Chapter 105 – The Language
Translated by: ShawnSuh
Edited by: SootyOwl
Juho walked on the sidewalk surrounded. Cars zoomed past on one side while people walked busily on the other. There were hardly any trees. Walking on the streets like that resulted in all sorts of encounters. Pieces of gum, saliva, dog stools, trash, dead insects, leaves and, sometimes, even pieces of raw meat. Of course, those weren't the only things found on the streets. From time to time, there was a ring or money that pedestrians had dropped. Juho had come out to find those very things.
He had come out to think of a gift for the protagonist of his new novel. Though he had said that he didn't want anything in particular, giving gifts was up to the giver. Juho thought about what the protagonist might like and remembered that, in their last encounter, they came to learn that they had a lot in common. Though the protagonist took offense to being compared to Juho, he too was sensitive to language. There were enormous plateaus and high mountains in the world he came from. Every region was divided by a clear boundary, and they had different cultures and languages.
Language. As a gift for him, Juho wanted to create a world where there was diversity of language.
Now, he was out on a walk in search for clues and ideas for those languages. Sounds of wind, cars, and people. Keeping his ears open, Juho kept walking.
"Careful. Easy."
"Move, please."
"Ugh, this thing's heavy!"
A group of people moving a heavy object came into Juho's view. A large moving truck. Boxes. Wrapped up furniture. It was apparent that somebody was moving. A large wardrobe stood with its mouth wide open. The mother-of-pearl inlays showed their age. Juho was impressed by its appearance, which was both detailed and beautiful. Sadly, it was being thrown out.
"What are you doin'?"
With a cigarette in her mouth, a woman wearing shorts and a sleeveless shirt was looking in Juho's direction. Judging from the way she was dressed, she seemed to be from the neighborhood. Perhaps, she was a neighbor of the family who was moving out. Her appearance had a striking resemblance to the mother in 'The Sound of Wailing.' Because the novel wasn't all that far from the reality, there had to be people who looked similar.
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Juho answered her question honestly, "I'm watching."
"What is there to watch?"
"A bunch of things. People moving things, or the wardrobe right there."
"You're a weird one. Well, whatever floats your boat," said the woman, taking a deep drag off her cigarette. Juho redirected his attention to the furniture that was being thrown out. Smaller things were consolidated into a box. Toys, bowls, a vase, screws, bells, and an arrow. Juho picked up the arrow. Though it was covered in rust, it still looked like an arrow. 'Why did they have an arrow? What do these people do?' Juho wondered. The pile of trash was proving to be much more fun than it looked.
"An arrow?" said the woman. She must have been bored smoking on her own. Because he didn't mind the company, Juho willingly answered, "Yep. That's an arrow."
The arrow looked like it would snap in half at any given opportunity. It was clear that it hadn't been taken good care of. Juho examined it and wondered, 'What kind of language would a race who used arrows regularly speak?' It would be a language that resembled a sharp, pointy arrow.
"Why do you think those people had an arrow?"
"Maybe they wanted to go hunting," said the woman half-heartedly, taking another drag of her cigarette. Juho played along.
"On horseback?"
"Probably? With a dog too, maybe."
"They might have worn clothes made of leather."
"Maybe they're from somewhere cold."
They each shared their respective image of what a hunter looked like. Though she may have been killing time idly, Juho was in the middle of a creative process.
"What kind of language do you think those people would speak?"
"Language? What kind of question is that?" she asked, her forehead scrunching into a scowl. She seemed to be having trouble understanding him. Despite the look on her face however, she gave an answer, "Probably not too different from the one we speak."
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"Why is that?" Juho asked.
A race who carried arrows for hunting, rode on horses, wore leather clothing and...
"Well, whether it's hunting or any other job out there, it's all done by humans. Languages are essentially the same at the end of the day."
"There are hundreds of different languages around the world."
"Is that so?"
"What about letters that look like arrows?" Juho took the opportunity to ask.
Breathing out a cloud of smoke, she tilted her head, "I guess it'd look fine."
