TAELONS' LANGUAGE

The Alien Argot of the Avant-Garde

Talking with the Taelons
Christian Bök
Poster from “Earth: Final Conflict”
“Sinaüi ëuhur¨a.’’
Atlantis Productions commissioned me in 1997 to design a credible language to be
spoken by the extraterrestrials on the new, sci-fi TV show, Earth: Final Conflict
(the latest series of programs imagined by Gene Roddenberry). The Hollywood
producers wanted me to create an ethereal language that would be spoken by a race
of “electroplasmic superorganisms”—aliens who embodied an inhuman science of
enlightened tranquility. I was bemused by the fact that years of both academic
experience (as a doctorate) and artistic experience (as a soundpoet) had now
finally made me uniquely qualified to be a linguistic consultant in the world of
science-fiction, creating a successor to Klingon.

Earth: Final Conflict presumes that, in the near future, Earth has been visited by
the Taelons, a race of celestial Buddhists, who alleviate our social misery,
although their motives for saving our planet seem esoteric, if not inimical, and
thus a distrustful billionaire, Jonathan Doors, forms a rebel group of humans who
vow to resist the seductive despotism of these benign aliens. Shot in Toronto (a
futuristic metropolis by any American standard), the show has enjoyed modest
success in the States, where TV Guide has mentioned my involvement, describing me
as “the noted linguist, Christian Bök” (even though this linguistic reputation has
only been earned by virtue of my being “noted” in TV Guide).

Klingon represents the most successful invented language in history, since more
people now speak the alien argot than speak Esperanto. Darren Wershler-Henry in his
book Nicholodeon has even gone so far as to translate a poem by bp Nichol into
Klingon, producing a lautgedichte as nonsensical as any Dada poem by Hugo Ball.
Wershler-Henry reports that he has had to make some allowances for poetic usage:
“Since Klingon contains no equivalent for the word ‘car,’ [...] this text reads
‘primitive shuttlecraft.’” Klingon is, however, nothing more than a simple cipher
for English with a reverse grammar and a Germanic emphasis. Since fans of Star Trek
are unlikely to learn another language so similar to one already learned, I have
tried to imagine a truly alien argot with no earthly cognate.

The Taelons speak a whispery language that often seems nonsensical when translated
into English, largely because the alien argot lacks many of our own grammatical
constraints: for example, there are no nominative nouns, no transitive verbs, etc.—
moreover, every word is ambiguous and polysemic, with subtle nuances of meaning
that often seem contradictory. The language abounds in poetic notions that are
concocted and dissolved in a moment, according to aesthetic necessity. The aliens
do not even believe that they use their language; instead, they say that the
language uses them. It is, for them, an entity with a life of its own. It is not a
tool used to express ideas; instead, they see it as an ideal virus that uses their
own minds as a means for replicating itself through the act of communication.

The Taelons subscribe to a Philosophie des Als Ob, in which reality is more exigent
than existent: there is never only one possible state of the “as is”; there are
only many potential states of the “as if.” The Taelons have no cognate for the word
“reality,” except a gerund that roughly translates as “thinking” or “dreaming.” The
language does not describe a universe that exists beyond the character of language
itself: there are no things that endure (no “states”); there are only traits in
action (only “events”)—no existing, only becoming. The aliens have no concept of
representation. For them, things do not “imitate” each other; instead, they
“connect” with each other. The painting of a rose does not depict a flower;
instead, the aliens say that the painting strives to become a flower.
The alien argot is defined in part by the following qualities: Predicates are not
composed of nouns and verbs; instead, every sentence is reducible to a word that
synthesizes noun and verb into a kind of “adjectival infinitive” (not unlike a
gerund in English: for example, thinking, dreaming, etc.). Such a “nounverb” is a
trait in action, referring simultaneously to a quality and its conduct. The
language has no notion of a complete sentence: there are only intransitives
modified by various affixes that inflect some quality, according to a logic that at
first seems more associative than designative.

