Gónghuà

The World is Dead    Appendix      Gónghuà

Notes on my language and how it's used today.

Days 2-5

Correspondence

Days 2-5

My second day started with an argument and an epiphany.

I was resting, wearing borrowed clothes on a makeshift bed of piled-up blankets. The curtain over the doorway gave privacy but didn't block the sound of an upset visitor. What startled me awake was realizing I understood two key words: The title of a political leader, used to refer to Shùn Yì, and the title of a worker, which Shùn Yì used for them.

Two words was little, but it was a start. A bridge. And, once I was able to convey that to Shùn Yì, they agreed.

By afternoon, we had a new visitor, though this one was invited. Scholar Chén Xhé Zhì had as many wrinkles as strands of hair, which was entirely white and pulled into a secure bun. Despite their apparent age, their dark eyes sparkled with curiosity.

Xué Zhì is the village's main record keeper, the person who knows, records, and teaches the village's history. Including historical language. Chun-zhuang spoke Gónghuà the same as me, but separated by centuries. My version of the language was older than even the oldest dialects Xhé Zhì knew.

That idea that I could be several times the age of the elder before me made little sense and yet was the obvious conclusion. I asked more questions than was polite. Faced with someone who could more-or-less understand me, how could I hold back? Surely someone knew something about me, who I was or where I came from.

Not all my questions were comprehensible, even to Xhé Zhì. Every sentence was a language lesson. We tore the vocabulary apart and rearranged it. The grammar was mostly the same, but words had been simplified. Entire sounds had been dropped (ü apparently never shows its face anymore). Some terms aren't used anymore and ones new to me kept coming up.

It took days. I had to figure out the modern way to ask each question before Xhé Zhì would answer. I learned the village's name of Chun-zhuang, and that the closest city is Shanshui Zhèn. Neither name felt familiar, but then I'd been asleep in my tomb since before Chun-zhuang began recording history.

That doesn't make me pre-historic, however. Ruins of ancient civilizations dot the planet. Their technology was far more advanced than today's, but while some records remain, there's not enough to piece together their fall to modern society's rise. Chun-zhuang made the decision to use the titles and honorifics of this region's ancient predecessors, as a way to respect those who came before.

My questions had multiplied, but at least I'd developed more of a language with which to ask them. Feeling brave, or perhaps wanting attention off me, I asked Shùn Yì what that person had been so upset about, that morning.

"Our head carpenter was accusing me of keeping you to myself," they said. "There are those in the village who think you are a god."

Summary

• We all speak the same language, Gónghuà, but I speak an ancient dialect of it.
• I spent days learning how the language has changed so I can speak and understand its modern version.
• I'd been asleep in my tomb for longer than Chun-zhuang has been here.
• Chun-zhuang uses honorifics from long-gone civilizations. Ones I might be from.

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