Again, a half-hearted answer. Her demeanor made it apparent that she had lost interest. Juho smiled at her blunt attitude.
"I'll go with that then."
"Are you working on something? Like writing?" Though having asked herself, she gave no time for Juho to answer and said, "Well, break a leg kid."
She asked no further questions and smoked her cigarette in silence. The furniture was moving from one place to another. Once she finished smoking, she tossed the cigarette butt on the ground and put it out. With that, she walked away.
"Take care," Juho said. With her hands in her pocket, she looked back briefly and went on her way. After picking up her cigarette butt from the ground and tossing it into a trashcan, Juho brushed his hand against the wardrobe once and went on his way.
"Number 18, read the text out loud for us."
"Yes, ma'am."
Number 18 stumbled her way through the text. Her pronunciation made it apparent that she didn't speak the language regularly. Juho lowered his head and looked at his textbook. The alphabet was written down – a western set of letters. Staring at it intently, he listed the languages he had learned up to that point. Greek, Medieval English, Old English, Latin, Old Scandinavian, Gothic, Medieval Welsh, Finnish, Spanish, Italian, Swedish, Danish, Norwegian, Dutch, Lombardic, Russian, Cantonese, Mandarin, Hu, Japanese, etc.
Listening to number 18, Juho moved his hand busily. He had had an idea for what the characters in the novel should look like. He had found a clue during his encounter with the woman smoking her cigarette.
Text had its origin in paintings. Ancient humans left records of their cultures in paintings. Painting had always been visual. Like an arrow, it always had a target. Baron often sketched the club members. Paintings had limits when it came to describing what was being seen. The world grew more and more complex from its inception, and inevitably, the number of things that couldn't be explained with paintings grew. Humans learned to speak in different ways. Indirectly, sarcastically, exaggeratedly, and many more. The desire of wanting to express unseen emotions has lead to the evolution of the written language.
The language Juho was about to create for his novel would be the same way. It had changed over time, just as any language had. For the time being, he divided languages into two separate categories: one western and the other eastern. He thought about the hieroglyphs commonly seen in artifacts of various ancient civilizations. Made after shapes of their subject, Chinese characters were one of the more typical hieroglyph. Straight lines, curved, dots, and again, straight lines again. It was still closer to being a drawing than a letter.
The shape of a character evolved over time to make it easier to write and closer to its sound rather than meaning. In order to replicate that, Juho felt the need to remove the preexisting nature of a language. A bow snapped in half while an arrow was left with only its head.
The language in Juho's mind began to take more shape, becoming gradually sharper. Over time, it evolved into shapes that could be easily written with a writing tool as basic as a tree branch. In some sense, the characters resembled spears, swords, and bows. Taking those letters, Juho divided them and distributed them to various races. Spear-like characters for the race that used spears as its primary choice of weapon, sword-like characters for those who used swords, bow-like characters for those who used bows, etc. Weapons became worn out over time and throughout their use. In a similar manner, a language developed or devolved depending on culture and lifestyle. A weapon was not necessary for those who weren't hunters. The only time it would be used in a way that was remotely close its intended purpose was in the kitchen. That wasn't bad. It was a natural change that came with the choices made.
As time passed, hieroglyphs began to fade into history while phonograms came into existence. Juho sped up the evolution of language in his world. The characters took on shapes that were even simpler and spread throughout the world by mouth. Certain languages became more widely used than others. The empty space in the textbook filled up with a language no one had ever seen before.
He focused on the eastern languages. Of course, the first example that came to mind was Chinese. Despite being hieroglyphic in nature, it had survived the test of time. While every other civilization adopted a new language that focused on sound, the Chinese were standing strong against that worldwide evolution, and it was one of the most widely spoken languages to that very day.
"There was a sound of wave breaking in the distance."
Number 18 read from her textbook out loud. A language that remained unchanged throughout the course of time. That was what Juho wanted to make for the protagonist and his world.
