Language Barrier

El'alha knew three languages; unfortunately, none were the one those in the courtroom were speaking.  She knew they were discussing her, but could only judge what was happening by their faces and voice quality.  El'a had been arrested two nights ago, but she did not know why.  She only knew she had been arrested because they locked her in a cell with three other females.  Again, the others only spoke one language, and it wasn't one of hers.  She asked in every way possible to speak to her family or a translator, but either she wasn't understood, or she was ignored.

This morning, an angry man in a too-large suit ordered a guard to let her out and they sat in a room with windows and a large table to talk.  She figured out the man was probably a lawyer, but he only spoke one language, too.  El'a drew pictures to make him understand, but either he couldn't find a translator, or he didn't understand.

Pageant Question: Compare yourself to your favorite food.

He was in hot water, and he knew it.  Detective Jamison dreaded the meeting he'd have with the chief, seven minutes with him could seem like hours, but he had to get it over with.  Jamison was still stiff from the run in he'd had with the latest suspect, a motorcycle gang member they called Bear, and he needed to try to loosen up.  When he got into the chief's office, though, Jamison realized the man had been hitting the sauce.  It wasn't like Chief to drink, much less during the workday, so something horrible must have happened.  "Chief, you wanted to see me?"  The man's bloodshot eyes and red nose meant more than just the sauce.  "What happened, sir?"

The chief swallowed a couple of times.  "Marianna.  She's...dead."

Detective Jamison couldn't believe the news.  His partner.  Dead.  It couldn't be.  "Where?  How?  How is it possible?  How do you know?"

"Easy now, detective.  It has been confirmed.  But her body hasn't been found."


NOTE: did you get my not-so-subtle hint at one of my favorite foods?  Even the last line has a slightly more subtle hint...

Pageant Question 21: If you could be on the cover of any magazine, which would you chose and why?

I disliked phys workday mainly because seeing to many live people reminded me they were there.  Luckily, my biz only required me to have a phys workday once a month.  The CEO was old-fashioned that way.

As always, the Walks were jam-packed with barely any space between riders.  I didn't know how people did this every day, or why, since telework had an even smaller impact on the eco.  I saved myself extra space by wearing my convection coat and extra-wide brimmed hat.

A great tragedy had happened that morning and I could feel everyone on my Walk go rigid when the news alert popped.  The singer Escelladee was found dead in her home on LA Island.  My Feed didn't usually accept Newstainment stories, but this had graduated to NewsNewsAlert status.

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She wondered what they were talking about.  She always wondered what they were talking about, and she lamented, yet again, her inability to learn the language.  Haro tried to learn, she really did, but she had been told by her prep tutors that not everyone was able to comprehend the complex turnings of the alien tongue.  At their best guess, it was an actual physiological barrier to learning, but that didn't stop Haro from being mad at herself and at Joh, who had picked it up easily.

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Take the chicken, he said. He said. Well, I didn't take no galldang chicken, and where did that land me? Where? In the whohaw. Right in the whohaw. That galldang chicken I never took, and he knows it. He's gone to the grave with it now. To the grave. And ain't I glad? I'm glad. I'm glad.

90

"I think John Pizzell is retarded."

Claire looked over her shoulder at Mike who was sitting at the other computer. "Why is that?"

"Because he refuses to spell check and uses random capital letters in his posts."

Facebook was really beginning to bother Mike who was a stickler for proper English. He couldn't even use abbreviations while texting, but, then again, neither could Claire. "Don't worry, Mike. It's just the breakdown of civilization."

"Yeah, but he's promoting his 'professional' business! He should really try to be professional." Mike closed the Facebook window in frustration. "Are people's brains really being rewired?"

Claire swiveled around in her chair. "Are you asking me to start a new study?"