The weather is exactly how it was predicted. Jake was walking to Balbo Park and he noticed three small clouds in the sky, just big enough to take turns providing shade. The wind wasn’t blowing. It wasn’t too hot but just warm enough so the sweater Jake always wore regardless of the temperature, started making him uncomfortable. He was on his was to a spot of tourism so he could voice his opinion, inspire anyone who walked by to take an interest in the environment. He regularly brought a collect of books with him and a folded up sign he would from time to time hold over his head, saying ‘The End of Destruction must be Now’. Outside the museum of man, he considered himself a person interested in the real history of humans and involved with the discussion of the future of humans.
Two days ago competition for attention started showing up at the same place and at the same times that he did. It was a young child who brought a chair and a sign with an easel. The sign was in a different language. There was a cemented path that lead to the stairs of the museum of man. Jake always put himself on the side closer to the iconic fountain of the park. The little girl sat herself on the opposite side of the path. Her hair was black in two long braids that parted her hair down the middle. She would sit herself in the chair, her feet did not touch the ground. All day long she never said a word. Jake grabbed people attention but they would immediately notice her, sitting quietly. She was no more than a four of Jake’s twenty-five years of age.
No one walking by ever read her sign, or pretended to understand it. Jake did not recognize the script. After two days Jake ventured to ask what the sign said. She had since then given no attention to Jake. She looked at him as he asked his question and then smiled. He put down his sign and walked across the path.
“What does your sign say?” He asked. She smiled and pointed to the sign. She stood from her chair and walked up to him and put out her hand. He shook her hand and she introduced herself in a language Jake had never heard.
Tourists started stopping more and more often, trying to engage her in conversation. She just kept smiling. Sometimes speaking in words no one understood. A week went by before a well dressed older man showed up and did his best to engage her in conversation. She spoke in length but the man understood nothing. Jake stopped people, engaged them in very brief conversation before the little girl became too much of a distraction for his attempts. He thought of moving, but was drawn into the events, and now the strange man showing up attempting everything he could to understand her.
The well dressed man, showed up the next day with four new people, all who looked professional. They formed a circle around the girl. They started recording her words. Writing them down and sending one person outside the circle to make phone calls, repeating words into the phone, then rejoining the circle and repeating the search. No one appeared to know the first thing about her language. Jake was asked when she first showed up at the park. “More than a week ago,” he tried to hold the linguists attention for a desire to remain involved, but the linguist left, went back to the circle.
They started writing a significant amount of her words down. Trying to understand what she meant. Jake watched the linguists puzzle themselves, “There is no reference point to start from anything she is saying.” They would take breaks fifteen feet away and discuss the phenomenon. “Do we know one word of her language? Can we figure out what one word means?”
What they couldn’t understand was that she was there, speaking about the same things Jake was. She was explaining the future and the real history of humans. She didn’t bring books. She brought questions. No one could understand it but a direct translation of her sign was “Meaningful Questions”. She had the intention of sitting in her chosen spot and thinking about the most important question possible.
It was months of hysteria at Balboa Park. Linguists from all over the word ventured to come try to understand. Jake was often unable to get close enough to his grass roots protest spot, but kept coming. He was convinced the news coverage the little girl was receiving would also be good for him. He was now in the picture even if marginal. The girl would at times pose for pictures, run and stand next to Jake. In all media he was left out of explanation, not even explained under the photo caption, but he was in newspapers. Months passed, attention faded, and they were left with a minimal amount of linguists.
Jake realized that to this day, months later, the girl had not attempted to speak any English. He asked why. She understood he asked a question and responded as if she were answering. He understood and there was silence. Neither of them understood the question or the answer.
