“<English is stupid,>” Panu said in Portuguese. Portuguese was also stupid, it sounded like a hiccuping frog in his throat, so maybe he would try Arabic instead. “<English is most stupid language ever.>”

Slovenian. “<English is like drunk woman on boat ferry who acts like there are waves but there are not.>”

Thai. “<English is like taking all that is beautiful in world and putting in blender and now everything is Brown Sludge.>”

Chinese. “<English is almost as stupid as Lori Faust.>”

English was stupid in Estonian and Greek and Vietnamese and Azerbaijani. Also in Cebuano, and he did not even know where or what Cebuano was and he did not care but even Cebuano knew English was stupid.

Noel had challenged him to go Whole Day, Twenty-Four Hours, without using his translator.

This would be easy if English was not stupid. Also there was nothing wrong with his accent, he was talk better than most of these people, ‘gonna’ and ‘ain’t’ and what-even-was a Boston accent it was stupid that he was surrounded by English speakers and they could not understand him and he could not understand them because English was stupid.

The litany of languages continued. The meaning stayed the same.

The young Finnish boy was walking in Central Park with hands-shoved-in-pocket and headphones on and shoes-scuffing-path.

It was half hour until Bus Home Away From Awful Americans. This was also stupid.

One more lap to go, Alva spurred herself on. The sun beating down on her reminded her that summer was at the door. The sweat dripping from her forehead screamed for her to stop and rest, but Alva was determined. One more lap to go.

That’s when she heard it. “<English is stupid.>” Alva could tell by the underlying tones to his words, the young boy she was about to pass was speaking Portuguese. Catching up to him, he spoke again, this time in Arabic, “<English is most stupid language ever.>”

Slightly ahead of him now, the platinum blonde boy switched to Slovenian. “<English is like drunk woman on boat ferry who acts like there are waves but there are not.>”

Alva slowed to catch her breath and assess the situation. Who on earth is this boy? she thought. Trying not to arouse suspicion, she allowed the young boy to pass her as she listened to his use of language. Thai. Chinese. Estonian. Greek. Vietnamese. Even a couple more languages that Alva only recognized the tones of thanks to her friends: Google Translate, YouTube and curiosity.

This boy clearly did not like English, but how many languages did he know?

Casually walking alongside him, Alva decided to test his knowledge speaking in Icelandic, “<I bet I could speak more languages than you, but then again,>” She continued to walk past him and with a grin on her face switched to Welsh, “<It’s all English to me.>”

Alva continued down the path at a light jog, allowing for the young linguist to catch up if her multilingualism piqued his curiosity enough.

There was a stupid woman walking next to him, like she couldn’t go pant somewhere else. First she was jog by him, then she was fall back, now she was right next to him doing awkward walk just-out-of-reach like they were friends. Panu was searching for a language good enough to express how stupid she was when she opened her mouth and Icelandic came out.

He did not even realize it was Icelandic until suddenly it was not, and Google translate stopped liking her words and started offering new suggestions. He had to hurry and replay audio file, then splice and replay again, until he found where Icelandic ended and Welsh began. This did not take very long but now she was ahead of him and now he had translation of her words which said one thing but her jogging said eat-my-dust.

She was blonde and tall. Maybe a little Russian. Russians should have learned long ago not to stomp dirt on Finnish pride.

The even-more-blonde-than-woman boy took two seconds to shove spare batteries and phone from his hoodie pouch into jeans pockets where they would not rattle around and fall out. Then he held phone camera in his hand where it would not make him as motion sick as leaving it around his neck, and he jogged after.

Swahili was first challenge to upstart woman. “<I bet you are one hundred percent lying.>”

Spanish was like insult, so easy that even American elementary students could learn it. “<Maybe is just ignorance talking.>”

Sudanese rounded out the set. “<You are not run from defeat.>”

It was only after he had given voice to Finnish Defiance that he realized all languages were start with S. He had been so surprised, he had stayed in same letter of the alphabet so that he could translate more quickly.

Noticing that the stranger was now jogging after her, Alva considered his interest piqued. Still running after her, the boy began to show off using his skills in Swahili, Spanish and – was that Sudanese? she wondered.

