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interculturalchaos · 5 months

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Verbal Messages in Mexico

The official language of Mexico is Spanish, with around 93.8% of the Mexican population speaking only Spanish and around 5% also speaking an indigenous language (Statista). The most used indigenous languages are Nahuatl and Maya which are endangered because of the marginalization of indigenous groups.

Lingua franca refers to any language that is widely used to communicate among speakers of other languages (Dictionary). Using English as a lingua franca in Mexico will allow you to communicate effectively but only in certain areas. Overall, not a lot of Mexicans speak English with only 12% understanding it and 4% being fluent (How Widely Spoken). For those who are only visiting tourist areas, speaking only English is not likely to cause any communication issues as this is where most English-speaking Mexicans are located. For those who journey outside of tourist or widely populated areas, speaking Spanish to some degree is likely to go a long way as the locals might not understand you. Traveling with an interpreter is also an option to ensure that few misunderstandings take place.

I know quite a few common Spanish phrases. I think a wide range of Americans have been exposed to some commonly used Spanish terms whether it be from movies, media, or hearing people around you speak the language. I am also learning Spanish on a popular language-learning app and find it more efficient than the 3 years I studied it in high school. Knowing these words and several others before you go to Mexico is very important because if an emergency should arise, you would be able to communicate to the majority of the population what you need. Another major reason is to show respect. If you are visiting Mexico and are able to introduce yourself in Spanish I am sure it will come off polite or at least humorous if your pronunciation is off. If someone comes up to you speaking Spanish, being able to say you don’t understand them in their language is a quick way of ensuring they know you don’t speak the language. They might switch over to English and communicate using whatever vocabulary they know. Just knowing a few phrases and words used by the country you are visiting is essential is ensuring your safety and demonstrating cultural competence.

As technology advances so do the methods in which we interpret different languages. I tested Google Translate as a method with a short story written in Spanish called El pájaro y la ballena (The Bird and The Whale). The translation of this story was impressive. The only error I noticed was with gender pronouns as they referred to the whale with both she/he. It might be an easy children’s story, and a very beautiful one, still I was surprised that it translated so well because when I would use Google Translate during my Spanish course it would have a completely different answer from what was written in our books. Many translation technologies have their errors, but I think they serve a meaningful purpose in building a bridge across cultures.

I loved learning about how language influences our view of reality. As someone who has recently realized they know very little about other cultures, this idea adds on another layer to understanding another worldview. A quote from the textbook that stood out to me was that “worlds in which different societies live are distinct worlds, not merely the same world with different labels attached” (Samovar, 2017). When I first read this, I imagined every country as its own planet. When we visit these places, even if we know the language and cultural customs, the way in which its citizens think and perceive reality is inherently different from our own views. I love studying psychology and attempting to grasp why people behave the way they do. To ponder the idea that billions of other people on this planet experience emotions and thoughts differently from what I have learned is eye-opening on a deeply personal level. I hope to grow in knowledge of this concept and eventually learn another language to possess another soul.

#mexico #spanish #language

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thedevilsruby · 3 years

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Crush (Karl x Reader NSFW Oneshot)

(Warning: Dubcon/implied noncon ahead!)

You stirred in your sleep, trying to get more comfortable. You couldn't sleep much.

You were thinking about Lord Heisenberg. You had developed a small crush in the last few weeks you worked with him. You contemplated telling him.

Then again, if you told him, you ran the risk of him being disgusted and kicking you out of the factory.

You sighed and turned over on your other side...only to feel eyes on you.

Wondering why you felt like that, you opened your eyes and saw Lord Heisenberg standing over you, staring.

"L-Lord Heisenberg?" You asked, sitting up.

"It's Karl, Y/n." He corrected you.

Karl? Why the informalities? Your eyes darted back and forth, wondering why he was here. "C-Can I help you?" You asked.

He suddenly cupped your cheek and kissed you deeply. You jolted and pulled back out of instinct. "W-What are you doing?!" You asked.

"I need you, kitten." He said, green eyes meeting yours. "Things with Ballena didn't work out. She says she can't handle the fact I haven't touched her in weeks."

You didn't tell him but you saw that coming a mile away. The Lord tried but he just didn't have time for romance. That's why you were so reluctant to tell him about your own feelings.

But at the same time, he was probably just using you as a relief from his break up. As he said before, he hasn't had sex in weeks.

Your thoughts were cut off by another kiss. This time he pinned you down so you couldn't move.

"Please, Y/n" He said desperately, stroking your cheek. "let me do this."

You bit your lip. He was vulnerable, and clearly not in the right mind. You weren't sure what to do.

He seemed to decide for you, tugging your nightshirt over your head and tossing it aside.

"Hey!" You protested, trying to cover yourself.

