It was 1995. A group of about fifty Europeans were touring the US, looking for new techniques we could bring back home. My boss and I were among them.
So was a French professor. He was around sixty, with a salt-and-pepper beard that merged into his mustache. He didn’t just speak — he broadcasted. A continuous stream of words in French or heavily accented English, with no stop button.
One afternoon we found ourselves in the steep amphitheater of Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory, seated halfway up the tiered rows. It was late afternoon and we were all tired. The professor’s chin dropped to his chest. A rhythmic, gentle snore rose from his throat, competing softly with the lecturer below.
Then a CRACK from the experiment on the podium.
The professor’s eyes snapped open. He didn’t blink. He didn’t look around to see where he was. Without missing a beat, he simply picked up the thread of a conversation that had apparently been running in his subconscious while he slept. The Talking Machine had rebooted. His voice filled the air once more.
That evening the whole group gathered in the hotel garden for drinks. We separated naturally. My boss and I with a pair of Swedes. The professor among the French, his words flowing like an endless river.
I got an idea.
“I can speak French,” I said to my boss.
“No way,” he laughed.
The truth was that I had studied French for one semester in middle school and forgotten most of it.
“I’ll prove it. I’ll go speak to the professor.”
“Do that,” he said. “It will be fun to watch.”
I went over and stood next to the professor. I waited for a small pause in his monologue. When it came, I repeated the last word he had said — as a question.
L’ordinateur?
He turned to me and started to speak.
I nodded slowly and occasionally slipped in a word or two.
“Oui, oui.”
“Je comprends.”
Then his last word again, with a questioning lift.
“L’avenir?”
That was all it took. I could have kept it going as long as I wanted. After a while it became boring, so I returned to my boss, who had been watching from a distance.
“Does that prove I can speak French?”
He wasn’t convinced. He walked over to the professor himself.
“Can Bob speak French?”
The professor didn’t hesitate.
“Oh, of course,” he said. “He speaks perfect French.”