Regardless of what language he was actually speaking, Alva felt and heard the challenge from this short little man. He was calling her a liar for her linguistic prowess! Alva! As if. She couldn’t nor would she want to back down from a challenge like this, no matter how young the combatant might be. This was her fieldhouse. This is where she could shine.

So instead of running away from defeat, as the boy suggested, Alva stopped jogging and turned around to face her competitor. Game time. To begin, she pulled from her Russian, “<You only wish I were lying.>”

Then to Scottish Gaelic, “<In fact, I can speak a countless number of languages fluently.>”

To wrap it up, Alva decided to throw the boy for a loop and go Klingon on him, “<Can you say the same?>”

At this point, the tall woman stared down the boy, creating quite the height difference for passersby. She would not back down from the challenge, even though the back of her mind reminded her that this stranger was only a boy, but… Alva was curious how many languages this boy could speak.

She had to know.

She had never met anyone who could keep up with her before. Even if some of his translations were a little rough, he was doing far better than anyone else she had met before, especially for someone so young.

She turned to face him like Real Man. (Also she stopped jogging, which was good, once-a-week jogging was enough.) Next she spoke in Russian, he knew she looked Russian, but after that was Gaelic with even stronger accent than usual, and then Klingon.

The nine-year-old stood up to his full height. With tip-toes added in, he was full 139-point-7 centimeters. He tilted his head up and tried to make it look like he was glare at her, and he slid his headphones down off his ears and onto his neck. She was Worthy Opponent.

Klingon was met with Klingon. “<You are impeach my honor.>”

Upped ante to Vulcan. “<Your victory is Boolean false, persistence is illogical.>”

Finishing move: Tolkien Elvish. “<Possibly is all fantasy in your head.>”

Beat. That.

If he was grin, it was because he was clear winner, not because this was fun.

This boy continued to puzzle Alva. How is he matching her? Removing the headphones from his ears and placing them around his neck, he matched her stare. Then countered her move into the fantasy languages with Klingon, Vulcan, and Elvish.

So he's versed in fantasy as well, Alva noted. The boy grinned up at her, acting like he just won the battle. They were just getting started though.

She decided to test his knowledge in the fictional languages further. In High Valyrian, "<You're a fool if you believe you've won.>"

Switching to Na'vi, "<It doesn't matter what language you throw at me, I will be able to–>" Suddenly the phone strapped to Alva's arm began to ring, disrupting the battle temporarily.

Removing the phone from its secure case, she glanced at the caller. An international number. This meant only one thing: work. Of course work would interrupt this, Alva bitterly thought. Turning to the boy, she said in Dothraki, "<This doesn't mean you've won.>"

Accepting the phone call, Alva took a couple steps away from her language competitor, put on a smile, and answered in English, "Hello?"

The voice over the phone responded in Finnish, "<Hello, Miss Zimmer? This is Anne Mäkelä's secretary, Marja Lane. I'm calling to finalize the schedule and translating needs for the her visit next week.>"

An expert in her field, Anne Mäkelä was visiting New York City for talks regarding climate change in the Arctic region. Switching to match the secretary's Finnish, Alva said, "<Yes. Hello, Miss Lane. I would be happy to finalize the schedule with you. However, I'm out of the office at the moment. Can I call you back in a few hours?>"

"<Of course. We will speak then.>" The two said goodbye, and Alva placed the the phone back in the case hugging her arm. She returned her attention to the blue-eyed boy and challenged him this time in Zulu, "<Now where were we?>"

Google did not understand the next thing she spoke, but the internet did, it was Game of Dead Characters. Finding translator was easy, but he knew even as he tried to spell the words she had said that he was getting some things wrong, and how was she doing this--

Next language was not from same show, next did not have easy-to-find translator, it was from movie with not-as-fanatical-fan-base and so he had to search her words one at a time and if he wanted to speak back in same he would need to search words one at a time so how was she doing this--

Then back to Show Were Imp Was Best Character, easier to translate but still not easy. How was she--

Then Finnish.

Perfect Finnish.

Slight Helsinki accent, like dew on a flower.

The boy's brain stopped.