Predicates do not index a temporal relation. Sentences, for example, have no tense,
except the present tense. There is thus no way to express an action that takes
place in a yesterday or a tomorrow. Instead, the aliens express the passage of time
in terms that evoke a state of mind, like a mood: the future tense is expectant
(the present act of hoping for an event to happen); the past tense is nostalgic
(the present act of pining for an event to return). Time, for the aliens, is
defined not through a “sequence” of causalities, but through “rhizomes” of
coincidence.

Predicates do not index a contrary relation. There are no antonyms that designate
an opposition between one concept and its other extreme: no words for non-, anti-,
etc., only inflections of an idiom that translates (inadequately) as “and/or” or
“eitherboth.” Taelons make no distinction, for example, between subject and object,
between cause and effect, etc., since they use only one word to designate both
terms at the same time. There are few anthropic analogues for this principle of
synthesis, except maybe for the Tao of Buddhism or the Advaita of Hinduism.

Predicates do not imply a singular relation. Whereas English presumes by default

that a noun is singular, unless modified by a plural suffix, the alien argot
presumes by default that a “nounverb” is multiple, unless modified by an affix that
denotes a singular, the “one among many.” The Taelons consider the plurality of
cases before they consider the specialty of one case: the word for an event is thus
always plural (unless modified) since the aliens regard each event in terms of all
its cases: e.g., the “table” as it has become, as it might become, etc….

Premises such as these can provide the basis for an alien idiom with its own
grammar and lexicon: for example, the sentence “We come in peace” can be translated
into the phrase sinaüi ëuhur¨a (pronounced: “shee-nha-wheeee, yhoo-hurrr-rha,” with
the letter R trilled, and the vowels aspirated at the back of the throat). The
expression translates very literally into the phrase “arriving as if fierce and/or
serene.” The aliens draw no distinction between antonyms; hence, their idiom for
“making peace” is the same as their idiom for “making war.” In both cases, the two
possible meanings are always presumed to be implied in the statement itself, as if
to suggest the multiplicitous possibilities of every initiated encounter.

Working on a dictionary plus a grammar text for the show, I edited all Taelon
speech in English and translated dialogue into the alien argot, creating other
neologisms whenever necessary (such as the “skril,” a symbiotic laser; and the
“synod,” an alien judiciary, etc.); moreover, I wrote riddles and prayers in the
language, plus an alien fable, entitled las¨amali (pronounced: “lah-shammah-lee”).
Based upon the story by Aesop about the race between the turtle and the rabbit
(except that the two characters, las¨a and mali, can be functionally interchanged
in order to convey more than one moral point), the fable refers to the act of
“transcending oneself through struggle”—an act that fuses riskiness and discipline:
las¨amali. The two characters satirize a pair of pets owned by my friend Natalee
Caple.

Earth: Final Conflict aspires to be an intelligent contribution to the genre of

science-fiction (although the show does liberally mix its merits with its faults—
much like the premiere episodes of Star Trek). Poets wishing to learn more about
the alien argot are encouraged to consult the web site at www.taelons.com, where
they might find a more extensive monograph about the language, plus an exhaustive
vocabulary, including examples of Taelon speech. Like the poet Jackson Mac Low (who
has performed vocals for the aliens in the movie Men In Black), the avant-garde has
had to make a modest living in the oddest venues—almost as if poetry itself has
become so heteroclite in the modern milieu that it is now nothing more than an
alien idiom that has no real home except in the world of science-fiction.

las¨amali:

omr¨uvala
las¨a qiloüi mali
viloüi z¨ava
las¨a viloüi
s¨oloüa
mali viloüi
s¨oloüa

las¨a
ëeve ne-üevama
mali
ëeve ne-üevama

las¨a ëulumi
tolova
teüe tolova
mali meneli las¨a
mali tolova

üe-üevama
teüe tolova
A Taelon Fable

once upon, what if...

nimbly, daring, gently
by comparing
nimbly, faring
as if fast
gently, faring
as if slow

nimbly
early, free of caring
gently
later, full of caring

nimbly, languishing
as though finishing
without finishing
gently, vanquishing, nimbly
thus gently, finishing

moral: to cherish
thereby to finish

=========================
Eunoia léxicon

Linguistic Assumptions

Eunoia is defined in part by the following characteristics:

