The story of WordSensei

Told by Cyril

The library on the hill

The Lexicon looks like a library. Really, it is the finest machine anyone ever built. I have studied it for years and I still only understand half of it.

Here is the half I understand. Every word ever spoken in Lexis has a small glass lantern on its shelves. When a new word is born, a new lantern appears on a new shelf, which is why nobody has ever found the last page. When people use a word, its lantern glows.

Every lantern sends a little of its light up through the walls, like water up a pipe, all the way to the top of the dome. Up there sits the Great Lantern. When it shines, its light reaches far out over the sea, and anyone who sees it can find the words they need, whatever language they grew up with. That is how all those ships found us.

Not magic. Well. Mostly not magic. Excellent engineering.

Told by Verone

The Hush

Then came the Hush. I named it. Somebody had to.

It began on the top floor, in the Hall of Rare Words, where I spend my evenings. One by one, the oldest lanterns went dark. Nobody broke them. People simply stopped using those words. They said "nice" instead of "luminous", and "big" instead of "colossal", and the lanterns waited, and waited, and went out.

And when a lantern goes dark, its word begins to slip away from Lexis itself. The baker forgot how to spell bread. Sentences arrived at Cyril's workshop with holes in them. Meanings wilted in Vienna's garden. Signs went blank. The Great Lantern began to flicker, fewer ships came, and then hardly any.

I warned the town. Very dramatically, because it was very dramatic. Nobody believed me, except one girl in a helmet that was far too big for her.

The night on the steps

Told by Athena

Why we need you

Here is what we worked out that night. A lantern does not light again because a Keeper looks at it. It lights again when someone learns its word and starts to use it.

Five of us cannot learn every word in a language. Not even Nicholas, although he would like you to think so. So we needed helpers, as many as we could find. That is what WordSensei is: a place to learn the words back, a little every day. Every word you learn lights a lantern, and every lantern sends a little more light up to the dome.

The light fades if a word is left alone for too long, which is why we come back every day. Words stay bright as long as people use them.

And one day, if enough of us keep going, the Great Lantern will shine over the sea again. Lexis will be the place where anyone, from anywhere, can find the words to understand each other. That is what we are working for. Welcome to the Keepers. I am very glad you are here.

The idea

I asked the librarian how to save them. He said nobody knew. I asked the town council. They said it was not their department.

So I read every book about the Lexicon I could carry. In the oldest one, in handwriting so small I needed a magnifying glass, I found the answer: a forgotten word wakes up when someone learns it. Reading it is a start. Using it is what makes it glow.

Then I counted. There were millions of words and only one of me. Even with my brother and my friends, there would never be enough of us. We needed helpers, as many as we could find, and a way to teach them a little every day.

I called it WordSensei, because a sensei teaches and keeps learning at the same time. I checked the dictionary first. Twice.

Things I don't tell people

I stay because a Keeper does not leave a lantern dark. That was the only rule Grandmother ever gave me, and I have never broken it.

The helmet is still two sizes too big. Nicholas has offered to buy me a new one three birthdays in a row, and I have said no three times. Glaux sleeps in it during long lessons. Once he left an acorn in it, which owls do not normally do, and nobody knows where he got it.

Cyril made me a lantern that never goes out. I keep it on the very first shelf and tell everyone it is for the library. Vienna brings me lunch when I forget to eat, which is most days. Verone was right about the Hush before anyone, and I was the first to believe her. She still has not forgiven the rest of the town.

And I argue with my brother about almost everything. I also keep a shoebox under my bed, full of the notes he leaves on my desk. He does not know about the shoebox. Please don't tell him.

The chalk in my pocket

I can't walk past a sign that's spelled wrong. I really can't. So I carry chalk, and I fix them at night. The bakery in Lexis used to sell "braed". Now it sells bread, and the baker still has no idea why.

That is how I found the Hush, by the way. The signs weren't wrong because people were careless. The words were slipping. "Bread" was going dark up on the hill, so the baker couldn't hold on to it. Every sign I fix keeps a word alive until someone learns it properly.

