Gerund

“It looks like an interesting place.”

“Interesting?”

“Yes, interesting!”

“That place?”

“Yes! It's an interesting planet to go to. Lush green fields and spectacular landscapes are covering the planet. It may contain sentient life even, alike to us!”

“Sounds interesting!”

“I told you so!”

“No, I said it sounds interesting. Says you looks interesting.”

“Truth, truth. You’re correct.”

“So we… take their crops, maybe, and take their food and resources?”

“What? No! Instead, we help nurture their empire to be strong! Remember we come in peace?”

“No matter. How long will it take to reach Sol III?”

“We’ll get there soon enough. As for the inhabitants of the ship, ready them for extreme speeds. Ready, Admiral Xeko?”

“I am ready. Are the calculations set for 360 times the speed of light??”

“You sure you are ready?”

“Haven’t I told you?”

“Truth, truth. Now, we shall reach into the beyond!”

-

The naughty dog enjoys running.

“The naughty dog enjoys running,” Mrs. Denver declared out loud, as if she hadn’t just written it down in chalk on the blackboard at the front of the oak-boarded classroom. Ms. Denver’s handwriting was perfect. “Now, class, which word in this sentence is the verb?

Several students raised their hands. I was not among them. 

Mrs. Denver’s extended finger, almost as pale as the chalk it held, hovered ominously before finding its usual victim.

“Kevin, why don’t you tell us?”

I hesitated, shaken since I had been sick the previous day, and this was something that they had probably learned when I was absent.

The naughty dog enjoys running.

“...running?” I answered shakily. 

My tone indicated it was a question, yet she accepted it as an answer.

“Wrong again, Kevin.” 

Mrs. Denver sighed in disappointment and drew her finger to the blackboard, boxing in the word ‘running’ with almost perfect lines. She coldly crossed it out, the sound of the white chalk scratching and squeaking at the board hurting my ears. 

“Running is a gerund in this sentence. We learned this in the last class. Running is now a noun since it’s talking about the idea of running, instead of somebody actually running. Weren’t you paying attention, Kevin?” She sneered my name as she asked me the question.

“I was sick yesterday, Mrs. Denver.” Looking around nervously, I added, “I had gastro.”

She walked over to me and loomed, staring down. It felt like she was growing taller with every breath. 

“Did you? There was also a math test yesterday - seems like it was an awfully convenient time to get gastro.” Her tone was icy. Mrs. Denver spoke coldly yet softly, however it was just loud enough for everyone to hear, a skill she had no doubt carefully honed during her decades of terrorizing students in the classroom.

My hands started to tremble. I hated that she was causing the exact feeling she wanted merely due to her remarks. I shuddered, not sure what to do. I spoke, my voice sounding as weak as I felt: “I-it’s just a-a gerund, Mrs. Denver.”

She pursed her lips as she quickly thought through her response. “Just a gerund, Mr. Adams?” The tension in the room could be cut with a butter knife, and Mrs. Denver narrowed her eyes. “This kind of ignorance is why you will never be able to master the English language. Maybe you’ll make your own language when you’re older that you’ll be able to perfect your usage of. I expect grunts like Neanderthals and a lot of big pictures.”

A rule in English. If I couldn’t master English, then maybe I could make my own language. I don’t think it could be that hard…

Mrs. Denver had been teaching me since the third grade, and I was sick of how she always treated me. She had always targeted me, belittled me, humiliated me in front of the class. I don’t know if it was what she said, how she said it, or the gastro, but I lifted my head, and locked eyes with her.

“You know what? I’m going to make my own language, and by the time I’m done, people won’t even need English. And definitely not gerunds.”

Mrs. Denver was a pro, so her face gave nothing away, but I saw a flicker of surprise in her eyes before they went steely again. 

She leaned in closer. “I’d like to see you try.” 

I didn’t need her challenge; I’d already made up my mind.

“Watch me.” I declared dramatically. And then the scariest thing I ever saw happened before my eyes. Mrs. Denver slowly broke out into a smile - an unprecedented move. She straightened up and walked back to the front of the class.

“Very amusing, Mr Adams,” she chuckled, a sound that chilled me to the bone and could have been used to make even the scariest of monsters retreat in fear.

She didn’t speak to me for the rest of the day. Which was perfect, because I was busy thinking about my new language. 

When the bell rang, signifying the end of school, I took my time to pack up my things, until everyone, including Mrs. Denver, had left the room. 

