it as is. But what you need to do is real easy: focus on the intrusive thought while at the same time imagining it to be the answer to a simple mathematical question.”
Sam stood up. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Try it.”
“What, ‘one plus one equals Ike?’”
“Sure. Or, if it’s easier for you, use… what’s it called?” he turned to Dan and uttered a word Sam didn’t understand.
“Algebra,” Dan said. Sam shook his head and pictured the three lettered work being the solution to some real simple equation. He was amazed to discover that after the fifth time uttering the equation in his mind, the compulsion to keep thinking about the word lessened. By the tenth iteration, the compulsion was completely gone.
“See?” Farris held a cocky grin when Sam finally opened his eyes in confusion that the elf’s idiotic tip had really worked.
“No thank you, I don’t like sand.”
“What?”
“What?” Sam tried mirroring Farris’ confusion, in an attempt to win back imaginary and childish points, before quickly turning back to Maurice. “All ready, after you, doctor.” Maurice nodded and began leading the odd procession that walked out of Sam’s room like it was some mangled joke. Dan followed at Maurice’s back, glancing backwards every couple of seconds at Sam and the almighty general that walked almost shoulder to shoulder with him.
“Do you mind?” Sam gestured towards the lack of space between them. His hand hitting the elder man’s ribs would have helped drive the point further if it didn’t feel to Sam like he had hit solid steel. “Ow! The fuck was that?” he asked, while rubbing his bruised hand.
Farris tapped on his chest, which echoed with a metallic sound. “Living Armor, very rare.”
“Why do you have armor on?”
“Why not? Armor is cool. Besides, you can’t take Living Armor off, silly. That’s the whole point. It lives with you. Anyway”—he inched even closer to Sam—“you got to explain to me that joke you just made. I didn’t get it at all. What does the sand have to do with it?”
“Are you serious? Why do you even care about that? It was a stupid joke, barely a joke, as a matter of fact.”
“But it was something, right? I seem to recall reading about a popular internet joke having to do with sand or something, but I can’t recall it at the moment.”
“Jesus, mate, why the hell do you even know this stuff? You’re an elf living a hundred years removed from the stupid movies.”
“So it’s something to do with movies?”
“What? No man, I mean yes. But my ‘joke’ had nothing to do with them or that meme.”
“So it was a joke! What was it?”
Sam shook his head with a bemused smile. “I can’t believe I have to explain this… It was just a play on words. ‘See’ sounds like ‘sea’ which has a beach—”
“And because you don’t like sand, you don’t go to the sea!” Farris finished for him. “Wow, you’re right. It really wasn’t a good joke. So what is the meme about the sand? Oh. wait a moment.” Sam held the building’s door open for him while Farris was busy rearranging his look by putting on sunglasses and a giant hat that he materialized out of nothing.
“What are you doing?” Dan shook his head at the grinning elf. “No one here can recognize you now anyway.”
“Better safe than sorry,” Farris said and gave Sam a thumbs up.
“I feel like I must apologize somewhat for the general’s behavior, Sam,” Dan said once they joined back with him and Maurice. “He’s usually much more composed than this.”
“That’s just because you haven’t gotten to know me very well yet, Dan Ritter! We just need to spend more time together. I’m like this with all of my close friends.”
“With all due respects, sir, I was at Shallenet. Don’t try and tell me that wasn’t the real you.”
“Oh… come off it. Who’s to say which version of myself is the real me? There’re hundreds of Farris Ninaes out there for every situation and mood I’m in. And this is me when I’m having fun with my friends on vacation and I don’t need to take anything seriously.”
“What vacation? You’re here on work. You have the summit with Terran Home Command that has already started three hours ago. It’s your official reason for coming here, lest we forget.”
“Really?” Sam asked.
Farris smiled. “Well, I kept pushing it off due to now wanting to bother with the small amount of headache the politics will bring. But I had to do it eventually. So I figured, why not now? I’m already coming to New Terra anyway, to see you in all your splendor. But it’s not like I have to be there. My people are going to take care of everything. And we’re not going to go over anything too important, just logistics.”
“Logistics aren’t important?”
