Awakening.

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Amelia grinned as Acha held up her notebook. 'Yeah, thats my notebook. That particular notebook I write down poetry and stories. So yes. That is writing, and its in english. The noises that I make when I'm talking aloud. Ill have to read you some poetry soon.' Amelia said. 'Humans have many different languages. I typically speak english, but I can speak a little german.'
 
Acha tilted her head a little to the side. Many languages? Why is that necessary? Do they differ in purpose? She supposed, however, that that would be a good idea; humans had so little privacy with their words they uttered aloud that it might be useful to make up a set of code that only one's friends would understand.
She glanced with a newfound appreciation at the notebook. I didn't know you wrote poetry. And stories, too. I would love to hear some. As her kind didn't use words to speak, to her poetry was a rhythm and pattern of thoughts; she felt she might gain a new understanding of Amy by hearing this.
 
Amy blushed. 'It's not very good poetry, so don't expect too much of it.' Amelia warned. 'And the different languages are necessary because not everyone lives neat each other. Human towns are much different from your own. This earth is very large. All the land started as one big landmass, then broke up into the seven continents humans inhabit today. We have to travel by sea and air to get to some places.' Amelia explained.
 
Acha looked at Amy, a little puzzled. So you just... have several languages by accident. Then she nodded. I think it's only strange to me because we wouldn't encounter that problem, no matter how far we live. Perhaps with writing, but I don't remember an occasion when a visitor couldn't read something we wrote, or the other way around. You see, our writing had symbols for... how do I put this? Thought elements. Of course it couldn't be exactly precise, but it was the best we could do without the directness of talking. Some of us worked on a way to contain thoughts instead, but we didn't get too far before... well, you know. She shook her head, as if trying to clear the sad thought.
 
Amelia nodded. 'That all sounds facinating. I wrote down some of the figures on your chamber before you came out of it. You will have to tell me what they mean someday.' Amy said smiling. 'Humans don't communicate by thought, so we need the different languages. One advantage of making sound is the singing. I can make music with my voice. My voice can hypnotize people, or calm them down. It can excite them or anger them. And its not just my voice, its my word choice as well.'
 
Acha pondered this for a while. Speaking then must be an art in itself. I think there is something admirable in that. She was a bit sorry that she couldn't learn to speak Amy's language; maybe she could learn to understand it, over much time, but she thought that would be difficult as well. It was so different in concept. But maybe that too was a part of what Amy was, one of the differences between them.
Please read a poem to me. And with voice as well. I would like to try to understand the feel of the language.
 
Amelia took the notebook. 'Alright. Let me find a good one...' Amy said, flipping through the pages. 'Here.' Amelia cleared her throat. She found that speaking felt odd to her now, and she had to prep for it.
"The smell of dust after rain, the feeling of delight;
Think, don't speak, the key is always right.
Pond of red, lay your head, down on your pillow;
When you wake, don't you fret, I'll be under the tree of Willow.
Rivers run through the forest, oceans run through the skies;
Every song has its end, everything has its time, and everything dies.
But then it comes back to haunt you, that face with those blue eyes;
And takes the rose away from you, ten years after its prime.
The moral of this story, though sad;
Is to always remember the times that you had." Amelia finished the poem and shut the notebook.
 
Acha listened intently; it was strange, between singing and speaking, the words seemed to have a deliberate rhythm. And it was also very sad. She didn't know if she understood speech any better now, she couldn't quite connect the sounds one by one to the concepts one by one, but there was something in the cadence of the lines themselves that she could. And she wanted to console Amy somehow, even though the sadness she felt through the poem was one that she thought was beyond consolation, like a wound that closed long ago but still aches on wet days. And while she felt unqualified to make a guess to its meaning, she also felt she had to hazard it, had to know if she understood it right - understood her right.
That was about the man you loved... wasn't it?
 
Amelia blushed. 'Is it that obvious?' Amelia asked. 'Well, I mean, its not totally about him, but it is, mostly.' Amelia said. 'It's also about my family.' Amy sighed. 'My mother's surname was pond. She was a redhead. She died only a few years after I was born, myself being the eldest of my father's children. He was then remarried and had my brothers and sisters. As you can guess, I was estranged.' Amy said, looking down at her notebook, than back up at Acha. 'The man I once loved... He had bright blue eyes that changed from ocean blue to sky blue, sometimes a mixture of both. His name was William Rose. Most called him Willow. He was very tall and lanky, like a willow tree.' Amelia explained.
 
Acha nodded. I see. So you use words to mean different things at once. It's a riddle. You are clever. The concept was new, but it was also fascinating; she couldn't have done that. But... I'm sorry. You must have had a lot of sadness in your life. She felt guilty, somehow; that it had occurred to her, even if for only a short time, that it would be better to die was now unforgivable. She could not hurt Amy so when she had already been hurt many times.
It was half to steer the discussion away from what might be painful to talk about for Amy that she asked her next question, though it was one that she had been meaning to ask about regardless.
What kind of a name is a surname? Does that have something to do with how you have three different names?
 
'Don't be sorry. I'm a grown woman who can handle herself. Plus, it wasn't your fault.' Amelia put the note book to the side. Amy smiled. 'Humans typically have two to three names. A first name, mine is Amelia, a middle name, which I don't have, and a surname. Mine is Taylor. My third name is my nickname. It is a name that people can refer to me as instead of Amelia. Most generally call me Amy. But a person can have many nicknames. Many middle names as well. The last name is used to distinguish families. The first name is an identity, but I'm not the only person with the name Amelia on this earth. The middle name... I don't think that has much of a purpose.' Amy explained.
 