I walked up to the blackboard, picked up the chalk and wrote:

Challenge accepted

—

Fueled by the low expectations of Mrs. Denver, I hunkered down in my bedroom and spent the next week—which happened to be midterm break— there, obsessively developing a new language.

What was once a neatly carpeted floor was now hills and valleys of notebook pages covered with my scribbly handwriting. On those pages were the rules and letters of what was to be known as ‘Ķelzek’.

My 11 years of experience with the English language were enough to know that it did not meet my needs. An understanding of a true, equitable language would not hinge on the knowledge of gerunds and other nitpicky rules and names. Kelzek would be a global language - no, a universal language - and as a result, Mrs. Denver’s little classes would become irrelevant.

‘Ķelzek’ (pronounced ‘kyel-zek’, and named after the Latvian stationery I was using to write the language), and the latinised form ‘Quelzeki’ took inspiration from many other languages from across the world, as I handpicked some of their most interesting elements.

My bedroom was a hive of frenzied activity as I wrote out letters, sounds and grammar rules, testing and discarding them as I went. It was on the fifth day that I reached my first roadblock: plurals.

It may sound easy enough to come up with how to pluralise words in a language. But as I scanned my spreadsheet and thought about other languages, nothing sparked my interest. I wanted Ķelzek to be a fun language to use, but meaningful too. I scrunched my forehead up with my fingers with my pencil in my other hand, struggling to find the strength to etch something out on the notebook page.

I was stuck.

Then I heard a gentle knock and my mummy poked her head around the door, which was covered in Kelzek notes.

“Are you ready for some dinner?” she asked.

I glanced at my watch. Was that really the time? I had been up working since 5:30am and realised that it was now dark outside. 

Seeing the look on my face, she followed up with, “Are you ok?”

“I’m stuck. I’ve hit a roadblock,” I said, and sat down on my bed. She came in and sat down beside me.

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

“It’s plurals. Who would have guessed?” My frustration was evident in my voice as I dramatically raised my hands into the air and then brought them down to my lap.

“I totally get why you feel frustrated and overwhelmed. It’s a lot of work to create a language.” My mummy gestured at the mounds of notes that covered the floor, and were stuck all over the walls. “Look how much work you’ve done already. Are you finding it interesting?”

“It’s really interesting. There’s just so much to think about, and I feel this time pressure—”

“Because of Mrs. Denver?” she interjected.

“Well. I want to prove Mrs. Denver wrong.”

“Of course.” She was silent for a moment. “But do you think there are other reasons why you’ve decided to create your own language?” I shrugged, and she continued. “You’ve always taken an interest in languages and creating them, ever since you were little.” I thought back to when I was very young, reading about how Tolkien created so many languages for his books. My mummy was right. “So, when you really think about it, and setting aside your grudge match with Mrs. Denver, why are you creating this language?”

“I guess…I want to make a language that can spread across the world and make people feel at home with something. A language that incorporates the best elements of other languages and is easy to learn. I want there to be a global language—no, I want to create a universal language.”

“Exactly. Now show me some of your notes.” She paused for a moment, and smiled. “I’d love to look through all of them, but maybe we should start with your notes that are relevant to plurals.”

I showed her some papers that had the letter Thorn, Eszett, grammar rules and some simple words. “I just need some more informaþä oña oþer laķůg—Sorry about that, just realised I don’t know how to pluralise ‘laķůg’: language.” I sighed, disappointed with myself. “I don’t know what letter to use for plurals.”

“Why not use some kind of mark, like an apostrophe?”

She picked up a notebook and softly took my pencil from my hand.

“What’s a word in–” She looked back and saw the name of the language on my door. “Kelzeki?”

“It’s pronounced ‘Kyelzekee’, but I’m happy that you tried.” She smiled at me warmly, and I continued. “Governallamo. It means government.”

“Governallamo…what if you use apostrophes?”

“How? What do you mean?” I asked her, my curiosity growing.

“How do you spell governallamo?” I smiled and took another pencil, writing down ‘governallamo’. 

“Thank you.”

She then drew a comma right after the ‘o’. “So what if you did this…” she added an ‘a’ and, after hesitating, a ‘w’. “What about this?”

‘Governallamo’aw’. I thought to myself. “There are no ‘w’s in my language, so how about…”

I touched the soft lead of the pencil to the thin paper that held the word ‘governallamo’aw’, and added an open triangle shape over the ‘w’. ‘Governallamo’aŵ’.

“Does that work?” she asked me, and I grinned back.

“It does! Thank you so much!” I then hugged her.