“Oh, very much so. Incredibly important. Sure, the war had been in stalemate for a decade and there’s not much place for innovation in that aspect. But that’s what this conference is really about, the innovation that can still take place. Making sure that everything that should be done, will be done. And since I will brook no comprise or deliberation, there’s not much for me to do there besides being a pretty face.”
“Hardly everything,” Maurice said.
“Look doctor, we all want a codified and optimal first aid manual. But any Ruler than can oversee such a project is indisposed and will be for the foreseeable future. So unless you’re willing to step up to the to occasion and become a Ruler yourself, it’s just going to have to be tabled for now.”
“I just don’t understand why you must have a Ruler in charge. There are plenty of talented healers and doctors all around the Web who’s knowledge surpasses every Ruler even if their level doesn’t.”
“Because the ningani won’t adopt any change in doctrine, unless sure that the entire theory standing behind it is airtight. And because their meritocracy only sees magical strength as worthy of merit, they think only Rulers—meaning those who work with threads—can make worthwhile suggestions to science. And if the ningani won’t adopt any change, then the Imperials won’t. And if both of them won’t, then the Accord isn’t going to without being forced to. So unless you’re telling me that you have a surefire way to get the Silent Seer to adopt it as one of her ‘just do it, I don’t need to explain to you anything’ edicts. You’re really just talking about dedicating thousands of work hours in order to change our field aid procedures by a tiny amount. Because without involvement from the other races, you’re just going to end up with our current manual, that you helped design ten years ago.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Maurice said calmly.
“So are you not planning to attend the summit at all?” Dan asked.
“Of course I am and of course I will. Thank you for reminding me of the slavish nature of my position. Now I wouldn’t be able to have fun because the cloud of duty will keep hanging over me. You understand my plight, right Sammy?”
“Are you asking me whether I understand not wanting to go to a social event? Or whether I understand that power binds those who wield it like the gift of knowledge bound mankind to this mortal coil?”
“The first one.”
“Oh. Then, no. Also, don’t call me Sammy.”
“So Sam isn’t short for something? Samuel? Sampson, maybe?”
“No, but now that you’ve mentioned it, I’ve got a great joke about—never mind,” he said once he saw Dan wincing.
“So just Sam? That’s a little bland, don’t you think? Is there no meaning behind it?”
“It’s a name just like any other. It’s not like there’s an objective quality to the stuff. Why, what the hell does your name stand for?”
“Oh, but there’s a whole slew of famous Farrises. There’s Farris the Great; he’s the big one. There’s Farris the Drowned; he’s the mythological one. Myself, I was named after my great-grandfather because my parents saw nothing wrong with giving the second-born the most common name for elven monarchs.”
“Well, Sam stands for Sam. My mother was a big fan of footwear based economical theories.”
“You don’t say… I’m going to have to look that up later. Didn’t know that Terrans also had shoes based economics.” Sam narrowed his eyes at Farris, but chose not to pursue the question had loud, remarking to himself to look up elven economic theory at a later date.
“So how long does installing me with ancient malware going to take?” Sam asked Maurice.
“You mean the translator? Less than a minute.”
“That fast?”
“It’s the greatest magical wonder in all the Web.” The doctor shrugged his shoulders.
“And no one knows how it works,” Farris said. “Makes you think whether we really should keep putting that artifact in our brains and our children’s brains.”
“Remind us again, who is it that was given the Sarechi Royal Living Armor?” Dan asked him.
“The Living Armor is also Reshan technology?” Sam asked.
“Almost everything that’s top of the line when it comes to killing people is of Reshan make,” Farris said. “And almost every artifact of Reshan make is designed to kill people. It’s like they made the translator in order to atone for all the other horrible shit they made.”
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“Right… like their flying fortress things. What were they called?”
“Holdworlds.” Farris laughed bitterly. “That’s probably the most basic knowledge of the Epiraks there is. How’d you manage to forget it?”
“Get off my back, will you? I just got here. I should be getting credit for remembering the names of stuff. You know how many names and terms I’ve come up against in the last couple of days?”
Farris laughed much more heartily this time. “Fair enough. Just make sure not to forget my niece’s name.”
