Another hot day in Tatooine. It must be morning already, I can feel the heat on my tentacles and beak coming from the lovely sand.
Surprised that I can speak food language? Yes, it carries great amusement value for me too. For years (hundreds of years, if the food is to be believed, although I am not too interested in what exactly this arbitrary measure of time the little foodbugs use is – measures like “day” and “morning” have a much more practical use) I thought the little squeaky noises the food made as I captured it were all gibberish. At best, some form of mate calling or warning sound for others of the same species, perhaps. But in time I came to understand that some of the food actually exchanged complex sound patterns. I learned this was a “language,” and the food used it to exchange ideas.
I was amused when I first thought of this hypothesis. Why, talking food, surely that would denote some form of rudimentary intelligence! I spent countless nights chuckling at the prospect. But it was, in fact, correct. What a surprise!
It took many many cycles to learn this amusing language. I delight in how convoluted it is, and yet so hasty. In the early days I had a hard time wrapping my head around the idea (see what I mean? See how quickly I can give form to an idea and how the language twists around itself endlessly in such a short span?) that the language was built in such a strange, contradictory way.
It seems to me it was created by food that was in a hurry to exchange ideas, yet did not have the neuronal capacity for delivering them in an ordered fashion. Or perhaps it was too enamoured of the concept itself and merely exercised its amusement in creating new and stranger ways to convey the concepts.
I cannot blame it, though. I myself have become fond of its quaint rudimentary structure. Whenever I can, I try to think in this language, and I always find myself surprised at how far and how quick I can take my thoughts in strange new ways.
Food taught me many things about themselves when I was learning their language. There are, of course, many types of them, and in time I have learned they actually have different languages. Imagine that! This is called Galactic Basic, I believe, and it was the one I most commonly encountered. My favourite, though, is that of the tart-flavoured food. Twi’leki is its name. It always come with a high pitched squeaky voice, the vibrations of which fill me with delight. I always eat the tart-food slowly, to savour every bite and to give the food time to tell me more about itself.
It is a curious thing. When food is left out in the sun for long (wrapped in a tentacle, of course – much as I like conversation, I do not want to sacrifice a meal for it), it starts talking loudly. To itself, to me, to the sand, to the rocks… It doesn’t matter. Some have told me they are “losing it” due to the heat, but they never mention what “it” may be. I keep putting food out in the sun regularly, in hopes of learning what it is they lose when they stay out for long.
The best way to learn the language, though, is to quickly put the food down in the beak and tear a few pieces out. It usually talks very loudly and it is easier for me to feel the vibrations and understand the sounds that way. The vocabulary tends to be very limited when doing this, however, and the food doesn’t speak for long. But it is the best way when the wind is strong and the sand is loud on the surface. It takes a very quiet day to really understand the language of food that is speaking softly on the sand outside.
Hm, I am feeling some strong vibrations approaching. It must be one of those sacrifices coming. I like them, they offer me food and always talk about me with great respect. It always amuses me when it is revealed that my digestion of a food can last one thousand years. It is a number that fills the food with dread, most of them have a lifespan of just fifty or one hundred years at best. And yet they had time to invent languages. Oh how amusing it all is!
But I better not chuckle now, I hear the loud voice announcing there will be… Ah, there is only one sacrifice today. A tasty snack. I wonder what it will speak about with me.