“You know, whenever you did things when you were a baby, I would say that. Aw. And then, when you started to speak English, you started to add ‘aw’ instead of a plural. I just wanted to…almost personify that feeling of joy forever when you say that in this language.” 

“I love that. It’s perfect,” I said. “Oh, and Mummy? Can you bring my food in here? I have a lot of work to do.”

“Of course.” She stood up and started towards the door, and then turned back to look at me. “And one more thing: will you, once you’re done with it, can you teach me how to speak… Ķelzek?”

I looked at her with a wide grin. “Gladly.” 

Moments later, as I looked over my notes, I dug into my spaghetti, or eßpaglleto’aŵ, just as I had named it in Ķelzek.

—

“Kevin, you’ve been writing for the past six hours, and it’s 11:30pm now. Don’t you think it’s time to go to bed?”

“Ķā! Þä vill ķāþa go þo eßlumbron! Þā nä iß vritig iñô Ķelzek!” No! I will not go to bed! And I’m writing in Quelzeki! I exclaimed back to my mummy, who had been studying and now understood Ķelzek. 

“Darling, I know you’re very passionate about this project, but you also need to rest. Your brain needs downtime to absorb everything.”

I knew she was right, and immediately hopped into bed and tightened the covers over me. 

“Thank you, Mummy”, I said in English as she gave me a kiss on the cheek.

“Þak čä, Kevin.” Thank you, Kevin. “Sleep well!”

I dreamt in Ķelzek.

—

By the end of the midterm break, I had finished my language in its entirety. All of its rules and many words were listed out in my notes, and I had achieved fluency. And on the Tuesday after the break, I had English class.

“Welcome, 6A, how are you all?” Mrs. Denver’s eyes lit up in terrifying fascination, watching me and my class take our seats and press our notebooks onto our desks, each one the same height and materials, made in just the exact same way such that they looked identical.

“‘Ello!” I waved at her, matching her same grin but not to the same effect that she had on me and my classmates. “Vllô þam llä?” How are you? I used the term ‘llä’, which is the formal term for ‘you’. I showed my distaste and lack of camaraderie with her in one sentence with a cutting tone that showed disinterest while still trying to heed societal norms.

“Hm?” Mrs. Denver looked up from her computer and then among us, wondering who had said that. “What was that?”

I raised my hand. “Nä’ād þä, Mrs. Denver.” It was me, Mrs. Denver. 

Like a wild beast hearing its prey snap a twig in the woods, her neck immediately snapped in my direction, her eyes as stern as her tone. “What are you speaking, gibberish?”

“Ķā, ķā, Mrs. Denver. Llä čallegād þä þo kreteßara a laķůg, þā þä kreteßara’ād þoß! Llä vantād þiß!” No, no, Mrs. Denver. You challenged me to create a language, and I created one! You wanted this! I smiled at her as the other students tilted their heads at both me and her.

“Speak English, Mr. Adams.”

“Ķā, Mrs. Denver. Þä rrefuß þo.” No, Mrs. Denver. I refuse to. I felt so happy in my seat at the centre of the classroom, being able to play the role that Mrs. Denver had countless times in the past.

She gave me a stern look. “Speak. English.”

“Ķā.”

“Then you’re on your way to detention.”

“Ķā, Mrs. Denver.”

“I’m going to assume that means ‘Yes, Mrs. Denver, I will happily go to detention and stay there.’” 

“Ķā.” No. I remained defiant, and I could tell that she knew it.

“You’re going to come with me.” She walked to the door and looked back. I shook my head. “Now, Mr. Adams. I will not ask again..”

“Ooooooooh.” The other students started chirping and chattering as they watched the proceedings. This only infuriated Mrs. Denver even more.

She grabbed me by the arm and proceeded to pull me all the way up to the detention room, right next to the Principal’s office. I tried to resist, but like a wild animal trapped by a poacher’s net, I was unable to wrestle free. 

I found myself in a room with other misunderstood students, who were intrigued by my new language.

—

“We must learn one language from this planet.”

“Easy, easy. True!”

“True. Easy. How many languages have they?”

“We detected over 7,000.”

“What?!”

“WE DETECT OV-”

“Meaning to express surprise, not clarify with repetition!”

“Sorry.”

“These sentients are crazy. Why more than one language?”

“How I know?”

“Meaning to ask without answer. I know you no know, you know nothing, mostly!”

“True.”

“Weird how there are so many; which one?”

“Not sure, Admiral! Our adaptable vocal oglophons will help us learn any language!”

“Find me best language! All-encompassing. One most universal language components. Like meal with all foods.”

“Yes, Admiral!...