"No bra, Y/n?" Karl asked amusedly.

"It's not comfortable sleeping with it..." You said, blushing deeply. You felt so exposed.

Karl removed your hands, admiring your chest. He let out a little snarl before taking a nipple into his mouth, making you squeak.

He licked and nibbled on the hard nub, you couldn't help but moan. You weren't even sure if you wanted this or not but it felt good.

He then switched sides, making you whimper. You gasped as he used his knee to rub against your area. "You like this, don't you?" He grinned at you.

You bit your lip. You weren't sure what you wanted at this point. He seemed to be making all your choices at this point.

He ripped your shorts away, smirking. "Pink stars, Y/n?" He asked. You looked away without a response. He chuckled, yanking your panties down. "Cute." He said, tossing them carelessly over his shoulder. He admired your center, running a finger along it, making you moan and buck your hips.

"My word, you're wet." He smirked, deciding to take it up a notch by licking it quickly. You let out a loud moan, grabbing his hair. "Good girl." He chuckled amusedly.

He pulled his own pants and boxers down, kicking them off and climbing back on top of you. "Ready for me, kitten?" He asked you.

You opened your mouth to answer, but he already slid into you. You threw your head back and screamed, he didn't even let you adjust. He simply started thrusting right away.

You teared up, it hurt a little. He was so big. "S-Slow down..." You managed to whimper out.

"Can't, it feels too good." He breathed, clutching your hand in his, as if to comfort you.

You whimpered as he went harder and faster, moaning and kissing your cheek and forehead.

"Gonna cum, bunny." He moaned, picking up his pace once again.

"Karl, wait, please!" You said, trying to push him off.

It was too late, he roared out his completion as he pumped himself into you. You panted hard, not liking how it felt.

He kissed your lips one more time before getting up and putting his clothes back on.

"That was great, kitten. Same time tomorrow." It wasn't a question. He smirked at you one last time from the doorway. "Sleep well."

And with that, he walked out, leaving you to your own thoughts.

#resident evil 8 #resident evil village #karl heisenberg #karl x reader #self insert

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pananni · 4 years

Conversation

Corazón: I am Corazón de Ballena.

Guard: That- That wasn't the answer to my question.

#incorrect quotes #incorrect oxventure quotes #outside xbox #outside xtra #source: ?

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moreaugriffins · 4 years

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The one where Corazon is sad

A/N- tried to write a fan fiction based on @workingonit-currently ‘s hc on how the oxventurers acted when they were sad.

Warnings (just incase): there’s cussing, Corazon is an asshole to Dob, Lord Milquetoast being a not good father

It was odd seeing Corazon acting like this. He never went along with stupid impulsive plans usually made by either Dob or Egbert. Well, never was a stretch, but when he was sober, he did not go along with the plans.

However, Corazon hadn’t been drinking, yet when Dob suggested a ‘who could climb this random tall tree the fastest’ competition, he was the first one to agree to it. Prudence tried not to worry about it. So what if he was a bit more impulsive than usual? He would get hurt, and learn not to do it again. Simple.

But that paired with the fact that Corazon has also been too casual. Spending his own money, and spending more than what is needed. Swearing more often than he normally would. Grabbing one of the others arms, or hugging them, or wrapping his arm around their shoulder. If Corazon’s sudden willingness to go along with their plans didn’t raise any red flags, his sudden physical affection certainly would.

Prudence watched as Corazon tipped the bartender, noticing that he tipped more than he needed to. It seemed Dob also noticed, as the half orc nudged him.

“That was a lot of money you just tipped there buddy.” Dob chuckled, finding it somehow funny in his drunken state.

“Did I,” Corazon furrowed his eyebrows, before shrugging,”of course I did. He made a damn fine grog.”

“Are you feeling ok?” Dob asked, now more concerned about the pirate, but Corazon drank his grog, with a small smile.

“Of course I am.”

Prudence frowned to herself. His response seemed incredibly fake, it was almost laughable, but Dob didn’t push any further, which she admitted was probably the best thing to do.

Corazon’s mood increasingly got worse as time went on, and Prudence had started to wish that Dob had pushed for a proper answer from Corazon, or maybe if she did. But that would mean she’d have to admit to eavesdropping on a private conversation.

Now he was permanently irritated at any and everything, which had started to affect the mood of the group. He had started fights with each and every one of his friends, usually ending with either a door slamming or someone (probably Merilwen or Dob) crying.

Having agreed to spend the night on the Joyful Damnation, Prudence, Merilwen and Egbert listened as Dob played his selection of songs, including the lullaby he heard from his sister. He played it often enough for the group to know the lyrics, and it became their go-to sing along song.