“Sure. Ike, was it?”
“Who is Ike anyway?”
“Are you serious? It’s Eisenhower’s nickname. How do you know who Eisenhower is and not know his nickname?”
“I also don’t know his first name. You think that just because I am so smart and clever and handsome that I can remember every facet of Terran history?”
“Why do you know even know a single facet of Terran history?”
“Now that’s just rude. Why wouldn’t I be interested in the history of any of the allied races?”
“Fair enough. I guess knowing some history is normal. But you don’t strike as knowing only some history. So let’s do a test. Dan, do you know who Dwight Eisenhower was?”
“Sure. American general in the Second World War who later became president. Don’t know his party though. The Americans only had two, right?”
“Hm… Let’s not get into it right now. Point is, you only got it because we already said it, right?”
“Of course not. I already knew about it.”
“Hm…” Sam’s face contorted
“If it helps your argument,” Maurice said. “I didn’t know who he was.”
“What? Really? But, but… you’re… normal. You’re from my, our, time. How can you not know who Eisenhower was?”
Maurice shrugged. “I was still a kid when I was taken. And I had more important things on my mind than knowing the names of American presidents. Still do, as a matter of fact.”
“But he’s literally the guy who liberated your country! OK, a little bit of hyperbole maybe, but I’d still expect a French person to know who was in charge of D-Day, wouldn’t you?”
“Evidently not.”
“What about de Gaulle? Do you know him?”
“Oui, le Général. One time.” He chuckled. “I almost failed a test because I couldn’t remember where he was born. Last minute I either managed to remember or I simply guessed that it was Lille. Still failed, though. Wonder why I remember that?” His face turned melancholy.
“Maybe it’s your subconscious’s way of reminding you what’s really important in life.”
“Knowing where old people were born?”
“Knowing your history.”
“Ah! Now that you put it that way. I do know the name of the first person ever to score a goal in the world cup. And it just so happens that he was French. Does that count as proper history to you?”
Sam grit his teeth. “Unfortunately, football does fall under the purview of proper history, what with it leading to war that one time. Not to mention all the sportswashing that was all the rage a hundred years ago.”
The conversation lapsed at that point, with Maurice and Dan taking the lead and Sam and Farris following behind them. Dan then got a call and stepped to the side of the road to take it, following them from some distance behind. Maurice kept his taciturn silence while starting ahead. At least, that was what Sam hoped he was doing. Surely he wasn’t going down some painful memory lane because Sam brought forth old memories. Turning to his right, Sam saw that Farris was intent on examining him. And in yet another display of the absurdity of the Ruler’s behavior, he didn’t flinch in the slightest or shy away once caught in the act. Instead, Farris simply smiled a wide, almost predatory smile. “What?” Sam finally asked.
“Oh, don’t mind me. Just taking a look at your threads. Never had a chance to examine a newly returned Taken, you know? I’ll have to jot it all down later. Maybe there’s something we can learn from you.”
“My threads? What could you possibly learn from them?”
Farris tsked. “Now, now, don’t go rushing ahead. You’ll learn all that you want, and much more than any reasonable person can stomach, of threads and their mystery once you reach level 1 and can begin your studies. And all that you’ll learn from others will be dwarfed by what you can only learn by yourself. Remind me in a couple of years, after you’ve become a Ruler, and I’ll give you my diagram of what your threads looked like as a younger man. Then, you’ll be free to come to your own conclusions, just as I am now.” Sam began flailing his hands around, trying to disrupt whatever it was that the older Thread-Weaver was seeing. “That doesn’t work.” Farris chuckled.
Releasing a defeated sigh, Sam had no recourse but to let the weirdo keep on scrutinizing his ‘threads.’ Instead, he decided that he should probably send a message to Sarah and his two newly gained—and not to be thought of as a single unit at all—friends. He let it be known in the group chat that he finally got his magic; that he was completely fine and was now on his way to get a translator. Yvessa didn’t respond, Felix sent a thumbs up, and Sarah expressed the importance of still waiting for them with breakfast by using several exclamation marks.