Predicates are not clauses composed of nominative nouns and transitive verbs;
instead, predicates are reducible to words that synthesize noun and verb into a
kind of "adjectival infinitive," (not unlike a gerund in English: for example,
thinking, dreaming, etc.) Such a "nounverb" is a trait in action, referring
simultaneously (without discrimination) to a quality and its conduct. The language
has no notion of a complete sentence: there are only intransitives modified by
various affixes that inflect some quality of description, according to a logic
that, at first seems more associative than designative.

Predicates do not index a temporal relation. Verbs, for example, have no tense,
except the present tense. There is thus no way to express an action that takes
place in a yesterday or a tomorrow; instead, the Companions express the passage of
time in terms that evoke a state of mind, like a mood: the future tense is
expectant (the present act of hoping for an event to happen); the past tense is
nostalgic (the present act of pining for an event to return). Time, for the
Companions, is defined not through a "sequence" of causalities, but through
"rhizomes" of coincidence.

Predicates do not index a contrary relation. There are no antonyms that designate
an opposition between one concept and its other extreme: no words for non-, anti-,
etc. -- only inflections of an idiom that translates (inadequately) as and/or, or
"eitherboth." Taelons make no distinction, for example, between subject and object,
between cause and effect, etc., since they use only one word to designate both
terms at the same time. There are few anthropic analogues for this principle of
synthesis, except maybe for the Tao of Buddhism or the Advaita of Hinduism.

Predicates do not imply a singular relation. Whereas English presumes by default

that a noun is singular, unless modified by a pluralizing suffix, Eunoia presumes
by default that a "nounverb" is multiple, unless modified by an affix that denotes
a singular, the "one among many." Taelons consider the multiplicity of cases before
they consider the particularity of one case: the word for an object is thus always
plural (unless modified) since the Companions regard each object in terms of all
its specific potential: for example, the "table" as it has been, as it will be,
etc.

Predicates do not index a dialogic relation. There are no pronouns that designate
the relative position of a speaker to the act of speech itself: no I, you, we, etc.
-- no distinction between us and them -- only an impersonal it (as in "it is
thought that ..." or "it is evident that ..." -- passive clauses that emphasize the
absence of the subject). There is no anthropic analogue to this linguistic
condition, except perhaps for choral speech, which permits every speaker to be an
orator and an auditor simultaneously in a collective experience of musical synergy.

Eunoia is difficult to translate, because its statements often support two

opposite, but legitimate, interpretations (much like portmanteau words or
paronomasic words). Such linguistic ambiguity provides yet another convenient way
to justify the uncertainty that humans might sense about the motives and intents of
the Companions; moreover, a translated statement (expressed as a caption, etc.)
does not necessarily have to convey all the interpretive complexities of the
original language so long as viewers are made aware that each translation
represents a set of bowdlerized misprisions -- open to a variety of possible
meanings.
Eunoia is a phonetic language, in which one phoneme is represented by one graphemic
character. Such "written letters" might almost appear sculptural in form: they are
not arranged in a sequence (as symbols are in English, for example); instead,
letters are juxtaposed and overlapped in order to form an ideogram that is in turn
juxtaposed and overlapped with other ideograms in order to form a convoluted
palimpsest that might evoke the dimensional complexities of a microcircuit.

While Taelons might find cognates for some of their own thinking in the archaic
writing of Eastern mystics, chances are that the Companions regard the literature
of Buddhism and Hinduism as an antiquated style of "aesthetics." Rather than risk
portraying the Taelons as New Age metaphysicians (with all the mystical banality
that such a reduction might imply), I suggest that the Companions are more
conceptually sophisticated. They are likely to respond with cultural interest to
the kind of aesthetic seen, for example, in a book like Finnegans Wake, the
readymades of Marcel Duchamp, the noisemusic of John Cage, or even the nonsensical
experiences of the L=A=N=G=U=A=G=E poets.

