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A Numbers Game
As a semi-dedicated student of Polish, one of the first tasks I
attempted to master was an understanding of numbers. A chore
became a hobby when I found to my fascination that Polish and
English numbers didn't quite match. No, I'm not talking about
one through ten, or even one through a thousand or one through
a million. But later the numbers got a bit tricky. A milion did
indeed mean a million, but a bilion didn't mean a billion, but a
trillion. I found this fascinating. Images of lost riches flashed
through my head. And just days after I had made this discovery, I
actually had the chance to sit down with a Polish buddy and a
member of the Warsaw banking community.
Keep in mind this was 1995. By that time, I would have thought
everyone would have had the numbers game worked out. Yet
much was at play here, including ignorance, my own self-doubt
and the odd language barrier that forms when two out of three
people actually understand a foreign language with some sort of
fluency. The conversation went something like this:
Me: "Do the numbers in Polish ever give you any
trouble in banking?"
English banker: "Excuse me?"
Me: "You know. How a bilion doesn't mean a
billion in Polish, but actually means a trillion."
Andrzej: "What do you mean a bilion doesn't
mean a bilion in Polish. Of course it does."
Me: Andrzej, of course a bilion means a bilion
in Polish. But a bilion really means a trillion in
English."
Andrzej: "A billion in English means a trillion?"
English banker: "I'm not sure I follow you."
Me: "You're kidding. But you of all people should
know. How a bilion means a trillion, but a miliard
means a billion and a trylion means a quintillion..."
(Meanwhile, both Andrzej and the English banker are
looking at me like I'm nuts.)
Me: (Wondering if I'm not nuts.) "Am I the
only guy that understands this?"
Andrzej: "You said a bilion is not a bilion in
Polish and a trillion is not a trillion in English?"
English banker: (He looks concerned, but he is no longer speaking, and in fact is probably wondering just how we got to know
each other.)
Me: (Seeing his face and panicking.) "But you could lose a lot of
money!"
Needless to say, this conversation really did take place. Believing
that I had completely embarrassed myself, I scurried home and
dug out my various dictionaries and self-help language books. To
my elation (although it did make me worry about the state of
Polish banking), I was right, and just so you, dear reader, will not
be left out in the cold, here's the straight dope on big numbers. A
million means a milion. A miliard in Polish is actually a billion in
English and a trillion in English is actually a bilion in Polish. If you
think this is confusing, follow the next bit with care: A quadrillion
in English is really a biliard in Polish and a trylion in Polish (pronounced "trillion") is really a quintillion in English. Moreover, a
tryliard in Polish is a sextillion in English and a septillion in
English is a kwadrylion (pronounced "quadrillion") in Polish,
which should not be confused with the aforementioned English
80
quadrillon that is really a Polish biliard. Things finally come back
together when we hit the googol and googolplex level—not that
anyone knows what these numbers really mean—but ever since
that fateful day in 1995 I have wondered about just how mathematical juxtaposition of this sort impacted the Polish economy.
The problem was that this was at a time that we were dealing in
millions of złotys on a daily basis. A hundred złotys today was a
million złoty note back then, which meant that hitting billions and
trillions and quintillions was not as unlikely as it seemed. We were
all, in effect, millionaires, so what was going on in the world of
banking? In the government? Could somebody have screwed up?
Were there a few bank transfers based on the wrong number of
zeros? Was Poland richer than we all thought? Or a whole lot poorer? I, for one, have no answers, but the combination of milions
and billions and bilions and trillions—not to mention the tendency to use decimal points instead of commas in large numbers—
must have sent more than a few hearts racing in
the Ministry of Finance.
And if you think all of this sounds-far fetched,
according to a reasonably sound source
(www.ux1.math.us.edu.pl), the language barrier
has proven too much to overcome at least one
time in history when, at the end of the war of 1870,
the Germans demanded FF 5bn in war reparations, which in the minds of the French actually meant 1,000 times more money.
Now just in case I have shaken the foundations of math, or at least of your belief in math, I
should add that the confusion does not necessarily end here. The fact is that numbers with lots of
zeros have long boggled all but the most extreme
mathematicians and nuclear scientists. According to
the aforementioned website, only the Japanese
seem to have come to grips with such numbers,
and they have managed this by assigning
them various nicknames to keep them
straight. In Japanese a one followed by 88
zeros is called a murioutaisuu, which can be
roughly translated as "a whole lot of nothing." And eightyplex, or
a one with 80 zeros, is a bit easier to take in. The Japanese translate
this as one fukashigi, or one "don't even think about it." Smaller
exponents are labeled things like "the sands of the Ganges" or
"ongoing breath." Such pet names shed a lot of light on the subject—could you imagine a three-way conversation between
American, Polish and Japanese mathematicians? Between physicists or astronomers?
"Are we talking about the 'sands of the Ganges' or a 'whole lot of
nothing?'"
"Is a 'whole lot of nothing' equal to an eightyplex? Or is that a
'don't even think about it?'"
Personally, I find the possibility of such a conversation fascinating—to think there are really interpreters that can handle this
stuff. Of course there have to be. Some guys handle googolplexes.
Others translate work visa regulations or even poetry. Most likely,
others drink themselves into oblivion. After all, we all have our little job to do. And somewhere among the zeros there's got to be
some time for that too.
■ Preston Smith
Poland Monthly No.19 (09/2003)