…Admiral?”

“Yes? I’m hungry now.”

—

“Onto scientific news, astronomers have located a large, flying object, estimated to be at least 5 miles long, headed to Earth. Where is it from and what do they want? No one knows. Let’s see if we can get a few answers from Caltech professor, Dr. Larry Smith!” The camera panned over to a man with grey hair and a beard wearing a lab coat.

“Thank you, thank you. These images have been fascinating to look at, and the first thing we want to stress is that no one should panic…”

“What are your thoughts on…”

I got ready for school with the news channel on in the background. I’d stopped listening to it after a few minutes, and had just finished packing my backpack when one of the final questions caught my interest:

“...by our calculations, it will take no more than 72 hours for the object to reach Earth.”

“So, we don’t know what this unidentified object is, or can do?”

Dr. Smith shook his head. “No. We will get clearer images of it as it gets closer, but there is very little we can do to ascertain its purpose until it sends us a signal. That may not be until it penetrates our atmosphere.” Dr. Smith turned to speak directly to the camera. “And by then, it may be too late.”

The camera lingered for a moment on the professor’s almost crazed yet dead-serious eyes, and then cut to a commercial.

—

“You did well finding that language—it is all-encompassing. And we are already well-versed in it!”

“Gratitude, Admiral!”

“No worries, my…assistant. But we must now speak like these sentients speak, these ‘poplä’. Longer sentences, ever changing tenses, my assistant.”

“Yes Admiral! We are so close to their planet, Admiral!”

“Thank you for notifying me. Things should go very smoothly as a result of understanding their sacred yet universal language.”

“Admiral?”

“Yes?”

“These longer formulations of sentences are scaring me, Admiral.”

“You embarrass us both! Get back to work on the Antedetrus machine!”

“Yes, Admiral!”

—

Dr. Smith was right. After only 70 hours, a purple metal spaceship with long, glowing pink windows landed near my city. It was a bit too close for comfort.

But it was a UFO. That we could see in real life.

I went out to the living room and found my mum absorbed in reading something on her laptop. She gestured for me to come over.

“Based on the government reports, the aliens aren’t dangerous. And a few people on reddit have gotten close to the landing site to get a better look.” She looked at me and smiled. “I mean…it’s only 15 minutes away from here.”

“You read my mind!” I grinned. 

—-

We were nervous but excited on the short drive there. Aliens! UFOs! Was it all real? 

We soon realised that we were not the only ones who wanted to see them for ourselves. The spaceship was cordoned off with military guards, but the small crowd and news crew outnumbered them. We approached to get a closer look, and as the guard near the front started to tell us to turn around and go home, a loud trumpet-like sound erupted from the spaceship.

Everyone - even the guards - turned and stared..

The door of the purple spaceship started to come down, and purple smoke gushed out. The door turned into stairs, and we waited with bated breath. These aliens sure knew how to make an entrance.

The purple smoke was so thick that it completely obscured our view into the spaceship. The first thing we saw was two pairs of black boots descending from the stairs.

Then purple leggings.

Black, shiny armour of an obsidian-esque material and long, seven fingered gloves.

And then…

Spherical, see-through helmets just like astronaut helmets..

Their faces were like human faces, except they had three eyes and had blue skin and yellow markings across their face. Large necks, with bulging veins held up their oversized heads, which featured long chins with twin sharp, black tips. They were totally bald, which emphasised their large forehead, which housed their third eye.

The taller one had a tattoo just below their third eye that seemed to be a ritualistic marking. His head was shaped like a stone, so I decided to call him Rock and the other one Pebble.

“Ello, mollo’ashto poupla!” Rock said. “Nosh’aw komosh nao pesal.”

Hello, all people! We come in peace. That’s very civil of them, I thought.

“What are they saying?” I heard someone whisper behind me. I turned to my mum, who was looking back at me, wide-eyed.

Then I realised. I understood what they were saying because…

…they were speaking Ķelzek.

—

“Ello! Þā vellcom, vißtoreŵ!” Hello! And welcome, visitors! The words flowed with full fluency as I slipped between the shoulders and arms of onlookers to be in the line of sight of Rock and Pebble. They looked at me approvingly. “Vlli döād čä’aŵ goād her?” Why did you come here?

“Þo eżeplorrô.” They came in peace, and to explore. I wondered if that was their true agenda. I saw that, as they spoke, parts of their neck veins started vibrating; I assumed it was that they had some kind of adaptable vocal chords because it was unlikely that they could make the exact same sounds as us humans.