That's what Word Type is. You get the meaning, and you build the word yourself, one letter at a time. If you get stuck, take a hint. A hint is fine as long as you finish the word yourself. I tell myself that a lot.

Ember, and the notes

Ember is my fox. She steals pencils. I write a lot, so this is a real problem, and she knows it, and she does it anyway.

Cyril and I go out on chalk missions together. He mends the broken sentences, I fix the spelling. Bolt steals his tools, Ember steals my pencils, and somehow they always end up in the same hiding place. Verone beats me at long words. I'm working on it. Vienna calls me "little speller". I pretend to hate it.

I leave notes on my sister's desk. Corrections, mostly. Sometimes a word I bet she doesn't know. She never says anything about them, so I suppose she throws them away. That's fine. She doesn't have to keep them. I'd just like her to read them first.

Purple ink

Every night, I choose one rare word and write it a hundred times in purple ink. By the end, my hand knows the word before my head does.

That is the idea behind Word Drill. The words are long and strange, and you type each one exactly as it is shown, a little faster each time. Speed is not the point. I will time you anyway.

I tried to warn the town about the Hush. I stood in the market square and said, "The words are going dark," in my lowest, most serious voice. A man asked if I was selling something. Only Athena listened. She climbed all those stairs the next morning, helmet and all, and said, "Show me." I have liked her ever since. Do not tell her I said "liked".

Quill

Quill is a raven who repeats the last word he hears. This is very useful when I am practising. It is less useful when I sneeze, or when Cyril tells a joke and Quill repeats the punchline for the rest of the week.

Cyril fixed my staircase once, but he left the seventh step creaky on purpose, so I always know when someone is coming. I pretended to be annoyed. It was thoughtful. Vienna is the only person who climbs all the way up without being asked. She brings soup.

People think I am gloomy because I wear dark purple and talk about forgotten things. I am not. I laugh louder than anyone in Lexis. I just do it where nobody can see, usually at the top of a very long staircase.

Pairs

Every word has a meaning waiting for it. You just have to introduce them. Here, have a sandwich while I explain.

That's Word Match. There are four words and four meanings, and you put each word with its partner. If you pair two that don't belong together, I really don't mind. I pull the seed back out and say, "Try the next spot." Have you had any water today?

I noticed the Hush in my garden before it even had a name. Some meanings started to wilt, even with water and sunshine. When a meaning droops, its word up on the hill is going dark. So I look after what I can down here, and I send people up the hill to learn the rest.

Clover

Clover is a young fawn who follows me up and down the rows and eats the little wooden labels. I've stopped putting labels out. I just remember what everything is.

I remember people the same way. I know the name of everyone in Lexis, and their favourite fruit. Athena has been my best friend since we were small; I bring her lunch because she forgets. Verone gets soup, because it is a long way up. Cyril built me a watering machine. It waters the wrong plants, and I love it. And Nicholas is my little speller, whether he likes it or not.

When Athena and Nicholas start arguing, which happens a lot, I don't take sides. I hand them each a sandwich and wait. It works every time, because nobody can argue properly with their mouth full.

The missing plank

To me, a sentence is a machine, and every word is a part. Take one out and the whole thing stops with a clunk.

In Word Fill I give you a sentence with a gap and four words that might fit. Only one of them makes the machine run. I like the wrong answers too. If a part doesn't fit, you have learned something about the machine. I write them all down in my notebook, which is mostly drawings of gears, plus a few drawings of Bolt.

Goggles

I wear my goggles everywhere, even at dinner, in case something explodes. Nothing has exploded at dinner yet. I put that down to the goggles.

Bolt helps by handing me tools, and he is wrong about nine times out of ten. I keep him as my assistant anyway, because the tenth time is usually exactly when I need it.

The night the Great Lantern flickered, I ran up the hill with a lantern I had built that never goes out. It could not fix the dome. But it was the only light on the steps that night, so we all sat around it. Afterwards I gave it to Athena. She keeps it on the very first shelf and says it is for the library.