I think the thing that I miss most about the Center though, is being able to watch these kids as they leave the ship with the smug look of satisfaction on their face, with the knowledge that, yeah, we just pretty much saved the universe, no big deal.
Some of them come away feeling as though they are experts in their respective jobs, and they often look down upon those that would dare challenge their pure genius. "I've just done that job," they feel, "therefore, my hair is a bird, and your argument is invalid".
"Because my hair is a bird, and I've just done this job for the entirety of the mission, I am far more superior than you. Please do not attempt to tell me what I could have done better, because I could not have. I'm an expert. A prodigy. A hero. I saved us. I am that is. Thank you."
Though many feel this way towards their peers. It isn't often that one feels that way towards us as staff. But, while many do not. One child did.
There is a sign that hangs to the side of the hallway leading to the exit in the Voyager simulator at work. It says exit, and then underneath, there is some Klingon writing.
(Yes, this is a closeup of the actual sign)
The child had been the communications officer. At communications they are required to decode certain messages from various forms. We use "alien" symbols, such as Klingon, to represent english letters, and then we print them up, and they decode the symbols back into English, and can then read the message.
The child saw the sign, looked at the Klingon, looked at Adam (who had been on the bridge with them), and said, "That doesn't say exit," and stared at it.
Adam looked at the sign, which nobody had really payed attention to, and then looked back at the child, "So, what does it say?"
"I don't remember all the symbols," he said matter-of-factly, "I just know that no part of that says exit."
Thirty minutes later, Adam tells this story to me, and we both decide we have to decode the sign. We spent about 10 minutes trying to figure out what it said. At first, we thought the top three decoded into HUG. The bottom line decoded to LOJMIT. We knew what hug was. We didn't know what lojmit was. So who better to call than our boss. I called him.
"What does lojmit mean? The exit signs translate to hug lojmit," I explained, "I'd like to hug him, but, I don't know who he is."
"I don't have any idea," Vic responded, rather annoyed. In his defense, who cares about some dumb sign. Only us at the Space Center.
Adam then thought about it for a second, and said, "What if it doesn't say hug," by this point, we were typing lojmit into google trying to figure out what it meant, or where it was from.
He was right. It actually translated to HUQ LOJMIT, and after we did some online Klingon word searching, the phrase HUQ LOJMIT translates into "Open Accessway/Departureway".
Adam was furious- "IT DOES TOO TRANSLATE TO EXIT!!! I HAVE TO TELL THAT KID!!"
And Adam is kind of right, though, we teach them that everything decodes into English. What a stupid idea, everything decoding into English- nobody even likes that language ;)
So that is what I did right after work yesterday. Translated Klingon into... Klingon. I did, for the record, also get shots up, and lift, so what a successful day.
TENDER MERCIES
1) I was able to fly 4 flights yesterday, that's always a rough go. My voice starts to die by flight 3 if I am not "conditioned" to do it. I am not, but I made it through, and did a pretty good job.
2) I was able to get out of work and lift yesterday, which is sometimes very hard to do. Plus I was able to bike into work, so everything worked out rather nicely.
3) I got to spend some great time with my sister and my dad, and it was a lot of fun. Hopefully we get to do it again soon.
I'll stop droning, and start getting ready to head into work for the day. But, I do want to end on the greatest of pictures, so, without further ado, prepare to giggle:
Bracken
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