Dob strummed some chords on his lute, singing, ”hey now hey now,” before the others joined in singing, to various degrees of success.

“Will you stop with this racket?” Corazon grunting. Prudence was surprised that she had not heard the door open.

“Cor! Come join us!” Egbert patted an empty space next to him, excitedly, oblivious to the scowl on Corazon’s face.

“And listen to this shit melody? I’d rather fucking drown.”

The sound of chords stopped. That clearly struck a nerve in Dob, which made her wince. She may be mean, but even she wouldn’t have made a comment like that. What had gotten into him?

“Bloody hell Corazon,” Merilwen did not look happy, and rightly so,”That’s Dob’s sister’s lullaby. How could you say that?”

“Ah yes, the sister that essentially abandoned Dob,” Prudence glanced at Dob, who stared at the wooden floorboard, clearly trying not to cry,”The one that fucked off to god knows where, to get away from young Dob after he was infected. You mean that sister?”

Egbert slowly pulled Dob into a hug, noticing how his shoulders were shaking. Prudence was glad that Egbert was taking care of Dob. She had no idea how to handle people when they are crying. However, she did know how to handle angry people.

She opened her mouth to speak, but Merilwen was quicker.

“How dare you. You had no right to say that,” it felt weird seeing Merilwen being angry over something that has nothing to do with animals,”You are an absolute arsehole.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

“Just fuck off will you? If you’re not going to apologise to Dob. Get yourself drunk by yourself.”

“Fine, I will.”

“Fine.”

And like that, he was gone.

Prudence glanced at Dob, who was appreciating Egbert's hug, then to Merilwen. She was starting to calm down, slowly.

“Corazon was being horrid, but i don't think you should have reacted like that.” Prudence said, and Merilwen hummed, biting her lip in contemplation. She said nothing though, instead, turning her attention to the half orc.

Corazon came back to the Joyful Damnation the next morning, suffering from a terrible hangover, and guilt. He tried to apologise to Dob, but it took a good few days for Dob to accept the apology.

It felt like things should have gotten better from there, but once again, Corazon had only gotten worse.

Prudence was ashamed to admit that she did not notice that something was wrong, until Egbert had pointed it out one evening, whilst Corazon was locked away in his quarters.

“Corazon has been weird lately.” Egbert mentioned, earning confused looks from the others.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean.. He’s been wearing that same outfit for like, two weeks now, which he never does, I think.. and he’s spent practically all his time in his quarters. I’m starting to miss his outlandish behaviour.” Prudence furrowed her eyebrows. Was that true? She tried to recall the last time she had seen Corazon willingly spend time with the group, and seemed like he had fun, but she couldn’t remember that happening in the recent weeks.

He was no longer angry, so they all assumed that meant he was starting to feel better, but maybe that wasn’t the case.

“He’s a bloody idiot,” Prudence exclaimed,”um not you Egbert, I Meant Corazon. Why can’t he talk about his damn problems and work through them, instead of giving up like this!”

“you shouldn’t get annoyed with him, we all do the same thing, more or less,” Merilwen looked down at the drink in her hand,”but maybe someone should check on him.”

“I’ll do it.”

She went to his room, first thing in the morning, and banged on his door. She knew Corazon would be awake, and she did not care wether or not Corazon told her to fuck off, but it felt like knocking was appropriate.

She waited, but heard no answer, so she opened the door to find that Corazon was curled up on his bed, staring at his wall.

He did not acknowledge her. She huffed and walked over to corazon, standing in front of him.

“Get up,” She commanded,”You are going to get changed, and eat some food, and have fun with all of us.”

Corazon looked up at her, then away, shaking his head,”No thank you.”

“I didn’t ask if you can do it. I'm telling you.” She could not help but roll her eyes, as she opened up his closet, looking at all the clothes. She had no idea what to pair together, so she simply grabbed a shirt, trousers and boxers, before throwing them roughly in Corazon’s direction.

Prudence kept her eyes on the closet, until she heard the rustling of the clothes stop.

“This shade doesn't go well with these trousers.” Corazon mumbled, sorting out the buttons on his cuffs. He didn't seem annoyed though, it sounded like he was too tired to feel any properly, and Prudence hated it. Why didn’t he talk about whatever is upsetting him, then he wouldn’t be in this state? How didn’t they notice he was slipping? Why didn’t she try harder to help him, instead of stand at the fucking sidelines?

She took a deep breath. Getting angry would not help.

“Well at least they’re fresh clothes,” her eyes scanned over his desk, and she noticed his makeup collection. Corazon’s eyes were also on it,”Would you like me to do your makeup?”

She heard a barely audible,”please.”

She grabbed the eyeshadow palette and eyeliner before sitting down on the bed next to him. Corazon clearly needed a shower, so she shouldn't go over the top.

