Clockwork Orange Language Novels & Stories

He muttered a low, rapid string of words under his breath in a completely foreign, melodic, yet cutting language: *"Un mucchio di idioti che rendono le cose più difficili del solito." ~ A bunch of idiots making everything harder than usual. A sudden, violent shiver shot straight down my spine, so intense it made the hairs on my arms stand up. My eyes instantly lit up, my lips parting in a small, genuine gasp. I had never heard him speak another language before. The syllables rolled off his tongue with a terrifyingly smooth, authoritative cadence, but what truly caught me off guard was the pitch. The foreign words seemed to drag his already deep voice into an even lower, raspy register, a pri

I asked, sipping my cappucino as I got settled with Raven and Chang in my other office. “I sent a version of the recording to a professor I know. Check it out.” Raven said, and pressed some buttons on her phone before handing it to me. I collected her phone and read the interaction between her and the professor. The more I read, the more dumbfounded I became. “Turns out the language they were speaking belonged to an ancient tribe that went extinct decades ago.” Raven said to Chang, “and the words involving Dora don’t sound nice.” I snapped my head up to meet her gaze. “Was he able to interpret them?”

One word I catch: Orologio. Clock. A code? A countdown? Hale stiffens beside me. He mouths: Go quiet. Don’t speak. Don’t move.

he gushed, grabbing Enzo’s hand with both of his and pumping them up and down in an overly enthusiastic handshake. “Professor Bianchi, we are right on time,” Enzo said with a slight arch to his brow. The older man turned back to the grandfather clock which had been nestled between the bookcases and barked a laugh. “Ah, so you are. It seems as if I am late as usual,” he smiled, turning back to Enzo. “So which language are we speaking today? Italian? Mandarin? Venda? Urdu?” The old man’s eyebrows wiggled in obvious good humour.