​ Humans Are Weird – Misreading
“Will Human Friend Frank be joining us?” Trst’ck asked as he loaded the cards into the automatic shuffler. “I find his insight into the social rules of this game invaluable.”
“I highly doubt that Second Mechanic will be joining us,” Seventh Sister said as she arranged the glasses of recreational liquid on the surface. “When I passed his work station he was still working at full speed on the report for the Central University.”
“How odd,” Trst’ck said.
“It is hardly odd for a human to procrastinate in my experience,” Ninth Cousin offered when Seventh Sister didn’t seem inclined to comment.
“As a usual habit of the species yes,” Trst’ck observed. “However Human Friend Frank is punctual to a fault. He prepares a schedule every week and updates it daily. I have never known him to procrastinate on an important project.”
“And yet I heard him typing away at his with frantic speed,” Seventh Sister replied.
“I wonder what could have caused this,” Trst’ck mused as he dealt out the cards.
“He misread the report,” Eighty-three trills stated as the flight of Winged zipped into the room carrying small bags of the exploded grain human favored for recreational activities.
The Winged fluttered around distrubing the small bags of the light weight carbohydrate complex. The Shatar accepted theirs eagerly. Their digestive tracts were well adapted to turn the dead carbohydrates into useful energy. Trst’ck found the substance edible but more entertaining than nutritious. From what he observed of the Wingeds’ behavior they agreed, except in a much more energetic way. They were pairing off with one of the lumpy grains and tossing it back and forth in the air.
“It is time to begin playing,” Trst’ck called out as he finished dealing.
The Winged gathered in a cloud for a brief conversation as they appointed three players to land and participate in this hand. They chose three mid-ranking Winged and the rest resumed chasing the ‘popped corn’ around the higher levels of the room. Seventh Sister’s dominant eye was tilted towards the cards but her antenna were flexing with thought that clearly had very little to do with the mathematical calculations the game required. However it was Ninth Cousin who finally spoke up.
“How does a sapient species misread a document?” she asked.
“He read it too fast,” one of the Winged offered from a corner of the room.
“It failed to process,” another pipped up.
“But he did read the instructions,” Ninth Cousin protested. “By all of the Home University’s calculations human’s gain the ability to read even before their secondary sexual characteristics fully manifest. How did he read simple instructions wrong?”
“He explained it to me once,” one of the Winged said. “Some humans read more by sounding the general shape of the words than by following each tracing.”
“But writing is two dimensional to human visual resolution,” she pressed. “How do you sound a two dimensional image?”
“The shape of it,” came the answer from the other side of the room.
“But shape varies with each printing,” Ninth Cousin went on.
“It is standard for official communication,” stated one of the Winged who was currently in the middle of the complicated process of tossing one of the cards to the center of the table.
“The contours along the x and y plains are fairly easy to identify,” said the next Winged to toss a card to the pile.
“So instead of taking a few microseconds longer to properly trace the marks of a writing system he has known for decades,” Ninth Cousin asked, “he simply sounded the shapes, and as a result of the inefficiency of that method he now has to do three weeks of work in the space of one night?”
“Life is a gamble,” the Winged Commander observed.
“It really needn’t be,” Seventh Sister returned.
“I think with some humans it does,” Trst’ck said. “Now as we will not be blessed with the presence of our large mammalian friend when should one of us ‘call’?”



 Thank you all so much for your updoots and feedback. It gives me the will to go on. Want to see more? Think about becoming a Patreon. Tea refuses to buy itself and the more time one has to spend on a day job the less time there is for befuddled aliens.  

 Fives Hasn’t Done Anything Yet—The Curious Case of the Reluctant and Passive Hero of Glitch Techs

Hello! my wonderful viewers and welcome to another episode of Betty Adams over-analyzes. Today we are doing a character over-analysis and are taking a good, long look at our primary hero. You have heard, of course of the trope of the reluctant hero. Bilbo Baggins, Kuill from the Mandolorian, and every other grumpy old man who didn’t want to leave his home and accept the call of adventure. It is no surprise that Fives is a reluctant hero. It is a solid old trope and there probably should be one in every story, especially when it is offset by the extravagant adventure seeking of a hero like Miko.
However Fives is an extreme example of this, not that he has ever refused the call of adventure when it was brought to him by someone else, but he has never actively claimed adventure himself. As of Episode 9 he has never, as far as I can recall, initiated any adventure.   