They sat in silence as she put some dark eyeshadow on him, before moving onto the eyeliner. Thank the lord corazon wasn’t his bossy self, or else he would have been complaining about the eyeliner not being symmetrical.

“I received a letter from my father.” She gritted her teeth, but said nothing,”turns out some people have realised that i simply changed my name from ‘de leon’ to ‘de ballena’. He’s not happy… about them finding out, and also what we’ve been doing. What I've been doing.”

“Who cares what he thinks,” she finished the eyeliner, and looked at Corazon properly,”He has no control over you.”

“You think I don't know that?” there was a twinge of annoyance, as he balled up his hands,”I’m a fucking adult, I’ve lived happily without him for years, yet his words still affect me! It’s crap!”

“Then you talk to us about it, you dufus,” Prudence ruffled his hair, which earned a scowl from him. She waited for an answer, but did not receive one. Even if he isn’t talking now, at least she got something from him. Now, to force him to look after himself. she huffed and pulled Corazon up. He made a noise of protest, but she was not having it.

“Egbert has made breakfast for us all so you are coming with me.”

#oxventure #corazon de ballena #prudence #dob #egbert #merilwen #dnd #meant to finish and publish this yesterday but writers block #I'm just glad that I managed to finish it

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dramamines · 7 months

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You requested asks so asks you shall have! What are some of your favorite headcanons?

Ima give you some Helluva Boss headcanons cause thats how we became mutuals :3 I don't have heaps and some could be considered semi-canon but here u go

After Seeing Stars, Octavia and Loona develop a sister-like dynamic, and complain to each other about Blitz and Stolas's relationship (but also hope they just sort their shit out)

Blitz watches My Little Pony, says Rainbow Dash is his fav but really it's Rarity

Stolas writes and performs songs all the time, most of the time they're about Blitz (stolas sings is his saddest)

Stolas loves gardening

Stella definitely cheated on Stolas, just hid it MUCH better than Stolas, and is using his affair to be angry

Blitz loves to secretly visit the human world to watch horses

Millie loves cats

Moxxie cooks for Millie a lot, and makes her breakfast in bed

Loona always refers to Blitz as Dad in her head, but calls him Blitz (mostly) out loud cause she's embarrassed

That's all I really have rn, I can't think of heaps :3

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sciencespies · 4 years

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Digging Into the Past to Find Optimism for the Future

https://sciencespies.com/nature/digging-into-the-past-to-find-optimism-for-the-future/

Digging Into the Past to Find Optimism for the Future

Smithsonian Voices Conservation Commons

Digging Into the Past to Find Optimism for the Future

April 20th, 2020, 2:27PM / BY

Cat Kutz

Scientists from the Smithsonian’s National Museum of Natural History (including Nick Pyenson, left) and the Smithsonian Tropical Research Institute collect a fossil dolphin from the Caribbean coast of Panama. The fossil is encased in a white plaster jacket, and recovered as the tide rushed in. © Aaron O’Dea / Smithsonian Institution

Dr. Nick Pyenson is the curator of fossil marine mammals at the Smithsonian Institution’s National Museum of Natural History in Washington, DC. His expeditions have taken him to every continent studying the evolution and ecology of marine mammals. Along with his collaborators, he has named over a dozen new fossil species, discovered the richest fossil whale graveyard on the planet, and described an entirely new sensory organ in living whales. Ahead of the Earth Optimism Digital Summit, during which Pyenson will hold a Deep Dive on science diplomacy, Earth Optimism communications lead Cat Kutz asks him how he finds optimism while digging into the Earth’s past.

How does looking into our planet’s past inspire hope for the future? We know that story of what will happen in the coming decades and centuries — changes in temperature, ocean acidity, sea level — is written in the geologic past. Past Earths have seen the kind of changes we’re about to experience. What’s different about where we’re going has to do with the rate of these changes (all happening within human lifetimes) and the biodiversity at hand (it includes us, and we depend on it). In that light, we need to have a solid understanding of how life on this planet has responded to past changes, and that’s a challenge when the fossil record is incomplete and not entirely known. I’m inspired by that challenge, because I see the answers coming out of a mix of good work: in labs, in museum collections, and also out in the field. There’s never been a time when natural history museums have been more important.

Nick Pyenson and his colleagues next to fossil whales from Cerro Ballena, a site in the Atacama of Chile. © Adam Metallo / Smithsonian Institution

What role do you think Earth Optimism has to play during the current global circumstance?

