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With a language as diverse and complicated as English, it should come as no surprise that words are frequently misinterpreted,
often with hilarious results. I once heard a man saying that his cancer had been in revision, but that he'd had a prolapse.
That must have been uncomfortable for him.
Rumour has it that a linguist used his computer to translate the phrase, "Out of sight, out of mind" into Russian.
Another computer translated the resultant phrase back into English, with less than spectacular results, returning as, "Invisible
idiot." Even correct interpretations can have drastic results. A French endearment is, "mon petit chou,"
meaning, "my little cabbage" which appears to be fine, even desirable, if your name is Fifi or Monique, but if somebody
were to call me a cabbage, I'd throw a large one at his head.
However, slang terms offer the most fertile ground for misinterpretations to occur, so they should only be used where
they are certain to be understood properly. If you told somebody to get his ass over here, it would hardly be productive
if he dragged a protesting donkey across the room.
All this is a preamble to a short Star Trek Next Generation story I wrote some years ago. It is written from the point
of view of Commander Geordi La Forge, the Chief Engineer, and concerns the linguistic skills, or lack, of the android Data,
who was invented by a Dr Noonian Soong, around twenty years earlier. It is entitled:
CDR GEORDI LA FORGE'S PERSONAL LOG, STARDATE 48656.6
Since beaming to the Farragut after the unfortunate crash of the USS Enterprise, and not having been assigned to any duties,
I have had time on my hands, and have been giving attention to Data's newly implanted emotion chip. After hearing of his
tears of joy on finding his cat Spot unharmed in the wreckage of the ship, I felt an experiment or two would be in order.
One of these experiments is one that I hope will never come to the attention of Captain Picard, as I feel it would compromise
his sense of humour, his tolerance, and his high opinion of his Chief Engineer.
While in the Farragut's Wardroom, I suggested to Data that now his emotion chip appeared to be functioning quite well,
he could relax and screw his ass off. Data looked a little puzzled for a moment, and replied, "But Geordi, surely you
are aware that my derriere is not removable? In any case, I do not see the connection between relaxation and the removal
of a fundamental portion of my anatomical structure."
At this point Commander Riker leaned over my left shoulder and remarked, "Ignore him Data. He's only pulling your
leg."
Data somewhat predictably replied, "I hardly think so Sir, as both Commander La Forge's hands are in plain sight,"
and my comment was forgotten in the ensuing poker game.
However, a couple of days later, Data appeared at my cabin door with a computer chip in his hand.
"Geordi," he said. "The other day you talked about relaxation, perhaps forgetting that I have never been
programmed for this activity. I have researched various relaxation techniques, and have ascertained that relaxation basically
involves the carrying out of no duties, the absence of physical labour, the pursuit of non-work related activities such as
hobbies, the lack..."
"Whoa Data!" I interrupted him, as dinner was only three hours away. "Get to the point."
"The point is, Geordi, that in none of the research I have investigated in the past two days is there a mention that
dismantling my er... ass will aid my personal relaxation. I have concluded that this is because Dr Noonian Soong's work has
not been released to the general purview.
"I have therefore studied my creator's work in greater depth than before, and have designed a blueprint for you,
so that you may proceed with the removal of my derriere. I would make one request however, before you attempt this procedure.
I should like you to replace it with some other foundation upon which I may sit, as I do need to present a lap for Spot to
occupy whilst I am relaxing."
I studied his computer chip, and his idea does appear to be feasible, but I am left with one question.
Is Date sincere, or has his emotion chip worked out even better than we thought, and am I the victim of an elaborate practical
joke?
I guess I'll never know.
La Forge out.
© Sandy Parkinson 1999 and 2007. Word count 740
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