(Zulu practically translated itself, it was easy compared to others she had done, but he did not care at all right now, it was cloud over sun and he only wanted for sun to come back.)

“<You can speak Finnish,>” the young boy said. And for the very first time, his words had no accent and no errors, no mispronunciations like a puppy tripping over its own feet. For the first time, they were speaking like civilized people. “<You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met.>”

There were so many more things he wanted to say, so very many metaphors and allusions to angels and stars and bright flames of light in this hideous Manhattan darkness of accents and worse accents, this place that was too hot in spring and too bright in winter.

So very many that they got all jumbled up in his throat and stuck there.

The Finnish boy could not say anything else, anything at all.

The stranger’s tone dramatically shifted. “<You can speak Finnish.>” The challenge in voice from earlier had evaporated. Now, it wasn’t so much a challenge in voice anymore as he responded, but as if he was in awe of Alva – like he had just seen the sun for the first time after hiding in a cave for years.

He spoke again in Finnish, “<You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met.>” Alva stared at him, processing his statement and beginning to feel slightly uncomfortable as he continued to stare at her, but she wasn’t sure how to react to the boy.

She noticed that his words weren’t rough anymore. The grammatical errors she perceived as he spoke the other languages were nonexistent. Maybe this is his first language, she wondered. He looked a bit tongue-tied still, and Alva grew concerned that she permanently broke the boy.

“<Thank you?>” Alva finally responded in Finnish. “<And yes, I can speak Finnish. As I said before, I can speak any language, including Finnish.>” She did warn him earlier that she could speak anything, but the language war between the two seemed at a halt... at least for now, so it was the opportune time to ask, “<So this must be your native tongue, but how on earth can you keep up with all those other languages?>"

The woman continued speaking, just as an angel might continue playing its harp, or as a light might continue to draw in a moth. Panu knew that he looked like a stupid child right now. The fact that his gaze was always unfocused probably was not helping. He made sure that at least his mouth was closed, so he was not a slack-jawed idiot. He didn't know what was wrong with him—he'd spoken to Noel in Finnish only a few days ago, he did every week.

But this was different.

Noel's Finnish was almost perfect. She'd gotten it straight from his own head, after all. But when she spoke, it was with the same tones that he used, the same mutt accent that was not really of any one place, the same hesitation over words he'd never heard spoken before but which existed in his downloaded dictionary. It was not Noel's fault that she had learned to speak Finnish from an eight-year-old who had spent most of his life talking to the same small group of people.

This was different. This was not his own Finnish shown back to him like a carnival mirror; this was perfect and beautiful Finnish, spoken by a cultured adult.

Probably Panu would never sound as good as her, not even when he was grown up. Not if he only had Noel to practice with.

(Sorry sorry sorry, his brain said to Noel, but it was true, speaking with her was literally practicing with himself, he had not realized until this angel spoke.)

The blonde boy his eyes to the ground so he wouldn't keep looking at her like a dumb cow, and fussed with the headphones around his neck, and forgot how to turn up the volume on his voice because now he was much quieter.

She spoke better Finnish than he did. This was the Ultimate Defeat.

“<I'm sorry, I can only speak them because I'm cheating. I was just googling. Finnish and Swedish are the only languages I really speak.>” A mouse's small smile grew on his lips. “<Well, one more as well.>”

At which point Panu asked, in fluent binary, “<Are you cheating too?>”

What language is this? Alva could understand his words perfectly, but the tones to it were... different. It wasn't one she had heard before - and between the internet, TV and film, Alva had heard a lot of different languages.

Focusing on the foreign tones, Alva responded to him, "<Depends what you define as cheating,>" The language was easy enough to pick up on, even if she did not know what language was coming out of her mouth. "<What language is this even?>" If she hadn't heard this one before, what other languages had she not heard?

Note to self, Alva thought, Research and listen to new languages. What am I missing?

She had her answer about the boy though... partially. He was a googler, but Alva wasn't quite sure exactly how he translated so fast. Perhaps... he's like me, Alva wondered at the thought. It's worth a shot.

Knowing now he also spoke Swedish, Alva switched languages again, "<You know, you're the fastest googler I've ever met if that's how you're cheating. Mutant?>" She carefully eyed him. Could she be right? Could she have just met someone else in the mutant club?