The current pandemic disruption in many ways brings to our doorsteps problems that have been building for many decades: the fragmentation of ecosystems, the consequences of urbanization without foresight, and the need to integrate science as part of international action and policy. I’m hopeful because I think our current crisis communicates the urgency for real solutions in a way that the looming problems of climate haven’t; glacial melt and sea level change seems farther removed from our field of concern than respiratory distress from a virus. Urgency can focus our attention on tools at hand to creatively build out of this crisis and focus on the bigger structural issues that bear on the long term: socioeconomic inequality, climate solutions, and strong international institutions.

Do you have a favorite conservation success story?

My expertise is with marine mammals, and they’ve long been the target of systematic hunts, which in some cases have killed millions of animals. Those changes likely had widespread ecological effects to the oceans that we barely understand. The good news is that effective policies (such as the US Marine Mammal Protection Act in 1972) have mitigated those losses and guided the rehabilitation of some of the most devastated species, including some of the largest whales. Today, those survivors — such as right whales and gray whales — have rebounded in numbers, but still contend with the challenges of living alongside us in noisy and messy urban oceans. We need to implement more smart policies, and I think we will start seeing that again in the US.

Scientists and photographers collect images of a humpback whale in Wilhelmina Bay, Antarctica. © Nicholas Pyenson / Smithsonian Institution under NOAA and ACA permit.  

What are you looking forward to during the now digital Earth Optimism Summit?

I’m helping to organize and moderate a Deep Dive on the future of science diplomacy, something I think is right inline with our broader needs to see science play a role in foreign policy and international affairs. Aside from that, I’m really excited to see younger and more diverse voices participate in the social media conversations about the Summit. They’re future voters, leaders, and teachers.

#Nature

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pia-writes-things · 1 year

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Thanks for the tag @viciousland ! This was fun <3

rule: tag (9) people you want to know better and or catch up w, then answer these questions below!

three ships: (only three is hard!) Masriel, Thornélie, Luther and Alice (but that's at the moment because otherwise, I could also add Jopper, River and the Doctor, and Pendranièvre ^^)

last song: Technically it's a one-hour long youtube video called "a playlist for misunderstood artists" (just classical music really). But the last real song was A Thousand Years (Christina Perri)

currently reading: Donde cantan las ballenas by Sara Jaramillo Klinkert. I'm only 4 or 5 chapters in but I like it so far.

last movie: Sense and sensibility (i liked it so the end felt sooooo rushed ! don't know if it's like that in the book but yeah, felt really rushed)

craving: sleep ? i don't really crave anything rn cause i just finished my afternoon smoothie but I do feel tired

I don't have anyone to tag at the moment but if this is something that seems fun, consider yourself tagged by me !!

