"I'm not going to work anymore," she said. "I'm going to werk."
"Werk. With an 'e'."
"What does it mean?"
"Um... eating ice cream! Today, anyway. I might make it mean something else tomorrow."
That was how it started. Soon everyone was 'eeting brekfust' or 'whashing dishiz.' Words meant anything they wanted. When no one could understand anything anyone said anymore, we went back to her.
"Halp," we told her.
She showed us a ball of dirt. It meant, "I can't help you. You have to solve it for yourselves. I love you all."
But we couldn't understand her.
BOOK REVIEW: THE FLUX by Ferrett Steinmetz
2 days ago