SOS, Someone Said
Someone started the discussion by saying somebody should explain what SOS stands for. Somebody said the Germans made up the signal and called it Notzeichen. Someone else claimed that wouldn’t work because people wouldn’t understand what Save Our Notzeichen means. Somebody added that Save Our Souls is simpler to understand, unless someone’s German. But someone pointed out that anyone could say that and that still wouldn’t make it true.
Someone shouted, "No, it actually means Save Our Ship!" Somebody insisted that the distress code can be used by people who have neither souls nor ships. Someone else spoke up and explained that it’s not really an acronym for anything. Then somebody claimed that someone somewhere made up the signal but anybody can fill in the words it represents. Someone else added that those words are called backronyms, words created after the fact.
Someone tried to tone down the heated argument and pointed out that the code is made up of three dots, three dashes, and three dots. But somebody reminded us that someone could have been fooling us. Anybody can fool anyone else and that’s gone on since time began. Someone agreed it's hard to trust anything or anyone anymore. Somebody else agreed.
Someone got the group back on topic and asked, does SOS work? Somebody needs to give us an example since anyone can claim it works. So someone provided proof. Someone told us about the steamship Kentucky that sank off North Carolina in 1910. Somebody added that this was the first ship to use the code on radio. Somebody else added that all forty-six people on board were saved—not a single person drowned thanks to signaling SOS. Someone said if only anyone could believe these stories. Somebody else said we can't know if it’s true because there could have been ships sinking that tapped out the code, but it wasn’t picked up by anyone. In that case, no one would have been saved using SOS. These ships would have sunk before the S S Kentucky.
To end the SOS discussion, someone pointed out that one major value of the acronym is that it’s an ambigram—it’s readable upside down as well as right side up. Somebody said it’s also a palindrome that reads the same forward or backwards. Somebody said the group was tired of thinking and unfamiliar words. Someone said, “Let's go home.” So they did.
Pamelyn Casto
Pamelyn Casto's book, Flash Fiction: Alive in the Flicker, A Portable Workshop, includes a history of flash literature, craft essays, a workable marketing strategy, markets, teaching exercises, prompts, and much more. She has written articles on flash fiction for various magazines-- including Writer's Digest, OPEN: Journal of Arts & Letters, Fiction Southeast. She also writes prose poetry, poetry, haibun, and essays.
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Comments
This piece gets me thinking of how we sometimes go around and around on an idea, fixated it seems on out certainty while displaying our uncertainty, and ultimately getting tired of confusion and calling it a day. Thank you Pamelyn.
The small impenetrable term, surrounded by the large crowd of anonymous seekers, seems to have more in it than you'd expect from the outside.