Oh, I see. At least a little bit. Truth be told, Acha didn't think she would ever understand much more than a little bit, but she didn't think she could help that. It's because names are also a part of the language, aren't they? Sounds that you can say. To me, names are just... the thought of a person. I suppose you would add a sound to it, then. But to me it's only the thought of me. I don't think I can recognise the sound of your name. Or of mine, if you have a sound for it. In fact it seemed a frightfully difficult concept to try to look for meaning in spoken words; when Stanford had been here and when he spoke, she found the sound too dirstracting, too frightening, and she didn't even want to try. That, however, reminded her of something else she didn't do.
I wanted to cook before you arrived, so it wouldn't get cold, but I didn't have time. I'm sorry.
 
Amelia paused for a moment. How would she say Acha's name? It was easy to think it.. 'Oh, don't worry about that. You've helped a lot. I am really grateful! Its nice, having someone around. Especially an intelligent someone. Here, we can cook together, and I'll show you some more things.' Amelia said, making her way to the kitchen. 'By the way, the sound of my name is very similar to the thought of it.' Amy explained. "Amelia." She said out loud. 'That is how other humans can address me. It feels weird to speak out loud...' Amy mused
 
Acha smiled a confused little smile as she followed Amy to the kitchen. That's just it. That's similar to the thought of it to you, but not to me, and I couldn't have imagined it. I can't imagine a sound similar to the thought of my person, but you might have made one up automatically, when I introduced myself. You think in words and sounds to some extent, don't you? But I'll get used to that eventually. Maybe I will recognise some words too if I hear them many times.
She didn't say it, but it almost frightened her that Amy found it strange to speak alound now. Did she get used to her company this fast? Wouldn't that alienate her from her species? But she had to admit that she was also very used to Amy's company, and could hardly imagine to part with her. Didn't even want to imagine to, in fact. She had lost too much already. She never wanted to lose Amy.
 
'It makes sense. To me, my name has never been a thought. Its always been a sound. I've only had one name that had a thoughtful meaning behind it, and that is long behind me.' Amelia said, prepping some broccoli to roast. 'Can you grab the blue glass bottle from the fridge for me, please?' Amy asked, presetting the oven. 'Does your name have a special meaning? Or is it just you. Another thing, how is your name chosen? Do you choose it, or do your parents?' Amy asked. 'For humans, our parents pick our name. My mother picked out mine. There was a TV show she loved, and one of the characters name was Amelia.'
 
Acha fetched the bottle and passed it to Amy. She wasn't sure she understood the question, but she tried to answer to the best of her abilities. It doesn't mean anything but me. So nobody had to choose it... it's just me. When I think "that's me", or when somebody else thinks of me. When they talk about me, those who know me recognize the thought. It's like I don't choose what way to think about a new object I learn about; when I know enough about it, I can think of it. But then you would have to make up sounds for all the people and objects you encounter, is that so? She shook her head a little, slightly discouraged. She was glad she didn't work that way; she would have to make up thousands of sounds now, one for each new thing she experienced... But you say you used to have a name with a meaning. May I ask about it, or is that a secret that should remain in the past?
 
Amy laughed. 'Oh, it was just a stupid thing. I was called Kitty Terror for a while. I did forensics with a police department for a while. They called me Kitty Terror because I was like a cat; silent, stealthy, and smart. I could catch any criminal, even if the evidence left behind was nonexistant. I was a terror to all criminals in the area.' Amelia said, taking the bottle and opening it. It was full of olive oil, and she drizzled it over the broccoli. 'I never really understood it, but it caught on quickly. A little child made me a picture of myself in a Kitty Terror suit. It was the cutest thing. All the sciency girls started dressing up as Kitty Terror for halloween. It was hysterical.' Amelia laughed again at the memory.
 
Acha couldn't help but smile a little, as she pinched one broccoli before Amy could start to roast it. She wasn't sure what a cat was (or a police department or Hallowe'en, for that matter), but got some of it from the context and liked the way Amy described it. Why, that was actually quite a respectable name then.
Why did you stop working there if it went so well? Wait, let me guess. You were too interested in everything to stay with one area for too long, weren't you? Whether that was the reason or not, she could see that in Amy, a fascination with everything unknown. She felt a small stab in her heart as it occurred to her that Amy might only like her because she still has much to learn about her. If she ever becomes an open book to her, will she leave her? She didn't dare ask.
 
Amy shook her head. 'No. I had to leave because I got promoted. I couldn't turn it down. I stayed at the promotion job for a year, then quit. But by then I had started more schooling, and soon became a well known scientist. I have a knack for seeing things others don't. A very old scientist came to me with a problem once. He had been working on it for years. I took five minutes to solve it. It was just one tiny little variable that he had overlooked. Most people wouldn't have even considered the variable.' Amelia said, putting the broccoli in to roast. She shut the oven and set the timer. 'I am facinated by the unknown, but nothing is ever known. You can think you know a person, but there is always something about them that you don't know. So I'm really facinated by everything. The world is a wealth of knowledge just waiting to be found.'
 
It was strange to Acha, how Amy answered the question she didn't even ask. Maybe you know me better than you give yourself credit for, she answered, at once embarrassed and relieved. She didn't want to keep secrets just to retain her mystery... She wanted Amy to know her, she was just afraid that once she did she would consider the experiment over. Maybe, being used to communicating by thoughts and thus getting to know everyone easily, it was she who didn't know Amy well enough? But I agree. There is always something new to learn about the world. And like you, I want to learn.
Yet in some ways they weren't alike. Amy was adventurous and confident, or at least that was how the timid Acha saw her; and Amy worked well alone. Acha had lost her strength along with her people. But maybe Amy wouldn't mind letting her regain a little of it here.
 
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