#tag game #viciousland #pia's oversharing

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fraguelworld-blog · 5 years

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UN EXPRESO DEL FUTURO (cuento) Julio Verne Ande con cuidado gritó mi guía. ¡Hay un escalón! Descendiendo con seguridad por el escalón de cuya existencia así me informó, entré en una amplia habitación, iluminada por enceguecedores reflectores eléctricos, mientras el sonido de nuestros pasos era lo único que quebraba la soledad y el silencio del lugar. ¿Dónde me encontraba? ¿Qué estaba haciendo yo allí? Preguntas sin respuesta. Una larga caminata nocturna, puertas de hierro que se abrieron y se cerraron con estrépitos metálicos, escaleras que se internaban (así me pareció) en las profundidades de la tierra… No podía recordar nada más. Carecía, sin embargo, de tiempo para pensar. Seguramente usted se estará preguntando quién soy yo -dijo mi guía. El coronel Pierce, a sus órdenes. ¿Dónde está? Pues en Estados Unidos, en Boston… en una estación. -¿Una estación? -Así es; el punto de partida de la Compañía de Tubos Neumáticos de Boston a Liverpool. Y con gesto pedagógico, el coronel señaló dos grandes cilindros de hierro, de aproximadamente un metro y medio de diámetro, que surgían del suelo, a pocos pasos de distancia. Miré esos cilindros, que se incrustaban a la derecha en una masa de mampostería, y en su extremo izquierdo estaban cerrados por pesadas tapas metálicas, de las que se desprendía un racimo de tubos que se empotraban en el techo; y al instante comprendí el propósito de todo esto. ¿Acaso yo no había leído, poco tiempo atrás, en un periódico norteamericano, un artículo que describía este extraordinario proyecto para unir Europa con el Nuevo Mundo mediante dos colosales tubos submarinos? Un inventor había declarado que el asunto ya estaba cumplido. Y ese inventor el coronel Pierce estaba ahora frente a mí. Recompuse mentalmente aquel artículo periodístico. Casi con complacencia, el periodista entraba en detalles sobre el proyecto. Informaba de que eran necesarios más de tres mil millas de tubos de hierro, que pesaban más de trece millones de toneladas, sin contar los buques requeridos para el transporte de los materiales: 200 barcos de dos mil toneladas, que debían efectuar treinta y tres viajes cada uno. Esta “Armada de la Ciencia” era descrita llevando el hierro hacia dos navíos especiales, a bordo de los cuales eran unidos los extremos de los tubos entre sí, envueltos por un triple tejido de hierro y recubiertos por una preparación resinosa, con el objeto de resguardarlos de la acción del agua marina. Pasado inmediatamente el tema de la obra, el periodista cargaba los tubos (convertidos en una especie de cañón de interminable longitud) con una serie de vehículos, que debían ser impulsados con sus viajeros dentro, por potentes corrientes de aire, de la misma manera en que son trasladados los despachos postales en París. Al final del artículo se establecía un paralelismo con el ferrocarril, y el autor enumeraba con exaltación las ventajas del nuevo y osado sistema. Según su parecer, al pasar por los tubos debería anularse toda alteración nerviosa, debido a que la superficie interior del vehículo había sido confeccionada en metal finamente pulido; la temperatura se regulaba mediante corrientes de aire, por lo que el calor podría modificarse de acuerdo con las estaciones; los precios de los pasajes resultarían sorprendentemente bajos, debido al poco costo de la construcción y de los gastos de mantenimiento… Se olvidaba, o se dejaba aparte cualquier consideración referente a los problemas de la gravitación y del deterioro por el uso. Todo eso reapareció en mi conciencia en aquel momento. Así que aquella “Utopía” se había vuelto realidad ¡y aquellos dos cilindros que tenía frente a mí partían desde este mismísimo lugar, pasaban luego bajo el Atlántico, y finalmente alcanzaban la costa de Inglaterra! A pesar de la evidencia, no conseguía creerlo. Que los tubos estaban allí, era algo indudable, pero creer que un hombre pudiera viajar por semejante ruta… ¡jamás! -Obtener una corriente de aire tan prolongada sería imposible -expresé en voz alta aquella opinión. Al contrario, ¡Absolutamente fácil! -protestó el coronel Pierce. Todo lo que se necesita para obtenerla es una gran cantidad de turbinas impulsadas por vapor, semejantes a las que se utilizan en los altos hornos. Éstas transportan el aire con una fuerza prácticamente ilimitada, propulsándolo a mil ochocientos kilómetros horarios… ¡Casi la velocidad de una bala de cañón! De manera tal que nuestros vehículos con sus pasajeros efectúan el viaje entre Boston y Liverpool en dos horas y cuarenta minutos. ¡Mil ochocientos kilómetros por hora! exclamé. -Ni uno menos. ¡Y qué consecuencias maravillosas se desprenden de semejante promedio de velocidad! Como la hora de Liverpool está adelantada con respecto a la nuestra en cuatro horas y cuarenta minutos, un viajero que salga de Boston a las 9, arribará a Liverpool a las 3:53 de la tarde. ¿No es este un viaje hecho a toda velocidad? Corriendo en sentido inverso, hacia estas latitudes, nuestros vehículos le ganan al Sol más de novecientos kilómetros por hora, como si treparan por una cuerda movediza. Por ejemplo, partiendo de Liverpool al medio día, el viajero arribará a esta estación a las 9:34 de la mañana… O sea, más temprano que cuando salió. ¡Ja! ¡Ja! No me parece que alguien pueda viajar más rápidamente que eso. Yo no sabía qué pensar. ¿Acaso estaba hablando con un maniático?