Juho began to draw his ideas on his textbook. Straight lines, curves, and dots. There was something special about that language. The characters were bunched up tightly, making it difficult to snap in half like a bow. Juho contemplated on how he could go about making it distinguishable. It was difficult to write, and the characters left very little room for simplification. He found himself having two choices. Either the race had to endure the inconvenience of writing or create another written language that was based on the preexisting characters. Regions under the influence of the eastern language would choose to take either directions, leading to the birth of various other languages. Unfortunately, those languages tended to be exceedingly complex and were often outlasted by other simpler languages. Though beautiful and delicate, they eventually became lost and forgotten.
Taking those characteristics, Juho decided to make the language nearly impossible to interpret.
The role of arranging and translating that language would belong to the protagonist.
Because a language had its time in history, another one had to be used. Using a language from another region would be incredibly undignifying. The ruler commanded his people to create a language of their own. This would be the beginning of the story.
Having run out of space, Juho turned the page of his textbook and continued scribbling. A new language. West and East. Flipping words and their shapes back and forth, he came up with languages to be spoken by the people in various regions. Those who lived in between regions would often learn both languages. Certain languages would be praised whereas others would be neglected and looked down on.
Having rolled the idea around in his head, Juho tried to bring the languages into his mouth in order to think of the pronunciation of their words. Savoring it in his mouth slowly, he thought of phonetics that were both fluid and difficult to understand. He jotted them down next to the characters he had created on the textbook. Some sounding thin and sharp, some thick and dull.
As the language began to take shape, the lifestyle of the people also began to take shape. From the way they dressed, and what they ate, Juho began to understand their culture. It was exhilarating.
While examining the language he had created, he remembered the being he had been forgetting about. God. There was a God who had hid himself in the high mountains. He wanted to create a separate language for Him.
Searching for elements that would make up the language spoken by God, Juho revisited the memory of his recent walk on the street. Gum, stools, pieces of meat, ring, money, wall, people, cars, noise, leaves, furniture. Nothing was useful. Juho began to move his pen subconsciously, writing 'God, God, God,' in Hangul.
'God? It's a word. A character. Phonogram.'
Various smaller elements came together, becoming one. Juho recognized the Creator immediately. He had learned to write Hangul before any other language, and he had been well-acquainted of its beauty and magnificence. Filling his textbook in black ink, he gathered all the source materials he would need to create the ideal world for his novel.Chapter 106 – The God in the Mountains
Translated by: ShawnSuh
Edited by: SootyOwl
"Ah, that's nice," Juho murmured, sipping on his beverage after a run through the park.
Having come out later than usual, Juho slowly made his way back home as he watched other people walking. Sung Pil hadn't been joining Juho in his morning exercise because of a book he was working on. Juho asked no further. He only hoped that Sung Pil would finish strong.
"Hey, move!"
"No! You move!"
Juho stopped in his tracks at an argument sounding from the playground. A brother and sister were bickering in the sandbox. 'Sand. Bickering.' Juho couldn't pass that on. He slowly sat himself on a nearby bench.
There were all sorts of things in the playground. A jungle gym, a seesaw, a miniature castle with a ladder cutting across it, a tower with ropes tangling from it, etc. There was a long line by the seesaw, and the kids on the seesaw and in the line glanced at each other uncomfortably.
Juho looked at the brother and sister intently. With its boundary surrounded by old car tires, the sandbox was rather large. A few of those tires seemed to have finally caved in after withstanding the weight of countless children. While the girl was building a sand castle, her brother was waiting for an opportunity to knock it down. Realizing his intention, the sister picked up a toy shovel in her hand as a means of resistance.
It was a war surrounding the castle. Sipping on his beverage, Juho spectated the battle curiously. Who would win?
Despite the fierce dispute between brother and sister, other children in the playground seemed to be completely unfazed by them.
"Hey, I see a butterfly!"
"So?"
The brother tried desperately to distract his sister. However, the sister kept her guard up. She was not an easy opponent. Realizing that his strategy had failed, he made another move.
"Mom was looking for you."
Her expression grew darker with anxiety, looking back and forth between the castle and her family in the distance. It was hard to tell if he was telling the truth. She contemplated.
"Then, you come with me."