“Vllat iß čä’aŵ?” What are you(plural)? It was a simple question to see what they would say.

“Żekneßtia.” I quickly imagined a Latinised form to explain to the rest of the world. Xeknetia(Pronounced ‘Zek-nee-sha’). I quickly recognised my name for them as sounding like the Ancient Greek ‘Xenia’, which was a concept of hospitality. It seemed fitting for their peacekeeping mission and exploration. They asked if they could meet our leader. It was a little cliche, but I passed the message on to one of the military personnel.

Meanwhile, the onlookers were agog at our interaction, exchanging glances of confusion; the news reporters at the scene were widening their eyes, their eyebrows raising. The chatter increased and then went silent as a motorcade pulled up and the Secretary of State got out. They had sent the Secretary of State to be a high-ranking official of the U.S., but not too high as they didn’t know what the aliens were capable of. 

I was familiar with Leonard Blake, who had been a famed polyglot  in the military before becoming Secretary of State. He walked over and stood between me and the Xeknetia, his silver-streaked hair shining in the bright sunlight that contrasted with the shadows cast by the spaceship. “Excuse me young man, what exactly are you doing?”

Rock and Pebble seemed surprised by his tone.

“I’m communicating with them, sir.”

“You’re…What?” His eyes lit up, his interest piqued. “They speak a language…from Earth?” I nodded, and he started gabbling before he could find his words. “What language?”

“Its name is Ķelzek, or the Latinised ‘Quelzeki’.” I grinned. I knew what the next question was.

“Well, that’s a language I haven’t heard of before. How many humans speak it?” 

I widened my grin.

“One.”

“Wait, what do you mean? What place is it originally from, this…near-extinct language?”

“My brain. I created it. Very recently. Sir.” This made him look between me and Rock and Pebble, who were looking nonplussed. I quickly explained who he was to them, and made formal introductions.

Blake gaped at the exchange. He turned to look at me straight on. “You created— look, I know Tolkien created a language when he was 13, but you are - how old are you?”

“I’m 11, sir.”

“Ok, so you’re 11. And you’ve created a language. That’s great. How is it that these aliens speak it?”

“That’s a good question,” I said, and I posed it to Rock and Pebble. They spoke at length, and when they were done, I was dumbfounded for a moment. 

“They say that it is because it is a well-developed language, Mr. Blake. My language contains elements of most others, and they interpreted that to mean it was a universal language.” I could feel the tension, a string of conversational strain, last for a moment as it stretched until snapping point, and then—

“Oh-kay.” Smacking his lips, he widened his eyes and then closed them briefly. He was thinking. He sighed. “Okay. What’s your name?”

“Kevin.”

“Kevin. Can you help facilitate a dialogue between me, President Buttigieg and these aliens?”

“They’re Xeknetia. Singular noun is Xeknet.” I corrected him. “And yes, I will definitely help communicate with the Xeknetia.”

“And do you have a guide for your language? A dictionary and grammar book would be a good start.”

“Yes sir. I can provide you with those materials. 

He reached his hand out to shake mine. “We appreciate your help with this Kevin.”

I reached my palm to shake his hand and said: “I look forward to working with you, Mr. Blake.”

—

I didn’t really enjoy attention in school, not the kind I got from Mrs Denver anyway. But for some reason, I had fun when I made international headlines. People were impressed by my language, and the bridge this had built between us and the aliens. Passersby would stop me to shake my hand, or to ask for a selfie (I often said yes to the former; no to the latter), and the government hired bodyguards to follow me around as a measure to stop any possibility of them losing their greatest asset when it came to communicating with the Xeknetia.

On July 4th, 2048, we held a formal diplomatic summit with the Xeknetia.

I got out of the government car, flanked by my two bodyguards who stood rigidly, opaque sunglasses resting on their faces as well as wearing neat suits and ties. My family and I had gotten to know them quite well through all of the time they had spent with us. One of the bodyguards was tall, bald and muscular like a brute - Sernard Banders had an encyclopedic knowledge of American economic history and a great sense of humour. The other, Jeginald Reeves, was young and slim, yet agile. Slick black hair brushed back above his forehead, the colour the same as that of his suit. He was always recommending that I eat fish to improve my brain power.

Together, we started to walk up the short mountain road towards the peak - the spot that the Xeknetian representatives and I had arranged to meet at. “A summit at the summit!” I said to Banders and Reeves, and they both nodded, amused.

It looked like a regular road; that was, until you reached the peak.

The stone-hard faces of Banders and Reeves stayed that way, although the mountain didn’t.