Sam put his phone back and was free to let his mind wander while observing the scenery. He was glad to notice that despite being accompanied by a big shot like Farris, he was less a source of attention than he was yesterday. Hopefully, in a couple of days, everyone would get their curiosity satisfied and he can go back to the safe confines of anonymity. It was just after his mind finished its wandering and settled on a topic that he was brought back from his internal debate by a tap on his shoulders.
“Finally finished?” he asked Farris.
“Indeed, got it all here.” Farris pointed to his head. “And here.” He pointed to a notebook that immediately disappeared into thin air.
“Good for you.”
“Good for all us, hopefully. But now that duty is dealt with, that leaves me free for us to return to our discussion, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Yes. Or… you could let me go back to what I was just in the middle of, which was trying to determine what counts as ‘proper’ history that people ought to learn and what doesn’t.”
“I’ve been down that road before. I highly doubt that you’ll be able to figure it out in the next couple of minutes.”
“Now we’ll never know, will we? And I was just in the middle of trashing Marx. Whatever… What did you say you want to talk about?”
“Oh, so very many things. For most of which I do believe you are the sole possible conversational partner.”
“I’m not telling you anything private.”
“Come now. Your circumstances might make you unique in all the Web, but it doesn’t mean that your personality and life story from before are as uniquely interesting.”
“They very much aren’t. But I’ve been known to get good reviews after embellishing them with a great heaping of self-deprecating jokes.”
“Hmm… yes. I’ve been made aware of some of those. But there’ll be time for us to get to know each other better later. For now, it’s not your own private stories which I am after. But rather the public stories to which you’ve been privy to. Terran history and culture that is lost to everyone but you, its sole inheritor.”
“Why do you care so much about Terran crap?”
Farris clapped his hands. “And this is precisely where we left off. You were in the middle of lecturing me that my knowledge about Terran history was unnatural.”
“I’m pretty sure I didn’t put it so gently.”
“How you put it doesn’t matter all that much to me. What does matter is that you keep bringing that up, and it prevents us from furthering our discussion on this very topic.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Every time I try to ask you something about Terran history or culture, let alone pop-culture, you’ve shot me down by claiming it’s weird for me to be interested in the subject.”
Sam shrugged. “Well, excuse me for finding it weird that an elf would care so much about human, I mean Terran, culture. Usually it’s the other way around, you know?”
“From my experience, that really isn’t so.”
Sam paused in thought. His process of sorting through his memories of stories where elves looked down upon humans was then disrupted when he was so pointedly reminded that those were fiction and this, at least until contrary evidence presented itself, was real life. “Really?” he stammered the question. “Fascinating. So wait, it’s a trend among elves to be interested in Terran culture? Is it modern stuff, I mean stuff from my time, or is it older stuff? Or is it modern modern culture?”
“A little of everything, I suppose. But most interest, and I can personally attest to that, is put upon the era just before your integration. The most technologically advanced society ever to exist, while also being wholly untouched by magic. It might not sound like much to you, but living in a world without magic is a completely foreign aspect to every other race in the Web. That’s what drew me, at least, to be interested in Terran history.”
“Wow. Romanticizing humanity… you don’t get a whole lot of that in fiction. Modern ones, at least. So that makes you what, a terraboo? I guess that I can get behind that. And it’s not that weird in the grand scheme of things, I suppose… It’s not like you try to act like a Terran or anything obnoxious like that. I mean, that wouldn’t work though, right? Terran is this huge category of people. There can’t be one Terran dress code that you’re supposed to emulate. Or one Terran language that your kind of weirdos want to… learn about—Wait. How can I understand you? I thought that the translator only works for input, not output.”
“Correct.”
“So?”
“I’m speaking English, obviously. You just now noticed it?”
“Why do you know English? Yvessa said she only knew it because it was also taught to her as a child. I find it hard to believe that they had a reason to teach you English before you could trace.”
Farris sighed. “You’re right about that. Had to learn it all on my own as an adult. I tell you, it’s so fucking hard to learn a language, especially when you have to keep turning the translator off when you want to study. And the worst thing is! It wasn’t even fucking worth it! I thought that by learning the language I’d be able to appreciate the culture even more, but I didn’t! It didn’t do shit! The translator is so fucking magic that it does everything better than natively knowing the language, and unlike a normal person, it knows every word. And you have so many of them.”