This is news beyond the wildest dreams of most ecologist. A species that had trundled up to the brink of extinction, paused, and went over, formally going extinct in the wild with only a double handful of species in the zoo. Full extinction faced these gentle giants and the only thing between them and utter destruction was the sex drive of a dozen tortoises.  Into the gap steppe Deigo. After decades of loyal service the species has been declared extant and thriving. The children and grandchildren of Deigo are busily making more baby tortoises on the island free of any human interference or aid. So the hundred year old tortoise was marked with a GPS tracker, packed into a backpack, and carried to his old stomping grounds. 
While the carrying process dinged the dignity of Deigo the real giggling came from the writers and editors who covered this. This is an article full of such unadulterated joy, such perfect joy, that it must have overwhelmed even the staid and stoic editors of the BBC from the look of those headlines. 
Break out the bubbly drink a toast to the randy centurion of the Galapagos! 

 Humans are Weird – Perfectly Efficient Vectors


“We were not lost,” First Field Ranger Michael insisted as he rounded the corner with the missing Undulate geologist draped across his shoulders under a wet cloth.
A protesting hum, weak but steady was his only answer. Second Sister dropped the drone she had been unpacking back into its case and quickly called off the search and rescue operation they had been conducting. Her communications vine immediately filled with happy and curious replies which she answered with an image of the battered human striding through the amber light of the setting suns. His exposed outer membrane stood out against the twining vines of the forest in a stark contrast to their greens. His membrane itself was crossed with lacerations, marked with subcutaneous bleeding in various stages of healing, and wrapped with what she took to be the remains of his shirt that he hadn’t used to make a moisture transport for his companion. She assumed the scraps were bandages for the lacerations and punctures that even the humans’ preposterously resilient membrane couldn’t automatically heal and the fact that the human had considered it necessary to apply them spoke of the severity of the injures she couldn’t see.
“Naw,” the human was saying. “We gotta get you to the medical bay first. We can apologize for leaving the mineral samples to the rain after that.”
Second Sister gave her fill and quick brush with her fingers to bring out a red that the human would recognize as anger, flexed her lower joints so that she could stand to her full height, tightened her mandibles in that counter-intuitive sign of human firmness and did her best to stalk toward the human. Despite her best effort the human only glanced down at her with an amused grin flicking over his tired face.
Closer in she could see the dark blood pooling under his bi-focal eyes. The loose set eyeballs had retreated into his skull by millimeters. The membrane flaps that covered his teeth were actually split through in one place. The pulsing colors of his skin spoke of severe mineral depletion. How he had got into this state in just the few days he had been missing was a mystery. The hand he lifted to ward off her attention was predictable.
“I am already headed for the medical bay,” he said before she could speak.
“Excellent,” Second Sister said. “I take it you are going to stay there once you arrive?”
“Well they have to see to Twisty first,” the human said with a shrug that moved the leading and lagging ends of the Undulate up and down.
“Report to the medical bay and stay there,” Second Sister said. “That is a direct order.”
Michael winced and glanced to the side even as he muttered his acceptance of the order.
“What happened?” she demanded. “We lost satellite contact with the transport four days ago.”
“We were skimming over the surface of the forest,” the human indicated the tangle of vines. “Headed for the final volcano you know. The one we couldn’t reach by the road. I’d had to override the governor to get the transport up and over the tops of the vines. So the repulsor coils were exposed. Then we passed over an oddly colored section of vines and the started throwing up these weird silvery-white things like levers but long enough to whack the bottom of the transport. I was going to pull up but then we went down. They must have been conductive of gravitons or something because they took the repulsor right out. So we left the samples there and I hoofed it back to base. What’s all the fuss about?”
The last question came as they entered the man transport bay of the satellite University. Every usable transport was either missing or in some state of loading or unloading. On the human’s entry there was a general rush of movement towards him and several flights of Winged, a handful of Undulates, and three Trisk darted forward with joyful sounds to greet their missing companions. Second Sister leapt in front of him and flared her frill.
“He is going to the medical bay and no on will touch him until he is there!” she snapped.
Great Mother knew how distractable the human was. If he started answering questions he would never arrive. She realized her mistake as they began to move. The Winged simply hovered a meter or so in a sphere around the human.
“How did you get so lost Human Friend Michael?” came one question.
“I wasn’t lost!” the human insisted rolling his eyes.
“But you lost your transport and mobile location devices don’t work in the forest!” another voice pointed out.
“You were less than forty kilometers from the base,” pipped up another. “You are clearly not injured badly enough to slow you down.”
“Once you found the road that’s barely a day’s walk for you,” came another voice.
“You must have gotten lost!”
“Hey!” the human exclaimed as they paused in the UV decontamination chamber. “I’m here ain’t I?”
“You are here,” Second Sister agreed. “Now continue moving towards the medical bay.”
“I got back under my own power,” the human went on as the inner doors opened. “The whole time I knew how to get where I was going. There wasn’t a moment where I was at a loss for where to go. That isn’t lost!”
“Then why did it take you five times the amount of time to traverse relatively flat terrain?” another Winged asked.
“Those vines form thick tangles,” the human said. “I had to go around a lot.”
“That might have doubled your travel distance,” on Winged said, “not quintupled it.”
“Vector derivation takes more time for two legged mammals than you folks with wings,” the human replied.
“Not that much more time!” insisted another voice.
“Look,” the human said as they neared the medical bay were Fifth Sister and Fourth Cousin were waiting with a trauma tank for the Undulate, “I wasn’t lost. I was just confused about direction for a bit. So I ended up taking a few less than perfectly efficient vectors.”
He stopped talking long enough to tenderly ease the stressed Undulate down into the tank revealing the odd pattern where the Undulate and the cloth covering had protected his skin but left overlapping patterns of bruises where the Undulate had gripped him too hard. Second Sister and Fifth Sister latched onto his wrists to guide him towards his bed.
“I was never lost!” he insisted once more over his shoulder.  

