Ichairi: 1: noun. A public, political opinion or statement held by a politician. 2: noun. Popular. Any opinion.
It was that time of the nine-year cycle again. Half the news pieces on Ada Collier were political. Marai had never been one for politics. If voting hadn't been compulsory, she wouldn't have done it. So she was surprised when her boss told her to talk to some reporters about the galactic mapping and exploration they were doing at Lockwood and Al-Hajj.
The reporters—both female, and whose names were of the popular style 25 years ago—came the next day at ten to interview her. They all sat down in a conference room and started. Marai was prepared, in part due to a quick study session sandwiched between a date and sleep last night. The interview went well. Marai didn't embarass herself or the company, which she counted as full success.
"...asaț fåme fåicairi ve va axtlåraihån wekånțeyuț..." Marai Shaus, 18/5/2804.
"...it's my ichairi that the exploration will continue..." Marai Shaus, 18/5/2804.
The departmental one was easy to read and acknowledge. It was just a request to tweak the formatting of the .gnmap files a little. The rest she was a little apprehensive to read. She had prided herself on her excellent Eglyash throughout secondary school, and while that wasn't how she identified herself now, it would still sting to learn she had made a mistake.
The first one, from an Amabilis Deyålsu, entitled "Your interview":
I watched your interview with Ms. Shosu and Ms. Țolmåhur, and found you very eloquent until the end where you said, and I quote "It's my ichairi that the exploration will continue". I have to say, I was very disappointed that such a seemingly well-educated woman as yourself could fall prey to a dullard's error.
You see, an ichairi has a three-point definition: it is public, it is political, and it is held by a politician. One such as yourself cannot have an ichairi because you are not in the political realm.
You should be ashamed of yourself.
Amabilis Deyålsu, esq.
Marai wasn't sure what to do about this. She told herself that it wasn't that imporant; she was an astronomer, not a writer. Ships wouldn't be lost because she misused the word "ichairi". It still stung though. For a girl who had gotten the highest marks possible in pre-modern Eglyash, any accusation of misusing the Eglyash language hurt.
"The use of ichairi to mean opinion is as old as the use of ichairi to mean political stance. That's why I ignore the grammar nazis, because if they had their way, we would be sitting at home speaking Proto-World." Ursula Shaus, on her blog, 5/2/2804.
Marai had some coworkers who poked fun at her misuse of "ichairi". Some of them were self-professed grammar nazis. Her boss had told her that she received some recommendations to fire Marai because of what was now referred to variously as "the incident" or "how Marai doesn't know how to use 'ichairi' right".
Marai never could have guessed how much vitriol such a simple mistake could bring. At first, she had felt ashamed, like she had failed the Eglyash language somehow. But the tone of the continued responses made her pause. Why would anyone think it would be okay to fire someone because they said something grammatically incorrect?
Her brother-in-law translated documents from a couple dialects of pre-modern Eglyash into modern Eglyash. Whenever she worried about making some grammatical error, he always said "Don't worry about it. Eventually, everyone will die and that grammatical error will be a standard part of Eglyash." He said that he translated part of a grammar guide from the 22nd century in university, and that half the grammatical corrections it proposed were obsolete the next century.
Marai on her part ignored the criticisms of her language that continued. They rehashed the same message over and over again. She decided not to be bothered by such a trivial mistake. If her brother-in-law was right, it wasn't even a mistake. It was progress.