… ¿O debía creer todas esas teorías fantásticas, a pesar de la objeciones que brotaban de mi mente? Muy bien, ¡Así debe ser! -dije. Aceptaré que lo viajeros puedan tomar esa ruta de locos, y que usted puede lograr esta velocidad increíble. Pero una vez que la haya alcanzado, ¿cómo hará para frenarla? ¡Cuando llegue a una parada todo volará en mil pedazos! ¡No, de ninguna manera! -objetó el coronel, encogiéndose de hombros. Entre nuestros tubos (uno para irse, el otro para regresar a casa), alimentados consecuentemente por corrientes de direcciones contrarias, existe una comunicación en cada junta. Un destello eléctrico nos advierte cuando un vehículo se acerca; librado a su suerte, el tren seguiría su curso debido a la velocidad impresa, pero mediante el simple giro de una perilla podemos accionar la corriente opuesta de aire comprimido desde el tubo paralelo y, de a poco, reducir a nada el impacto final. ¿Pero de qué sirven tantas explicaciones? ¿No sería preferible una demostración? Y sin aguardar mi respuesta, el coronel oprimió un reluciente botón plateado que salía del costado de uno de los tubos. Un panel se deslizó suavemente sobre sus estrías, y a través de la abertura así generada alcancé a distinguir una hilera de asientos, en cada uno de los cuales cabían cómodamente dos personas, lado a lado. ¡El vehículo! -exclamó el coronel. ¡Entre! Lo seguí sin oponer la menor resistencia, y el panel volvió a deslizarse detrás de nosotros, retomando su anterior posición. A la luz de una lámpara eléctrica, que se proyectaba desde el techo, examiné minuciosamente el artefacto en que me hallaba. Nada podía ser más sencillo: un largo cilindro, tapizado con prolijidad; de extremo a extremo se disponían cincuenta butacas en veinticinco hileras paralelas. Una válvula en cada extremo regulaba la presión atmosférica, de manera que entraba aire respirable por un lado, y por el otro se descargaba cualquier exceso que superara la presión normal. Luego de perder unos minutos en este examen, me ganó la impaciencia: Bien -dije. ¿Es que no vamos a arrancar? ¿Si no vamos a arrancar? -exclamó el coronel Pierce. ¡Ya hemos arrancado! Arrancado… sin la menor sacudida… ¿cómo era posible?… Escuché con suma atención, intentando detectar cualquier sonido que pudiera darme alguna evidencia. ¡Si en verdad habíamos arrancado… si el coronel no me había estado mintiendo al hablarme de una velocidad de mil ochocientos kilómetros por hora… ya debíamos estar lejos de tierra, en las profundidades del mar, junto al inmenso oleaje de cresta espumosa por sobre nuestras cabezas; e incluso en ese mismo instante, probablemente, confundiendo al tubo con una serpiente marina monstruosa, de especie desconocida, las ballenas estarían batiendo con furiosos coletazos nuestra larga prisión de hierro! Pero no escuché más que un sordo rumor, provocado, sin duda, por la traslación de nuestro vehículo. Y ahogado por un asombro incomparable, incapaz de creer en la realidad de todo lo que estaba ocurriendo, me senté en silencio, dejando que el tiempo pasara. Luego de casi una hora, una sensación de frescura en la frente me arrancó de golpe del estado de somnolencia en que había caído paulatinamente. Alcé el brazo para tocarme la cara: estaba mojada. ¿Mojada? ¿Por qué estaba mojada? ¿Acaso el tubo había cedido a la presión del agua… una presión que obligadamente sería formidable, pues aumenta a razón de una “atmósfera” por cada diez metros de profundidad? Fui presa del pánico. Aterrorizado, quise gritar… y me encontré en el jardín de mi casa, rociado generosamente por la violenta lluvia que me había despertado. Simplemente, me había quedado dormido mientras leía el articulo de un periodista norteamericano, referido a los extraordinarios proyectos del coronel Pierce… quien a su vez, mucho me temo, también había sido soñado. AN EXPRESS OF THE FUTURE (story) Julio Verne "Be careful," my guide shouted. There is a step! Descending safely through the staircase of whose existence he informed me so, I entered a large room, illuminated by blinding electric reflectors, while the sound of our footsteps was the only thing that broke the loneliness and silence of the place. Where was I? What was I doing there? Questions without answer. A long walk at night, iron doors that opened and closed with metallic clattering, stairs that entered (as it seemed to me) into the depths of the earth ... I could not remember anything else. However, there was no time to think. "Surely you're wondering who I am," said my guide. Colonel Pierce, at your command. Where is? Well, in the United States, in Boston ... in a station. -A station? -So is; the starting point of the Pneumatic Tubing Company from Boston to Liverpool. And with a pedagogical gesture, the colonel pointed to two large iron cylinders, about a meter and a half in diameter, that emerged from the ground, a few steps away. I looked at those cylinders, which were embedded to the right in a mass of masonry, and at their left end were closed by heavy metal covers, from which a cluster of pipes that were embedded in the roof detached; and instantly I understood the purpose of all this. Had I not read, a short time ago, in an American newspaper, an article describing this extraordinary project to unite Europe with the New World by means of two colossal submarine tubes? An inventor had declared that the matter was already fulfilled. And that inventor - Colonel Pierce - was now in front of me. I mentally recomposed that newspaper article. Almost with complacency, the journalist went into detail about the project. He reported that more than three thousand miles of iron tubes, weighing more than thirteen million tons, were needed, not counting the ships required for the transport of the materials: 200 ships of two thousand tons, which had to make thirty-three trips each. This "Armada of Science" was described by taking the iron to two special ships, on board of which the ends of the tubes were joined to each other, wrapped in a triple iron fabric and covered by a resinous preparation, with the purpose of protect them from the action of seawater. Immediately after the subject of the work, the journalist loaded the tubes (converted into a kind of canyon of endless length) with a series of vehicles, which were to be propelled with their passengers inside, by powerful currents of air, in the same way that postal offices are