 Thank you all so much for your updoots and feedback. It gives me the will to go on. Want to see more? Think about becoming a Patreon.  Tea refuses to buy itself and the more time one has to spend on a day job the less time there is for befuddled aliens.  

Butter Bar, the New Kitten settles in and begins training. 

 Five Terrifying and Fantastic Glitch Techs Theories - Bailey is an Odd Little City Odd and Dangerous


Hello my wonderful viewers and welcome to another episode of Betty Adams over analyzes. Today I am going to review a few of the smaller theories that I’ve come across in the first episodes of Glitch Techs. Most of them are based on what appear to be throw away lines or visual cues. None of them have proved worth a full video but they are all worth mentioning. So let’s jump right in.

​ Humans are Weird – Empty Your Pockets


Fifth Sister was sorting the various bandage volumes when Forty-three Trills flew into the medical ward and landed on a shelf above her with an exaggerated sigh. As he didn’t signal for her attention she continued slipping the tubes into their assigned slot.
It was very useful she mused. That the liquid bandages were so versatile. Save for a few rare humans with overactive immune systems the carbohydrate mix was an excellent source of protection for most injured membranes. She had just finished slotting the plain tubes into the storage area and had begun to arrange the nutrient additions by target species when Forty-three Trills emitted another loud sigh and flung himself chest down across the shelf so that his head was in her view, but as his binocular eyes were pointed at the comparative anatomy chart on the wall she continued her task. When he flipped over on his back and proceeded to emit another sigh she closed the cabinet and turned her center of mass to face him.
“Can I help you with something Forty-three Trills?” She asked.
He gave another sigh and flipped over, crossing his winghooks under his chin and staring at her with what she assumed was a sad expression.
“Do Shatar have built in transport pouches?” he asked in a tone that was noticeably too high for the human staff to hear.
“In our environmental suits of course,” she replied. “However in our daily clothing we only wear a wrap to cover our reproductive core and there is not sufficient structural integrity to support transport pouches. So, no.”
She did not inform him that most Shatar made the choice to avoid the stronger wraps for the explicit purpose of keeping Winged and Trisk from asking for transport. Pointing out his species’s general rudeness wasn’t something to do when a patient was obviously emotionally depressed.
“You probably wouldn’t understand then,” the Winged said, rolling over on his back with another sigh.
“Are you emotionally distressed Forty-three Trills?” she asked.
It was obvious that he was, but she had found that illustrating her own ignorance was usually the best way to get an alien talking about a sensitive subject.
“A wings thickness,” he admitted as he began to gloomily groom his sensory horns.
“Would you like to inform me of the reason?” Fifth Sister asked.
“I think one of the humans is angry with me,” Forty-three trills said.
“What do you base this observation on?” she asked. “Has the human behaved aggressively towards you?”
“No,” the Winged went on in a sad tone. “He just blocked me.”
The Shatar was confused and covered it by flicking her dabber out to clean her eyes quickly.
“He prevented you from accessing his non-emergency communications account?” she asked.
“No,” the Winged went on. “He physically blocked me.”
The Shatar strained to bring the lines together.
“I do not understand,” she said.
The Winged gave a long drawn-out sigh that expanded him to nearly half again his size and flopped over a few times to arrange his wings.
