The indigenous creatures of Embassytown — an outpost of the human diaspora somewhere/somewhen in the space-time imagined by China Miéville — communicate via the Language. Despite requiring two coordinated sound sources to be spoken, the Language does not have the capacity to express any duplicitous thought: Every message, in order to be perceived as part of the Language, must correspond to a physical reality. A spoken message is hence merely a link to an existing object, and it ceases being recognized as a message when the linked object is no longer in existence.
As Miéville describes it: “… each word of Language, sound isomorphic with some Real: not a thought, not really, only self-expressed worldness […] Language had always been redundant: it had only ever been the world.”
The Language upends Shannon’s premise that the semantic aspects of communication are irrelevant to the problem of transferring and storing information. In the Language, recorded sounds, untied to the state of the mind that produced them, do not carry any information. In a reversal of Shannon’s framework, information is thus inextricably linked to its meaning, and preserving information requires the maintenance of the physical object that embodies its semantics.
When message and meaning are one and the same as in the Language, information cannot be represented in any format other than in its original expression; Shannon’s information theory ceases to be applicable; and information becomes analog, irreproducible, and intrinsically physical. (And, as the events in the novel show, interactions with the human language may lead to some dramatic unforeseen consequences.)