At the end of the road was an enormous glass dome, filled with purple gas, with high double doors comprised of purple vines. I felt my eyes widen as I looked up and saw vibrations in the air—some kind of molecular barrier, I guessed.

In front of the double doors stood the President of the United States of America, Pete Buttigieg. He wore a slick navy suit, with a blue and white tie.

“Hey, Kevin! Nice seeing you.” We shook hands.

“Great to see you again, Mr. President.” I bowed for a moment before gesturing to the door. “I see that our Xeknetian friends have made some room for us.”

“You’re quite right. However, this is not going as planned; our best chemist went through the doors and noted that behind those doors is a large amount of some mutation of argon in the air.” He sighed. “And our Xeknetian friends in there gave us only one helmet that allows for us to breathe in there.

“Kevin, I’m going to have to ask you to go in there with the aliens by yourself. It might be dangerous, considering that we don’t truly know what they might have up their sleeves. If you want to have your bodyguards with you, which would be understandable, we can use 3D-copying to make helmets for your bodyguards. But it’ll take three days.”

I was unconcerned. There was no indication that the Xeknetians were hostile.

“It’s okay, President Buttigieg. I can go in alone. Just tell me what you want me to ask them or tell them, and I’ll do so.”

The President then looked at Secretary of State Leonard Blake, who had been covered by the shadows of the door and that of the President. The Secretary of State spoke:

“I think what you need to ask them is how they got here, how long it took them to get here, why they came here and when they’ll leave.” He stepped out of the shadows as he continued. “You also need to tell them that we’d like to do an exchange. We’ll give them what they want if they give us something of interest. We’re happy for them to make the first proposal.”

President Buttigieg nodded. “I also think that it would be best if you suggest recesses so that you can leave the space and communicate with us what you said and what they said to you in each session. Got it?”

“Got it.” I gave him a thumbs-up.

“Okay, then. Let’s get you set up with the helmet and oxygen tank.”

—

I pushed through the double doors, my breathing louder within the glass helmet that also, unlike astronaut helmets, had lots of space within the glass sphere for my neck. The door screamed open as the bases of each door squeaked against the terrain. Ahead, I saw another, smaller door, and I heard a ‘see you later!’ from President Buttigieg.

The doors slammed behind me as I walked towards the smaller door. I was surrounded by purple gas, but could see the clear, oxygen-filled, human-suitable air outside of the dome. I took a deep breath and checked my tank. 

When I reached the smaller door, it swung open automatically, and I walked inside.

—

I was greeted by a large room of organic, purple vines and a giant hexagonal table before me. The chair closest to me was empty, and five Xeknetia sat in the others. They invited me to sit, and I did so carefully, so as not to disturb my oxygen tank.

At the head of the table, immediately across from me, was Rock, and at his left was Pebble. But all the other Xeknetia were distinct in one way - their markings. From now on, I’m only going to include the English translations for the Ķelzek conversation as it’s quite lengthy.

“Hello, my friends. How are you all?” I said just as I had walked in.

Murmurs broke out among them, and Rock responded. “We are good, thank you, our friend. Please introduce yourself to everyone.”

“I am Kevin Adams.”

“And I am Admiral Xeko, experienced Admiral of the Xeknetian Federative Republic, and this is Dazk’zeer, my personal assistant.” He gestured to the alien I had nicknamed Pebble, and I made a mental note to call him Daz. “This is Amxet, who is a high-ranking lieutenant in our Confederacy.” He gestured to the Xeknet on his immediate right to name Amxet, a Xeknet that bore three scars that split his eyes apart from each other in what seemed to be a triangle shape that had been burned. “This is Qa’a’ad, Xeknetian Minister of Cosmic Transportation.” I noticed that Qa’a’ad (Qa, for short) wore a badge on his black armour that was made of some shining purple-and-gold material that bore an insignia that I didn’t recognise. “And finally, this is Klexos, Head Scientist of the Xeknetian Federative Republic.” He gestured to a Xeknet that, instead of wearing black armour, wore a black cape and coat.

“Well then, let us begin.” 

—

We were maybe half-an-hour into the first session of discussion when Xeko raised a seven-fingered hand and I abruptly stopped speaking.

“And I think that—” I said, but cut myself off.

“Thank you, Kevin Adams, but, under your terms, I believe it would be best if we take a break at this moment.”

“Understood, Admiral Xeko.” I was slightly shocked by that, especially when I was about to begin questioning what scientific advancements the Xeknetia have made and how they got here, but I understood that it would be rude to ask for slightly more time. I nodded.