“Over the course of the past few weeks he has been filling his pelvic transport pouches with various small items,” the Winged explained. “It was interesting at first. Then it was awkward. Today it reached the point that I could no longer fit inside with all of the collected items. It is fairly clear that he is upset with me for something I have done to offend him.”
The Winged suddenly leapt up and began darting around the room chittering in distress. The Shatar watched him in concern for a time, tilting her triangular head from side to side to keep him in her field of vision. Meanwhile she had her fingers busily with her data pad, pulling up one of the psychological files on humans she recalled from her training. When he had burned off enough of his distress he fluttered back to the shelf.
“I just wish I knew what I had done to offend him,” he said with a tired little chirp. “You know how important social presence is to us winged and with only a wings worth on the base, and none of us from the same flight, human transport pouches are just about the closest thing to home we have.”
“Are you quite certain that this behavior has anything to do with you or your behavior?” she asked.
“What else could it be?” the Winged demanded. “Nothing has changed on the base environment to alter his behavior.”
“Save that he has been the only human on the base for some time since the geological expedition left for the northern hemisphere,” Fifth Sister said. “Perhaps this might be a symptom of his hording instinct activating due to the stress of isolation. I have heard of such things.”
“Do you think?” the Winged asked, perking up immediately.
“I think it would be best if you opened a line of communication directly with him,” Fifth Sister stated firmly. “However I have heard of this process of slowly filling your pockets with the accumulation of interesting objects you find during the day.”
“It does appear to be a collection of shiny things,” Forty-three Trills observed. “It is mostly broken bolts and scraps of the reflective covers. Humans do have an odd affinity for shiny things.”
“That is common in species that depend on open water for hydration,” she affirmed. “However my literature suggest that such a manifestation of this was limited to children. If it is the same respons it seems to be inadvertent and he might respond to a simple question.”
Forty-three Trills nodded slowly even as his kinetics became more energetic as his mood rose.
“I will ask him,” he said. “Thank you for the analysis Fifth Sister.”
She flicked her frill in acknowledgment and resumed sorting the additives as the Winged left the room. She did not choose to share the information with the Winged but reversion to childhood behaviors was often a sign of stress. She wondered if the human required the medically recommended application of snuggles and who on the base would be the best to provide them.  

 Where, Who, and What is Fives’s Father? – A Dark Disturbing Glitch Techs Theory That I Had to Share​

Hello my wonderful viewers and welcome to another episode of Betty Adams Theorizes, and do we have a wonderful theory today. It is in fact my favorite kind of theory, a Schrodinger’s theory. At the time of the creation of this video the second season has yet to drop, so the theory may or may not be confirmed leaving it in that wonderful state of the box still closed, we don’t know if the vial has broken, until the next episode drop the theory is both true and untrue. The theory sounds absolutely absurd on the surface, but when you look below the surface there is quite a few points to support it. The theory fits the tone and flow of Glitch Techs perfectly but will take in on a wild new plot twist.
Now there will be massive spoilers for season one so leave now if you don’t want to dig deep and examine every facet of the reasoning for my new pet theory!
Go! Shoo!
So anywhooo!
Who is Fives Mysterious father? Who is Nieves Jr.? Son of Papi Nieves and Abuela Nieves? Who is he and where is he?
So here is the theory. Alpha is Fives’s missing father.