by INDIRA CHARUNDER-MACHARRUNDEIRA, Alternate Reality News Service Literature Writer
Hand gestures are a poor substitute for the English language. Especially when you're trying to say: "walk two fingers along a tabletop scissors snip thumb stuck in the air looping motion with second finger at head."
Unfortunately, since the English language was irreversibly broken, alternate forms of communication had to be found.
When I first came to Earth Prime 2-8-2-5-0-1 dash omicron, my only knowledge of what was happening was the assignment "English language broken - check it out." For somebody who runs a news service, my boss can be rather uncommunicative [EDITRIX-IN-CHIEF BRENDA BRUNDTLAND-GOVANNI: This is a reminder that management may monitor works in progress for its own amusement. This is only a reminder: had this been a real monitoring, your ass would probably already by fired!]...and, yet, surprisingly despite this terseness, she always manages to get her point across.
Customs Officers at the multiport where I entered the universe had been given preprinted cards that indicated what they wanted us to do. For example: one card showed an Officer watching while somebody opened a suitcase. Another card showed an Officer pointing angrily at the ground as somebody held tight to the reigns of the emu they were riding. Another card showed a woman in a monkey mask taking off her blouse as half a dozen uniformed Officers danced what appeared to be a hora around her. Obvious multiport safety issues, really.
However, not realizing the extent of the problem, I continually tried to engage the Customs Officer in conversation. Finally, I pretended to run away from her. You know, just to get a reaction. Tossing aside a card that shows a woman coming to a halt amid armed guards (possibly doing the mambo), she angrily shouted after me, "Accomplishment! Accomplishment chesterfield the and bacon moving superannuated black trench reading!"
The taser to my back made the point much more eloquently than words ever could.
Six weeks and one interdimensional incident later, the misunderstanding was cleared up and I was allowed on the planet proper.
What had happened? I asked Phil D'Armani, Leo Gorcey Chair of Language Studies at The New School fer Social Dessert. And, when I say I asked, I actually mean I shrugged and Gorcey understood what I meant.
Our discussion was labouriously slow, even though I was using a hand gestures to English dictionary that I had studied while detained at the Transdimensional Authority's leisure. Over a period of three days, the story I was able to piece together was: right wing American operatives had, for many years, devalued the language by altering the meaning of words to suit their political agenda. For example: war hero, which once meant somebody who had done something heroic in the midst of battle, was used to describe somebody who voted for a war appropriations bill even though he had never been in a war zone.
The tipping point came when the word "socialist" accrued 127 meanings, including: Marxist communist; Ponzi scheme artist; anarchist; gay (in whichever use of the term the listener would find most offensive); wildebeest; zombie; pungent; degraded; Leninist Communist; nihilist; tetchy; made of fine Corinthian leather; bedwetting; prone to sneezing; plangent; DiscoBobulated...discombobulatted...Discworldovula - confused, and; hairy in unattractive places. People started using common words in ways they had not been used before, and were angry when others did not seem to understand what they were saying. Families were broken apart. Twelve people were killed and 37 wounded when an argument broke out at a virtual reality complex over the meaning of the word "the." The French laughed their asses off (or, more accurately, laughed off their asses - they mirthfully fell off their burros).
One more meaning added to the growing list of definitions of "socialist" - "cherry-flavoured" - broke the English language. Words had become unMoored (Demi, not Michael or Roger) from their meanings and communication in English was no longer possible.
This was known, in what academia remained, as "Humpty Dumpty Syndrome" for the way the language cracked under pressure (although, unlike the eggy, Dodgsony character, it did not make a tasty breakfast for all the king's horses and all the king's men). There is still a lot to know about the Syndrome, although the necessity of writing journal articles in pictograms and using hand gestures at conferences has made the dissemination of ideas in academia much more time-consuming (although, arguably, much more entertaining).
D'Armani touched the tip of his nose with his second finger, and I knew I had the story more or less correct.
When I noticed a large quill feather in an inkpot on D'Armani's desk, I pointed at it and shrugged. To my surprise, he responded, "C'est...uhh...c'est la...la...umm...c'est la plume de ma...ma...ma..."
"Tante?" I helpfully suggested.
D'Armani made an angry face, like I had just taunted his - oooooh. No, wait. Before I could figure out how he could take my statement as an insult, he impatiently lifted some papers off his desk with one hand and pointed at the door with the other.
No translation necessary, I immediately left the office.