moved in Paris. At the end of the article a parallel was established with the railway, and the author extolled the advantages of the new and daring system. According to his opinion, when going through the tubes should cancel any nervous disturbance, because the interior surface of the vehicle had been made of finely polished metal; the temperature was regulated by air currents, so that the heat could be modified according to the seasons; the prices of the passages would be surprisingly low, due to the low cost of construction and maintenance costs ... He forgot, or left aside any consideration regarding the problems of gravitation and deterioration by use. All that reappeared in my consciousness at that moment. So that "Utopia" had become a reality, and those two cylinders in front of me started from this very place, then passed under the Atlantic, and finally reached the coast of England! Despite the evidence, I could not believe it. That the pipes were there, it was something undoubted, but to believe that a man could travel by such a route ... never! "Getting such a long draft would be impossible." I expressed that opinion aloud. On the contrary, Absolutely easy! protested Colonel Pierce. All that is needed to obtain it is a large number of steam-driven turbines, similar to those used in blast furnaces. They transport air with practically unlimited force, propelling it at eighteen hundred kilometers per hour ... Almost the speed of a cannonball! In such a way that our vehicles with their passengers make the trip between Boston and Liverpool in two hours and forty minutes. -Mil eight hundred kilometers per hour! - I exclaimed. Not one less. And what wonderful consequences come from such an average speed! As Liverpool time is ahead of ours in four hours and forty minutes, a traveler leaving Boston at 9 will arrive in Liverpool at 3:53 in the afternoon. Is not this a trip made at full speed? Running in the opposite direction, towards these latitudes, our vehicles beat the Sun more than nine hundred kilometers per hour, as if climbing a moving rope. For example, leaving Liverpool at noon, the traveler will arrive at this station at 9:34 in the morning ... That is, earlier than when he left. Ha! Ha! I do not think anyone can travel faster than that. I did not know what to think. Was I talking to a maniac? Or should I believe all those fantastic theories, despite the objections that came from my mind? Okay, that's the way it should be! -said. I'll accept that travelers can take that crazy route, and that you can achieve this incredible speed. But once you have reached it, how will you stop it? When it comes to a stop everything will fly in a thousand pieces! -Not in any way! the colonel objected, shrugging. Between our tubes (one to leave, the other to return home), fed consistently by currents of contrary directions, there is a communication at each meeting. An electrical flash warns us when a vehicle approaches; Left to its fate, the train would follow its course due to the speed printed, but by simply turning a knob we can drive the opposite stream of compressed air from the parallel tube and, little by little, reduce the final impact to nothing. But what good are so many explanations? Would not a demonstration be preferable? And without waiting for my answer, the colonel pressed a shiny silver button that came out of the side of one of the tubes. A panel slid smoothly on its grooves, and through the opening thus generated I could distinguish a row of seats, each of which comfortably accommodated two people, side by side. -The vehicle! exclaimed the colonel. Between! I followed it without putting up any resistance, and the panel slid back behind us, resuming its previous position. In the light of an electric lamp, which was projected from the ceiling, I examined minutely the artifact in which I was. Nothing could be simpler: a long cylinder, upholstered with neatness; from end to end fifty seats were arranged in twenty-five parallel rows. A valve at each end regulated atmospheric pressure, so that breathable air entered on one side, and on the other, any excess that exceeded normal pressure was discharged. After losing a few minutes in this exam, I gained the impatience: "Good," I said. Are we not going to start? -If we're not going to start? Colonel Pierce exclaimed. We have already started! Started ... without the slightest shake ... how was it possible? ... I listened with great attention, trying to detect any sound that could give me some evidence. If we had really started ... if the Colonel had not been lying to me about a speed of one thousand eight hundred kilometers per hour ... we should have been far from land, in the depths of the sea, next to the immense waves of foamy crest above our heads; and even at that very moment, probably, confusing the tube with a monstrous marine snake, of unknown species, the whales would be furiously beating our long iron prison! But I heard nothing but a dull rumor, provoked, no doubt, by the translation of our vehicle. And drowned by an incomparable astonishment, unable to believe in the reality of everything that was happening, I sat quietly, letting time pass. After almost an hour, a sensation of freshness on my forehead suddenly snatched me from the drowsy state into which I had gradually fallen. I raised my arm to touch my face: it was wet. Wet? Why was it wet? Had the tube given way to the pressure of the water ... a pressure that would be formidable, because it increases at the rate of one "atmosphere" for every ten meters of depth? I panicked. Terrified, I wanted to scream ... and I found myself in the garden of my house, sprinkled generously by the violent rain that had awakened me. I had simply fallen asleep while reading the article by an American journalist, referring to the extraordinary projects of Colonel Pierce ... who in turn, I fear, had also been dreamed.

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