Preliminary Pronunciation

Eunoia has an alphabet of 23 phonemes, only a few of which do not have a cognate
vocable in any of the anthropic languages: a, [c], e, ë, h, i, l, m, n, o, q, [q],
[r], s, [s], t, th, u, ü, v, x, z, [z].

Eunoia has seven vocalic phonemes, with two moods of pronunciation: serene and
fierce (emotive concepts expressed by the same word in Eunoia). The three vowels a,
i, and o are aspirated as an extended sigh at the back of the pharynx, almost as if
the vowel is preceded by the sound of a whispered, but resonate, h (like the feline
hiss of a cobra); when serene, the vowel is sighed more softly at the back of the
throat; when fierce, the vowel is hissed more darkly at the back of the throat. The
vowel e is never aspirated -- nor is the vowel u, which is pronounced at the front
of the mouth and is inflected with the merest hint of a whistle. The vowels [e] and
[u] resemble the kind of English vocalic usually reserved for the consonants y and
w:

a -- a soft "aw"-sound, as in shah (exhaled at the back of the pharynx)

e -- a hard "ay"-sound, as in prey
[e] -- a soft "y"-sound, as in yawn
i -- a hard "ee"-sound, as in kiwi (exhaled at the back of the pharynx)
o -- a hard "oh"-sound, as in solo
u -- a hard "oo"-sound, as in tune (whispered with slight whistle)
[u] -- a soft "wh"-sound, as in wish

Eunoia has seventeen consonant phonemes, with the same two moods of pronunciation,
serene and fierce. While the vowels have a prolonged utterance, most consonants are
spoken lightly with a flutey rhythm that has a clipped cadence. The only consonant
that has no cognate in anthropic language is the sound [r], a trilled arpeggio that
resembles bestial purring, the sound often pronounced with a luxuriance that
borders on sensuality. The language is intended to evoke the kind of melodiousness
seen, for example, in Swahili or even the dialects of Hawaii.

[c] -- a "ch"-sound, as in chintz

h -- an "h"-sound, as in hollow
l -- an "l"-sound, as in little
m -- an "m"-sound, as in mammal
n -- an "n"-sound, as in nuance
q -- a "kh"-sound, as in khakis
[q] -- a "kw"-sound, as in quasar
[r] -- an arpeggiated trill (purred if serene, growled if fierce)
s -- an "s"-sound, as in senses
[s] -- a "sh"-sound, as in shadow
t -- a "t"-sound, as in teeter
th -- a "th"-sound, as in theory
v -- a "v"-sound, as in vortex
x -- a "ks"-sound, as in excess (never found at the start of word)
z -- a "z"-sound, as in zebras
[z] -- a soft "j"-sound, as in French jamais

Eunoia, for example, translates the expression We come in peace into the following
choral phrase: [s]inaüi [e]uhu[r]a -- a phrase is in fact ambiguous in its
connotations since it quite literally means "arriving as if serene and/or fierce."
The signification of this idea can be inflected by the mood of its pronunciation:
if spoken serenely, the phrase might suggest a greeting (We come in peace); if
spoken fiercely, the phrase might suggest a warning (We come in furor). In both
cases, the two possible meanings are always presumed to be implied in the statement
itself.

Valuv[e]la

(An Abstract Sonata)

a va
avi vala
avali valima
avalima

u [z]u
u[z]i [z]ava
u[z]avi [z]uvata
u[z]uvata

i üi
iüa[s]imi iüa[s]a

a la
ali lama
alami lamiva
alamiva

u vu
uvi vata
uvita vuta[z]a
uvuta[z]a

i [s]i
i[s]ami[u]i i[s]ama

a ma
ami mava
amavi mavila
amavila

u tu
uti ta[z]a
uta[z]i tu[z]ava
utu[z]ava

i mi
imaüi[s]i imaüa

[REPEAT]

---------------------------------------------------------
i = long "i" as in "kiwi"
[s] = soft "sh" as in "hush"
u = long "oo" as in "lute"
ü = soft "w" as in "wind"
[z] = soft "j" as in "jeux"