The Xeknetians stood up in unison, and Admiral Xeko spoke: “Well, then. I shall see you again in a short while, Kevin Adams.” The door to the room then opened.

I bowed to them before leaving.

—

“So…what did they tell you?” Secretary of State Leonard Blake said, seeming a little agitated.

“They told me that they came here to explore, that they want to be able to maybe see if we can establish trade and coexist here.” It came out as a rush of words, and I took a moment to gather my thoughts. “They want to set a few terms, which they said they’ll relay to me at the end.”

The jaws of Blake and Buttigieg dropped in unison.

“Okay…” The President looked to the Secretary of State before continuing. “…how about you ask them about their science and their system of government. It’ll tell us a bit about their group personality and maybe bring us one step further to understanding what they want in return.”

He looked apprehensive, so I tried to cheer him up with a smile. “Got it.”

He nodded to me, and I went back into the negotiation chamber.

—

“Welcome back, Kevin Adams.” I was beginning to notice that they had only one name for any individual Xeknet, and they were surprised that I had two words in my name. 

“Now, let us begin where we left off.” Admiral Xeko announced, their cold voice echoing through the purple-vined room.

“Thank you, Admiral Xeko. I had a question for Klexos, actually.” I turned to Klexos, who tilted their head and folded their seven-fingered hands together. “How did you get here?”

Klexos pursed his human-like lips. “What your species would call electromagnetic reconnection.” I leaned forward with curiosity, and Klexos continued. “In all of our ships, we hold electromagnetic fields within powerful tanks that can still connect with other fields. What we then do is we allow them to almost entangle themselves with these other fields to snapping point, reconnecting them and launching our ships at the speed of light.

“But that is not all. We can travel at faster speeds than that of light, because we have technology that can amplify these reconnections - we call them Antedetrus mechanisms, which allow for us to travel at speeds so that we could reach this planet in a matter of days.”

I started to nod to Klexos, but stopped as I remembered Einstein’s theory of relativity. “Wait, but the closer you are to travelling the speed of light then the more your mass expands. How are you all still intact?”

“Good question, Kevin Adams. Instead of expanding our own mass, what we do is we concentrate it all on the ship we’re in so that the ship grows for a certain period of time, but we don’t. That is why we cannot have too many people on a single ship, as it would stretch the ship far too much until it explodes.”

I began to pull my notebook out of my suit, but stopped myself. “Wait, paper is not degraded by argon, is it?” Klexos shook his head.

“Okay.” I pulled out my notebook. “Now, would it be okay for you to repeat all that again?” Klexos looked at me and nodded, something he had seemed to learn from me and my expressions.

—

I showed President Pete Buttigieg and Secretary of State Leonard Blake my notes on Klexos’ explanation of the Antedetretus Process. President Buttigieg shook his head.

“I’m sorry, Leonard, but I think we need a theoretical physicist for this. I don’t think being the Secretary of, well, mainly terrestrial Transportation for a while is enough to understand the Antedetritus Process. Antedetretus…anti-detritus? It sounds like they might be against decay.” I nodded and smiled, glad that the President had made the same connection.

The Secretary of State looked puzzled. “Detritus is a word for decay,” I explained, and he let out an “ah” sound. 

—

It was supposed to be the last session. I had two questions, and I led with what the President considered to be the most important: “Do you plan on leaving?”

The Xeknetia shook their heads, a gesture I had taught them myself. However, when they shook their heads, their necks went full 360 degrees around. It sent a shiver down my spine every time. 

“Well then, what are your terms for coexisting with us humans?”

“Your languages. We can learn other languages easily, but we get confused. We cannot learn all 7,263 languages, and they are always evolving alongside other new languages that continue to be created, and we cannot evolve our understanding of them every moment. All languages must be united into a maximum of six that are spoken and divided across the world.” Xeko and the others swivelled their heads in disappointment with the human species. “And do not let any of these six languages that are narrowed down include nouns that are just ‘the idea’ of the verb they share a name with. Just tell them to make new words in their stead.”

“So, just a few languages for all?” I ventured, wanting to make sure I understood correctly.

“Yes. We like your language very much. We hope you can be a key advisor on what remains.”

I smiled.

It was time to wipe gerunds off the face of the Earth.

—

“They said that we have to just erase 7,000 languages from the Earth, and remove all gerunds?” Leonard Blake started pacing. “I am sorry, but how do we do that? Just pick and choose a few languages and make everyone learn them?”