She had made a decision. She would be able to answer her mother's call while the castle remained intact. A great strategy. Juho was impressed by her.
"There ya go!" exclaimed Juho in an exaggerated voice.
On the other hand, the brother wasn't quick to show his emotions. With a toy shovel in her hand, the sister rose from her place. Then...
"Hehehe!"
"Huh!?"
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The second she let her guard down, his foot landed on top of the castle. Just like that, the sand castle fell to the mischievous brother.
'What happens now?' Juho kept his eyes fixated on the two children. The sister raged at the sight of her castle reduced to mere pile of sand. It was obvious that she was looking to retaliate. At that moment, she raised her hand holding the toy shovel. Before Juho had time to intervene, the girl swung the toy shovel, hitting the brother's head. Looking frightened, the brother put his hand on his head. Then...
"Wahhh!"
He started to cry. The sister appeared to be taken aback by her brother's reaction. Who would have thought a toy shovel would make for such an effective weapon?
"What's wrong, honey!?"
The mother came rushing toward them and held the boy. Gasping for breath, he testified about what his sister had done. With the toy shovel still in her hand, the sister anxiously clasped onto her skirt.
"She hit me. With that. WAH!" he sobbed sorrowfully, pointing at the shovel in his sister's hand.
Eventually...
"He did it first! WAH!"
The sister started to cry. Other children and parents in the playground stared in their direction. Recognizing the attention they were drawing, the mother forcefully wiped the tears off of her children's faces and carried them away from the playground.
While other children sang cheerfully as they played in the sand pool, the castle remained in ruins. Loneliness lingered about those ruins. Looking at the sand, Juho was reminded of the man and woman he had met at the beach. With that, he focused on thinking about the novel. The place where the protagonist would be leaving from and arriving to.
A language tended to be affected by its surrounding environment. The structure and development of the language depended on the choices made by its speakers. What kind of language would God use? In order to communicate with God, one had to know that language.
The image of the protagonist's irritated face crossed Juho's mind, having finally met God after a long, perilous journey, yet unable to communicate with Him. Juho chuckled at the image.
He had decided to use Hangul as the root of the language spoken by God. He planned on creating something that was based on it, bearing some resemblance. God was alone in the high mountains. The only thing visible from His place would be the sky. Juho wanted to create more words that described the sky, where there were the sun and the clouds that led to light and wind. He started to get a feel for the things he needed to emphasize.
In his mind, Juho took the Hangul characters apart, going back to their most basic, initial forms. Leaving only their skeletal structures intact, he tried giving them a different color. 'What would be a fitting color for God?'
"'S'cuse me sir. Could you move your feet?"
'Feet?' Juho looked down. There was a girl sweating profusely. She had to have run around quite a bit. He examined his feet, but saw nothing but sand.
"Why?"
"My ball rolled underneath the bench," said the girl, pointing under the bench. Juho bent down and looked underneath and felt blood rushing to his head. A ball, just behind where his feet had been, came into view. Without hesitation, he handed it to her.
"Thank you," the girl thanked him politely. After giving her a nod, Juho retraced his thoughts. 'Now, where was I?'
"S'cuse me," the girl was still standing in her place. She must have had something to ask.
"Yes?"
"What are you doing?" she asked curiously.
It wasn't clear what had gotten her attention, but Juho answered light-heartedly, "I was thinking about God."
"God?"
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"Do you know who that is?"
"Duh, even I know English. 'Gahd,'" the girl said with a scoff.
"'Gahd?'"
"Yes, that."
"Impressive," Juho complimented her. She shrugged proudly.
"Then, do you know what a mythology is?"
"Mythology?"
"Yep."
She gave no answer that time. Perhaps she knew about God, but not mythology, "The band."
"Impressive!" Juho complimented her again. She was a smart child and she seemed to be in high spirits.
"What kind of language do you think God speaks?"
"Language?"
It looked like she was having trouble understanding him that time, so Juho rephrased the question, "You said you know English, right? Do you think God speaks English?"
"I don't think so."
"Why?"
"Just because."