“That is… so… lame. It’s even lamer than it is for the usual suspects because you could already understand the language as a native.”
“Laugh all you want. I might have wasted my time, but I’ll still be something you’ll never be: bilingual.”
“That’s not true. While I stopped being one when I learned my third language, there’s still the possibility that I will eventually forget it and go back to being a simple bilingual like you.”
“Languages of the same race don’t count as different.”
“Says who?”
“Your future commander.”
“I thought you were already my commander. Am I not part of the military yet?” he asked Dan, back from his phone call, as they were following Maurice into the hospital.
“You are. But as long as you remain a cadet, you’re under the jurisdiction of Home Command, which is nominally independent from Eastern Command, and thus Farris.”
“Ach. You just reminded me that I’m technically a cadet. Isn’t there a way for me to like… not be in charge of anyone?”
“Of course. You don’t have to be in command if you don’t want to. And you won’t if you end up not suitable for it. You’re only given an officer’s rank because of your potential for strength. And just because you’re strong doesn’t mean you’re also suited for leading people in combat.”
“Ain’t that the truth?” Farris sighed. “If we could completely adopt the Terran military’s chain of command, it’s ideal form at least. It would save me a hell of a lot of headaches from stupid officers and even stupider generals whose only qualification is that they’re noble-born Rulers.”
“Don’t you fall under that category?” Sam asked.
“What are you even talking about? I’m not anything like those prissy bastards. They’re simple nobles while I am a royal. There is a world of difference. I’m in charge of the military because my sister is in charge of the government, and that’s just how the kingdom works. It’s the proper and legitimate structure of governance that gives me my job.”
“You’re right. That’s soooo much better.”
“Hey! At least in our case, the military is actually subservient to the civilian government. Go ahead, tell your prime minster to give an order to your general staff that your Rulers won’t like. Watch as nothing happens.”
“Is that true?” Sam asked the other two Terrans. Maurice didn’t respond, simply opening the door to his office and proceeding to walk over towards his desk.
Dan shrugged. “In a way. But it’s not like we’re living in a military junta of some sort. The army doesn’t interfere in civilian matters and the civilian government doesn’t interfere in military matters. That’s pretty much how it is all across the Web. Either the strongest people, read Chosen, who are in charge of the military, are also in charge of the government. Or, you can keep the two separate so that each will be headed by the people most suited for the role.”
“Then we still have… well, not still, cause let’s face it, having the word democracy or republic in your country’s name didn’t mean much. But the Terran Republic is a republic, right? We a democracy?”
“Oh, very much so.” Farris nodded. “An exemplary parliamentary republic where no matter your political affiliations, chances are you’re satisfied with the election results.”
“That doesn’t sound plausible.”
“Oh, but it is. That’s because the current government, and indeed every government since the republic’s inception, has been a part of a majority coalition that represented more than eighty-five percent of the electorate.”
“Oh. Oh! That’s it? I thought it was going to be much more awful than that. Like there’s only one party or something. So it’s just that there’s a continuous national unity government? Ain’t nothing wrong with that. We’re in a war against literal evil, after all.”
“Here we go,” said Maurice while beckoning Sam towards one of the chairs sat opposite his desk. In his hand, held in a simple pinch, was a small circular piece of metal with a glossy sheen.
“That’s it?” Sam asked. There wasn’t anything on the item to denote that it was anything other than a piece of iron with some pretty carvings.
“Yes, yes. It’s a whole marvel of Reshan engineering. Now let’s get to it.”
Sam held back any further complaint and concern and settled down on the chair with Maurice hovering above him. The doctor nodded reassuringly and stuck the piece of metal to his forehead. Then he stepped back. “All done,” he said. “Now just wait a couple of seconds for your body to finish absorbing it, and once you’re able, trace magic through the new pattern in your skull.”
“What?” Sam shook his head in bewilderment. “That’s it? You just stuck that on me like it was a star sticker and your were my kindergarten teacher. I could have done that myself.”