This. This was the look on Panu's face as the paragon of Finnish Beauty spoke a graceful stream of 0's and 1's back at him, as unruffled by the transition as she'd been by any other language.

This was the look on Panu's face, which he couldn't see for himself, but he was pretty sure made him look like he was five and also had just been hit on the head by something falling from the sky.

“<You are definitely cheating,>” he said, switching back to Finnish, because if he had a choice between Finnish and not-Finnish, that was like a choice between getting a shot at the doctor's or not getting a shot at the doctor's, it was not a real choice at all. “<That was binary. No one speaks binary, it's—it's not a spoken language, you're cheating like a MMORPG hacker with a god code, that's how badly you're cheating.>”

He said this with the utmost respect, as was due to a woman using a god code in RL. Do not mess with hackers unless you have admin privileges; this was basic. It was obvious she was a mutant. It had always been obvious, if he'd stopped to think instead of running after her like a boy after a candy truck. And she had to know that he was a mutant too, her asking was just politeness.

“<I'm a technopath. Google is in my head,>” the boy said, regaining some of his self-confident puff from earlier. “<What's your power?>”

She was probably one of those super-powerful psychics that stored everything from everyone that they'd ever come across, and he had already fallen deep into her evil trap. If this was true, then there was no reason to not appreciate how cool she was.

She spoke Finnish. And binary. ...Could she speak Finnish in binary?

"<Test test test,>" the blonde boy said, in a very mature use of his own powers.

Binary. So that was binary. Apparently I can speak binary. Alva noted to herself, Will have to test limits of computers languages later... First, must find someone to speak them. Alva grew deep in thought at the possibilities of what other languages she might be able to understand. This was a side of language she never thought to explore. She already knew she couldn't read binary, but she never thought to try to speak it.

"You shouldn't say no one can speak binary. You clearly do,>" Alva matched him again in Finnish. "<And I wouldn't call it cheating. I'd call it using my natural-born gift.>"

The boy explained he was a technopath. Made sense. He was a walking Google... or Yahoo... or Bing... or Ask Jeeves—was that still around? "<Oh I'm just an omnilinguist. Speak to me in any language, and I can understand and speak with you... Just don't ask me to read anything.>"

The boy tried testing her in another language. Alva couldn't quite place what it was. It had similar undertones to the binary from earlier as well as Finnish, but it was not quite the same as either language. She compared it to how the tones of Egyptian Arabic were similar to the tones of Sudanese Arabic, but there was a definite distinction between the two; or how Cajun French tones were similar yet distinct to those of standard French.

Alva focused on the tones of what the boy just said and responded, "<Was I not clear on what I can do?>" Her eyebrows raised at him. "<Why do you feel the need to test me in whatever language this is now?!>"

“<Because it's fun,>” the little Finn said, his challenging grin back. “<And because I haven't lost yet. If you say you can speak anything, then I only need to find a way to break your code, and then I win.>”

Earlier she had said—what was it? He replayed the file just to be sure. It's all English to me.

This was a tragedy. She did not actually hear Finnish, and how beautiful it was. She only heard stupid mindless mutt English.

This was an exploit. Because if it was English she heard, not the language, then maybe there were cracks that a young coder could slip through. He was very good at breaking things, it was a specialty of anyone who worked with computers.

Panu straightened himself up very tall again, and his grin got even wider. “<Let me tell you a Finnish story. It's a Christmas story. You see, my father is a salmon snake, so he doesn't understand much about how my powers work. I said to him, 'Father, father, please, ask the Christmas goat to bring me a knowledge machine.' But he said, 'Son, I am too open in the ass from all my lottery cubing. There will be no Christmas this year, not at all, not with goats or without.' ”

How was that? Lottery cubes were dice, of course, and knowledge machines were computers—those two weren't even hard. But had she heard the literal translations, or when he said salmon snake had she heard dragon, and Santa Claus instead of Christmas goat, and 'broke' instead of 'open in the ass'?

(Finnish was a magnificent and graceful language, the best in all the world, so Finns were allowed to have their fun in making words.)

