78 Culture The Economist April 9th 2022
N
owadays everyfactory seems to be a
“gigafactory”. Elon Musk, the boss of
Tesla, recently cut the ribbon on a fourth
facility by that name, in Berlin. Tesla’s
Shanghai Gigafactory has been in the
news for a covidrelated halt in produc
tion. The Taiwan Semiconductor Manu
facturing Company (tsmc), one of the
world’s most important chipmakers, has
begun touting its “gigafabs”. Nissan has
announced a gigafactory in Sunderland,
in the northeast of England.
Giga is a prefix meaning “a billion” of
something. The Oxford English Dictio
nary drily describes it as an “arbitrary
derivative” of the Greek gigas, “giant”.
(The ancient Greeks apparently had no
need for a specific word for “billions”.)
But the various gigafactories don’t al
ways produce billions of anything: each
month the tsmcgigafab can start about
100,000 silicon wafers used for making
microchips, making it more of a hectoki
lofactory. (Hekatonand khilioireally are
Greek for 100 and 1,000.) Tesla, at least,
can claim that its original Gigafactory in
Nevada supplies billions of watthours of
batterycell output per year.
As science has expanded to the huge
and the tiny, the need for new metric
system prefixes has grown accordingly.
These have made their way into common
parlance mostly through computing. In
the 1980s a good computer might have
had 256 kilobytes of memory. The first
hard drives with a million bytes’ worth of
storage introduced the world to the
megabyte, a jawdropping notion at the
time. (Megas, too, was generic in Greek,
meaning “great”. A megalomaniac has
delusions of greatness, not millionaire
status.) But at least many people had
heard of the mega prefix before. When
the billionbyte mark was crossed, many
began encountering “giga” for the first
time, strange new linguistic territory
opened up by Moore’s Law.
It can be only a matter of time before
giga feels hohum; after all, a memory
card with 128 gigabytes of storage is today
the size of a thumbnail and costs around
$20. Affordable hard drives now have
terabyte—that is, trillionbyte—storage.
Having run out of terms for “big”, the
borrowers from Greek got creative: teras
means “monster”. As billions become
workaday, tera will become the new giga.
For a while, anyway. Whether or not
computing power continues to grow at the
rate it has in the past—a matter of some
debate—it is inevitable that peta and exa
will make their debut in the popular con
sciousness. Already selected by the In
ternational Committee for Weights and
Measures (icwm), peta and exa come
from Greek penta(five) and hexa(six),
representing 1,000^5 and 1,000^6 . After that,
the icwm’s prefixmongers have decided
to go for Latin rather than Greek. They
considered septa and octo for 1,000^7 and
1,000^8 . But the proposed s shortening of
septa could have been confused with an
abbreviation for a second, and the o for a
zero. So septa and octo were deformed
to zetta (1,000^7 ) and yotta (1,000^8 ).
As the system of prefixes can now
encompass a 1 followed by 24 zeroes,
most scientists will be happy to use 10^25
and the like for anything bigger. But not
college students: a group at the Universi
ty of California, Davis, started a petition
proposing a new prefix, hella, for 10^27.
Northern Californians will know hellaas
an adverb, derived from hell of, as in “he’s
hella ugly.” And as a prefix, it has gained
a bit of currency in the technology press,
if only jokingly. It would be the first of
the prefixes for huge numbers not to
come from the classical languages. “Hell”
is a Germanic word.
Small is cool too. The fractional
equivalent of giga is nano, the prefix
denoting a billionth. Nanotechnology is
big, so to speak: nanoparticles making
up nanobeads are hot topics in science
and technology. The hip feel conveyed by
the prefix was borrowed by Apple, which
named its tiny music player the Nano.
(Again, the etymology is classical: nanos
is the Greek word for “dwarf”.) If nano,
too, eventually becomes humdrum, look
out for pico (a trillionth, from Spanish
picofor “a little bit”), femto and atto,
from the Danish for 15 and 18, referring to
10 15and 1018.
Classicists once scoffed at words,
such as “television” and “monolingual”,
which mix up Greek and Latin roots. Now
they are obliged to behold gigafactories
and decacorns (private companies that
are worth over $10bn), nanoseconds and
terawatts, to say nothing of hellabytes.
These may seem ungainly, but the Helle
nophiles can console themselves that the
chimera—an unlikely combination of
lion, goat and snake—was, after all, a
Greek beast.
As the scale of science expands, so does the language of prefixes
JohnsonBeyond the gigazone
what Russia is. Producers and presenters
visit schools to try out bulletins and see
what is misunderstood. Ahead of big
events like elections, researchers do field
work to find out what children already
know (Donald Trump needed little intro
duction, they discovered).
It is tempting to protect youngsters
from bad news. Yet “children are most dis
turbed when there’s an information vacu
um”, Mr James argues. Amber Williams,
who edits the New York Times’s monthly
supplement for children, adds that they
anyway “experience all the things we as
adults try to shield them from”. When the
Times for Kidsran an interview with a survi
vor of the Parkland school shooting, the
story carried a warning. But, notes Ms Wil
liams, most American children have done
activeshooter drills since kindergarten.
Ondemand television means children
no longer need to sit through the news to
get to the cartoons, and everfewer house
holds have a newspaper lying on the kitch
en table (Ms Williams says some of her
readers get their copy passed on from
grandparents). Only about 100,000 chil
dren tune in to watch “Newsround” live.
But 2m watch each week in schools. Three
quarters of primaryschool teachers use its
bulletins in their lessons, the bbc says.
And new forms of media may be mak
ing children more politically engaged and
active. Ms Williams cites recent walkouts
in Florida schools, organised on social net
works, in protest at a proposal to limit les
sons on sexuality and gender. Wading into
sensitive subjects like this for a readership
of eight to 14yearolds isn’t easy. But the
Times article that has provokedthemost
complaints from parents, Ms Williams
says, was on “how to pick a lock”. n