“Indeed.”
“Most people just order a translator for their kids when they reach twelve,” Dan said while talking a sit next to Sam. “Then whenever the child gets their magic, they already have it on hand to put it on themselves. It really is that simple.”
“So what level of infantility does that leave me at? Seeing as I had to have three grown adults, three very powerful grown adults, accompanying me for this simple occasion.”
“A royal,” answered Ferris with a toothy smile.
“In your dreams…” Sam denied the insult and was stopped from going on another tirade only by the entirety of his mental focus condensing inwards and upwards. It was like something was pinging his attention at the inside of his skull, and when he turned his mind to the mental irritant, a complex formation appeared before him. He could “see” what must have been the pattern rotating lazily around the left part of his brain while at the same time rotating around itself. At first glance, the pattern appeared blurry and undecipherable and when he tried having a closer look, which, amazingly enough, worked just as it sounded, the only difference was the pattern appearing less circular but still just as blurry.
“So how do I do this?” Sam asked once he finished his initial assessment of the second magical amalgamation inside of his head. “Just trace through it? Oh wait, never mind.” The moment he asked the question out loud, he turned his mind towards trying to trace towards where the pattern was located in his head and connected to his pathways, just like he did with his hand before. Only this time, the magic was drawn much more easily and immediately formed a connection with the artifact’s pattern. He could feel the magical energy circling around inside the pattern while at the same time more of it was being drawn from his core, appearing exactly at the onset of the pattern.
“I think I got it,” Sam said. “How do we make sure?”
“If you traced magic through the artifact than it works,” Farris said in his native tongue, only Sam had to take a couple of seconds in order to realize that Farris wasn’t speaking English anymore because his understanding of what the Ruler said was just as natural. “Believe me, the translator’s pattern is pretty much perfect. Continuous cycling with no chance of outside disruption, self-gathering, no resistance. It’s so good that if we could make sense of it, we’d just teach kids how to trace, imprint and study patterns by having them observe it.”
“Man… It just sucks that it worked cause that would have been real embarrassing if wasn’t able to understand you just now.”
“I could try again. Want me to speak in gibberish and you’ll act like you don’t understand me?”
“That sounds great. But wait, what if you end up speaking in a real language? How does this thing even translate, anyway?”
“Magic,” answered Farris.
“No one really knows,” explained Maurice at the same time. “We don’t know how any of it works, the science or the magic behind it. What it does is give you perfect understating, as though you were a native speaker and reader, of any language that’s stored in the artifact’s shared database.”
“But,” Sam said, “doesn’t that might mean that it will still translate gibberish if there is a meaning for that word in some stored language?”
“It works on intent,” Farris said. “First the speaker’s and then the listener’s. So if the speaker isn’t thinking that what they’re saying is a word, then the artifact won’t translate it. So, even if a listener is thinking that the speaker speaks in a real language, he won’t be able to understand it. But, if there is no speaker with intent, for example in a recording, then only the listener’s intent matters, which is when you have people making sense of gibberish sometimes.”
“That sounds extremely convoluted.” Sam furrowed his brows.
“You wanted the explanation. Most people just hear ‘universal translator,’ nod their heads and go about their life. Happy and secure in their ability to understand people of all creeds and cultures without giving that fact a second thought.”
“I find that hard to believe. Surely most people have questions about this sort of stuff? You agree with me right Maurice?”
The doctor turned his head sideways in a weak affirmation. “I was inquisitive like you are when I was first given the translator. But Sarah wasn’t, for example. So take that as you may.”
“I’ll take that as a reason to make fun of her later, if that’s what you mean. So, are we done here or is there another test I need to go through to make sure my head doesn’t blow up?”
“I was wondering when you were finally going to make that joke. And no, as far as I’m concerned, you’re free to go. Although, remember to contract me the whenever you feel a sudden change of mood. That is a sign your mind has finished acclimating to interacting with magic. But I’ll still have to do a test to make sure that’s what happened.”
“You got it! When I feel like killing myself all of a sudden, you’ll be the first person I call.”
“It wouldn’t be so drastic a change. Hopefully.”