Dating : The Magic Word

The most important word in human history

Stu clapped his gloves together while Evelyn waved the GPS in a circle.

“That’s not how it works,” Stu said. “Just hold it.” His teeth clattered like they were transmitting a message in Morse code. “It’s frigging cold.” A bite of snow slipped through an opening in Stu’s jacket.

“You think?” Evelyn’s lips were bluer than the aurora borealis they watched last night from their inn in Hammerfest, Norway, the country’s northernmost town. “We’re almost there.” A low mist obscured the forest floor.

“Define ‘almost.’” Without waiting for Evelyn to respond, Stu added, “What are two linguists doing in this frozen wilderness? They should have dispatched Navy seals or something.”

“They’re all dead, Stu. You know that. Every soldier’s gone, every weapon depleted, every plane destroyed. We’re it. Two linguists on a mission to save the Earth from extraterrestrial invaders.” Wind whipped around them, thinning her words.

“If we survive they should make a movie about us.” Stu chuckled. His attempt at humor warmed him a little bit.

“It was your idea. You’re the one who said the Vikings had a word so powerful and terrifying that King Harald Fairhair ordered it entombed in ice 1,100 years ago. You’re the one who said the mere utterance of this word was sufficient to unleash a monster formidable enough to vaporize the alien spacecraft with a single fiery breath.” She sighed. “I was just glad to get out of Edinburgh before it was our turn for obliteration.”

Hard snow crunched underfoot as they wended their way around aspens and pines, occasionally startling a rabbit. After another two hours, they reached a clearing.

Evelyn said, “We’re here. It’s time to dig.” She pocketed the GPS and removed the shovel from her backpack.

“How deep?” Stu asked.

“We dig until we either find the word or die of exhaustion.”

“What are we looking for exactly?”

“We’ll know when we find it. Or don’t.”

The deeper they dug, the softer the ground became, just the opposite of what Stu expected. Nearly four meters down, they unearthed eight preternatural letters composed of shimmering silvery red light that appeared to be halfway between neon and fire. The angular runic characters were each a hand’s width in size. They levitated in the hole Stu and Evelyn had dug and then rose to head level. There, the letters rapidly exchanged places like cards in an accelerated eight card monte game, until they formed a word.

“Can you speak it?”

Stu shook his head. He squinted and reached out toward the hovering word. As he was about to touch it, a roar like an avalanche assaulted them, jolting every cell in their bodies. Stu and Evelyn covered their ears.

The immense, bat-shaped alien spaceship materialized overhead, the barrel of its disintegration weapon aimed at Stu and Evelyn.

The word flew toward the ship and passed through the outer hull. The invading craft raised its bow forty-five degrees, fired its engines, and departed Earth.