These were all mere word play. How would she handle words that English, in its stupidity, simply did not have?

“I sat on the couch and thought about this, and not even hyppytyynytyydytys* could distract my mind. I wanted my new knowledge machine. And I thought to myself, 'My spirit is not lieko*, I am Finnish, I have sisu*. I won't just sit here and feel myötähäpeä* because of my salmon snake, he can kalsarikännit if he wants, but I will go talk to the Christmas goat myself!'”

If that was not enough, then how about sentences that could mean many things?

“So I found the Christmas goat, and I told him all about the thing I wanted.”

" 'I could get it for you,' The Christmas goat said, 'but it would be in kuusi palaa. And I have bad news for you: kuusi palaa. In fact, kuusi palaa, so you're just out of luck.'

" 'I think you're being stupid,' I told the Christmas goat. 'Look over there, I can see them already--kuusi palaa. Kuusi palaa.”

" 'Well,' he said, 'that may be so, but kuusi palaa.'”

" I thought this was still a game so I told him, 'Kuusi palaa.'

“ 'No really, kuusi palaa, and kuusi palaa, and I don't even know how you will get a fire trunk there!”

And that is how we burned down the forest of the Christmas goat and also the moon, and I had to go back home to my salmon snake and help him find his pants. But the good news is, NASA has just announced that kuusi palaa. The end.”

...Was it sad that this story, in retrospect, did not seem completely far-fetched? His salmon snake was an Adult, but maybe not a Responsible Adult.

---

lieko = a tree trunk that has been submerged in the bottom of a lake

hyppytyynytyydytys = bouncy cushion satisfaction <3

sisu = roughly “the Finnish spirit,” see here for more

myötähäpeä = a shared sense of shame

kalsarikännit = drinking alone in your house in only your underwear**

Kuusi palaa – In order of use:
Six pieces
Six of them are on fire.
The number six is on fire.
The number six is returning.
Six of them are returning.
The spruce is on fire.
The spruce is returning.
Your moon is on fire.
Your moon is returning.

---

**Finnish is Most Beautiful Language Ever shutup

Alva laughed. She laughed and kept on laughing. She hadn't laughed this hard in a very long time. She doubled over because she couldn't stop as her sides began to hurt from the amount of laughter. This boy... he was still trying to win. He was exploiting the loopholes in her mutation, giving this long-winded story of utter nonsense.

Salmon snake? His father being "too open in the ass"? And whatever COO-zee PA-lah meant?

Language didn't, or couldn't, always translate well. Alva picked up on a few of over the years working as a translator. Like dépaysement in French (the feeling that comes from not being in one's country), or schadenfreude in German (the feeling of pleasure derived by seeing another's misfortune). Unfortunately, she wasn't familiar with the uniqueness of Finnish as much, so she had not heard the ones the blonde boy used in his outlandish story.

Whenever this happened, Alva thought it was always intriguing to hear the actual language spoken, rather than what she perceived it as. Today, on the contrary, she just found funny. Here was a boy who was using these untranslatable or mistranslated words on purpose.

She finally stopped laughing, and took some much needed deep breaths. "<I apologize for that,>" she said to the boy in Finnish. "<You are a cheeky little boy, aren't you?>" Alva had to admit, he told a clever story.

"<I can at least speak each language like a native... even if not every word translates properly,>" she admitted. "<I'm Alva by the way.>" The blonde woman extended her hand to the boy. They had been fighting language for so long that day, the least she could do was introduce herself.

The woman started laughing.

The woman continued laughing.

Her laughter began to attract even more notice than the modem sounds they had been making earlier.

Panu began googling symptoms of hysteria and whether breaking someone's mutation could cause it and whether this was all his fault for poking at her power too much, she was laughing so long.

“<I'm not cheeky,>” the blonde said, and adjusted his headphones around his neck, maybe a little cheekily. “<I'm victorious.>”

He accepted her hand, and shook with his best formality—down up twice and firm-but-not-squishing grip and as close to eye contact as a blind boy could get. “<I am Panu Harmaajärvi-Jaager. Do you really hear everything in English? This is a national tragedy for all Finns everywhere, and also for you.>”