No apparent reason. Simply, just because. It had been an intuitive answer, and Juho decided to see things from the child's perspective.
"If God said that He'd grant you one wish, what would it be?"
At the word 'wish,' the girl started to twist her body. She was probably shy about talking about what she wanted.
"So, I was watching TV yesterday."
"Uh, huh."
"I saw something that I've been really craving."
"What is it?"
"It has red broth."
"Red broth, huh. Is it spicy?"
ចំណុចប្រទាក់ខ្មែរប្រពៃណី – ប៉ុន្តែការលេងហ្គេមទំនើបណាស់។
KH999 - វិបផតថលហ្គេមកាស៊ីណូដ៏ល្បីល្បាញឈានមុខគេនៅ Cambodia
"Yes. That's why my mom never buys it for me."
Smart child. She already knew that having a wish meant longing for something that couldn't be possessed.
"Are there noodles in it?"
"No, rice cakes."
She was talking about tteokbokki. At the sight of an innocent child asking God for some tteokbokki, Juho couldn't help but chuckle. The almighty God before her eyes, and yet, she would ask for mere tteokbokki. If Juho were in her shoes, he would have asked for something much larger. For example...
"I'd ask for money."
"Huh?"
A slightly older boy was standing next to her.
"Money?"
"Yeah. Money's the best," the boy said, looking and sounding confident.
"Really?"
"I was told that all things yield to money."
"Who told you that?"
"My mom." The boy glanced over in a direction, and a woman who appeared to be his mother was standing in front of a stroller.
"Hey, you should ask for money too," the boy said to the girl.
"Why?"
"You can buy yourself tteokbokki with it."
"No! I want my mom's tteokbokki!"
"You're stupid. It costs money to make tteokbokki too."
"We're rich."
"We're rich too!"
A new conversation had emerged between the two children. Listening to them, Juho quickly spotted the girl's mother. She was standing by the swings, holding the hand of a boy who appeared to be the girl's brother. Their eyes met, and Juho greeted her with a smile and nod. The mother nodded back with a smile, but her eyes were fixed on her daughter.
Finally, she called for her daughter. Without even saying goodbye, the girl ran toward her mother. The boy too ran toward the pull-up bars. Juho thought as he watched them from behind, 'Money... The value of it changes constantly. It's different in every region. It could mean everything in some places, but it might not even exist in others.' Juho organized his thoughts, thinking about the characteristics he wanted to grant the different regions in his novel.
"I'm getting hungry."
Tteokbokki. Red broth.
God lived alone in the high mountains. In order to meet God, the protagonist embarked on a journey. Unfortunately, Juho had no intention of making it smooth sail for him. 'I need obstacles. Red liquid. Like blood.' It was more than enough as an element of danger. The mountains where God lived were on an island surrounded by streams of crimson-colored water, hot enough to cover the faces of those nearby in tears and snot. It was poisonous. If it ended up in a person's mouth, it would severely damage their stomachs.
Juho thought about the song the children had been singing repeatedly at the playground. It had been a familiar melody. He walked toward the empty sandbox. There were arches made by the children who had been playing there. They were large and thick, but abandoned. He imagined hiding God in them. A red ocean, a northern island, glaciers and a hole within it surrounded by arches. It lacked one thing.
"The sky wouldn't be visible from a place like that."
He poked another hole on the opposite end. The arch barely managed to maintain its shape. The new hole made the interior of the arch more visible. The outside would be visible from the inside as well. There was another pair of holes on the top that resembled a pair of eyes. 'What would it be like to look out from within? It'd look like the sky had a pair of eyes. Like God.'
Until the arrival of the girl, Juho had been thinking of ways to give the language that would be spoken by God a color. 'What did the kid say?' Feet. Juho looked down, and saw nothing but his shoes. However, he knew full well what was inside them. He tried moving his toes. 'There's a person inside them. The color of a person. Varied yet distinct colors.'
'Would the God in the mountains be an actual God? Would God listen to what the protagonist had to say?' Juho thought as he slowly made his way out of the sandbox.