“We have to do this, Leonard. Don’t you understand that they’ve already given us so much, and that they have such amazing technology that they could probably whip out a Death Star and blast Earth to smithereens at this rate.” The President sighed, and turned to me. “Tell them that we’ll do it, but that it’ll take maybe a decade to put this in place. But we aren’t removing languages, we’re just making it so that there are only a few languages that one would need to learn to be able to go absolutely anywhere in the world. I’m going to focus on presenting this all to the public and explaining what’s going on.

“Leonard, you’re going to need to begin to host meetings to explain it to other countries and their high-ranking officials.”

As I prepared myself to go into the chamber one last time, the President asked me, “Kevin. Are you sure they specified gerunds? I always felt they served–”

“Unfortunately, they were very specific about that, Mr President.”

“I see.” I couldn’t be sure, but there may have been a tear forming in his eye. “Carry on. We’ll see you when you come back.”

—

“Welcome back, Kevin Adams. I believe this is our final session, where you will represent the rest of your planet to tell us what is going to happen.”

It felt surreal to be 12 years old, dressed in a spacesuit, negotiating on behalf of planet Earth with aliens. 

“Thank you, Admiral Xeko. I thank all five of you for helping speak with me. However, there is something that we want from you. It’s going to be very difficult to phase all Earth languages out, so we would like something in return.”

Daz tilted his head. “What is it?”

“We want access to Xeknetian Cosmic Transportation, which we believe that you, Minister Qa’a’ad, can help us with.” Daz looked at the Minister, and Qad watched me with a keen eye, but Amxet cut in, his triangular scars showing on his forehead.

“We can’t let you have our cosmic transportation. That is one of the strengths of Xeknetian society, and we can’t let you take that from us.”

I sighed in disappointment, turning to Amxet, who bared his sharp and shiny teeth at me like a chimpanzee, primal eyes locked on my face. I realised that this could get dirty. “Then there is no deal,” I sighed.

“You would dare! I have been a major lieutenant for almost my entire 382 years in this universe, and you just say ‘no deal’? I am old and you should trust your elders, chil—” And a wall of purple vines blasted into the air, surrounding the lieutenant and blocking the people around from hearing him. Xeko had raised a hand and pressed a button on a remote.

“I apologise for my lieutenant. They are the oldest of this group along with being the most stubborn and least polite.”

“You need not worry, Kevin Adams. I, on behalf of the Xeknetian Federative Republic, will allow for humans to have some use of our cosmic transportation, if it will help us coexist with your kind.” Qa said, shifting their lips into a smile.

“Then we have a deal. Shall I explain how we will put this coexistence into place on Earth?”

Epilogue

From almost the moment of its creation, I was teaching Ķelzek - to my family, to the aliens, and then the world. Fifteen years on from the Universal Language Accord, as it came to be known, I began teaching it formally. Now it was I at the front of the classroom, HoloBoard behind me and a few rows of students ready to listen and take notes.

Once the Xeknetia began to fully coexist with humans, Kelzek became fundamental to peaceful existence and cooperation, and students of all ages came to my comprehensive Ķelzek classes to learn the language.

I checked my watch and was about to start the class when I heard a knock on the door. Another student, perhaps?

I walked over there, reaching out my hand to turn the knob, expecting a new student I hadn’t seen before, and—

I lingered at the door, the face of the woman I saw seeming familiar yet not easily recognizable. She had silver hair tied in a braid that was placed down over her shoulder, a wrinkled face with black tortoise shell glasses resting on her pale nose and framing her hazel eyes.

“Mrs. Denver?” She nodded humbly, and looked a little embarrassed. “I was wondering whether I’d see you again! I—please, come sit in for the class!” 

She seemed taken aback by my apparent joy, and I then spoke to the whole class. “This is Mrs. Denver, and she played a fundamental role in the creation of Ķelzek.” The class looked on in wonder, and I guided Mrs. Denver to an empty seat. 

—

“Come on! This language doesn’t make any sense!” I was teaching another class, and I was facing a young, uncooperative student. His name was Indy, and he could become agitated quite quickly.

“Well, what doesn’t make sense about it, Indy?” I looked at him, dark brown hair over his face as he watched me with a glare.

“Why do there have to be so many symbols and accents, why not a simpler language?” Mrs. Denver, a few seats to Indy’s right, looked at me and raised her eyebrows.

“So what do you propose?” I asked.

“I’m gonna create my own language, and anybody will be able to understand it!” he cried.

I smiled.

“Well then, kid. Next week’s midterm break; show me what you’ve got!”

Glossopoeia is a truly amazing thing.

THE END