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He teaches it to a teenage boy so that it has at least one other speaker. The episode shows a person who, having no language that feels fully his own, builds one from scratch and discovers how little room even a language of two leaves for freedom.
A language nobody else speaks cannot be censored, confiscated or bent by a regime, which is why it attracts people fleeing linguistic domination. That same protection cuts its speaker off, because meaning that no one can receive is not communication, and the refuge becomes a cell. The fate of a small national language under imperial pressure follows the same arc: the fewer its speakers, the safer it is from capture and the closer it is to silence.
Domination of a smaller nation's language rarely needs outright prohibition. It works by making the language socially useless, marked as provincial, and professionally costly, so speakers drop it themselves and treat the loss as their own choice. By the time open annexation comes, as in the novel's 2049 Russian Reich absorbing Belarus, the linguistic ground has already been surrendered.
Look at a nation as a body of shared words and stories rather than as territory or a state. On that view it can outlive political annexation by continuing underground, in exile, or in imagined and virtual spaces, as long as someone still reads and speaks it. This explains why regimes target books and languages as seriously as armies, and why the novel itself was declared 'extremist' and banned in Belarus in 2022.