Humans are Weird – Wheelbarrows


The light was beginning to shift down into the soft,mid range oranges of evening by the time the mound of dirt was anywhere near flat. Third Sister shook out her frill in an attempt to dislodge the dust and grime that had collected there. She resisted the urge to lick off a particularly clingy bit of dirt in public and tried to focus on how the rest of the crew was coming along. The flight of Winged was circling the dig site taking readings. They were clearly flagging however. Only half of the flight members were maintaining the suggested elevation and the rest were exposing their teeth in a way that suggested they were about to forfeit their natural herbivore natures to start biting chunks out of the humans. The humans too were beginning to lag. Despite sensibly traveling along the ground they had been moving large ammounts of dirt with nothing but the simple levers and wheels that seemed to make up the base tool set of every network of humans no matter what their stated profession was.


“Third Sister?” Seventeen Trills fluttered over to her side and hovered there, not looking directly at her.
Third Sister was well aware that their sensory horns gave them essentially full circle awareness that was more accurate than simple sight but she still couldn’t help feeling a prickle of annoyance at apparently being ignored even as he requested her attention. She clicked a response in Mother out of irritation. At least the pesky little Hellbats could hear a reasonable range of sound.
“I think it might be time to rest our wings,” Seventeen Trills observed.
“I too have noticed that the extended physical labor has effected flight efficiency,” she noted. “I agree with your judgment.”
He snapped his beady black eyes around at her.
“Oh it’s not us I’m concerned about,” he said. “It’s the humans.”
“Why do you think that?” Third Sister asked, suddenly genuinely curious.
Ever since their first interactions the Winged had integrated the humans into their mythos as paragons of physical strength. She could not count the number of problems that arose medically because some Winged commander believed his humans to be near indestructible, and the humans were oddly loath to dissuade this idea. For a commander as inexperienced as Seventeen Trills to recognize human frailty in any form was something worth noting. However he seemed reluctant to speak. Another oddity that. He finally just gestured for her to follow him with his wing hook and led her around the corner of the structure they were erecting.
She saw what he was observing immediately. One of the larger humans, a Third Brother, if she remembered correctly was stopped dead in his tracks with the single-wheel mass transporter full of dirt and detritus blocking the main path. His head was tilted to the side and he was staring down at the handles of the device with a fascinated expression on his face. More importantly his skin was flushed with the pulsing of vessels trying to expel the excess mammalian heat of his body. His skin was venting copious amounts of water in an effort to evaporate away the energy.
“Third Brother?” She asked carefully as she approached him. “Are you well?”
To her growing concern he didn’t respond.
“Ranger!” Seventeen Trills snapped out. “What are you looking at?”
The human responded to that by raising his eyes to them, however the twin points didn’t focus on either of them.
“Isn’t it amazing?” he asked in a hushed tone.
“Isn’t what amazing?” Third Sister asked.
“The material sciences have advanced,” the Third Brother said with slow words, “but the basic design of the wheelbarrow has not changed in thousand of years!”
His gaze drifted over and past her frill before focusing on what the humans called the middle distance.
“Thousands!” he whispered, using only his breath to enunciated the sounds in hushed awe. “This is the same thing that our ancestors might have used thousands of years ago.”
Her frill snapped rigid with concern and Third Sister carefully stepped forward to touch the hot skin of the humans arm. Seventeen Trills fluttered around her giving out little distressed chirps of confusion.
“Do you need a nap Third Brother?” Third Sister asked in the softest tone her voice was capable of producing.
He slowly swiveled his head to face her and blinked.
“I think…” he said carefully. “I think maybe yes?”
“Seventeen Trills,” Third Sister said. “Call an end to the work day and please have the least tired of your wing escort the humans home.”
The human in front of them lifted the wheelbarrows handles and began pushing towards the transport before stopping and looking back at them with wonder in his eyes.
“I didn’t,” he began. “I mean I never experimented much as a kid you know? Is this what it’s like to be high?”
Third Sister stared at him in bewilderment until he smiled and started back up the path.  

 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.  

So I got this in my inbox today.....

Hey Betty,
 
I was searching some article in the “Coating and Polymer Industry” and I came across your page: - (http://www.authorbettyadams.com/bettys-blog/humans-are-weird-rituals)
I’d say the article is a complete resource.
Just to let you know that your audience searching about the “Carbon Black” might be looking for the Technical datasheet available for download.
These datasheets can be accessible without any cost so no commercial value.
So, I recommended adding “suspicious external link" which could further help your audience.
Let me know if you need any further help
Cheers,
Paul

I’d say the article is a complete resource.
I’d say the article is a complete resource.
I’d say the article is a complete resource.

Well then. I'm flattered that my silly little science fiction story about human absurdity is "a complete resource". 

But dang, that is a pretty convincing bot. I am only protected by the complete absurdity of my content, and only warned by the fact that the sender was not horrified by the concept....

 Humans are Weird – Headlines


Second Sister was nearly to her quarters when Twenty-Five Clicks came darting around the curve of the corridor followed by his entire flight. They were all chattering to each other in their high-pitched language that pinged off her frill and set the tips of her antenna tingling unpleasantly. She suppressed a compression and stepped to the side of the corridor, hoping that their agitation had nothing to do with her.
“Doctor!” Twenty-Five Clicks called out, barely bringing his voice down into a polite range.
Second Sister sighed and laid her frill in a neutral flatness even if she couldn’t quite control the tight curl of her antenna. The Winged were so very impolite. But she had a job to do if they were using her work title instead of her name. She cast a single longing thought towards her comfortable perch in her chambers and then turned her attention to the approaching flight.
“Base commander,” she greeted the Winged.
The thirty-odd little mammals spent a moment vying for the few surfaces on her body where they could perch and then the rest settled for clinging to the walls. They were still chattering worriedly among themselves but now their eyes were focused on their wing leader. Twenty-Five Clicks was clearly taking a moment to compose himself by grooming his sensory horns with his winghooks. Second Sister waited for him to finish with what she hoped was patience. He finally looked up into one of her eyes and took a deep breath. He pointed one wing towards the communal work space.
“Human Friend Pierce,” he finally managed to say.
Second Sister fought the urge to extend her frill and simply began walking in the indicated direction. She should have known it would take some form of human madness to set the Winged to such frantic flight.
“What precisely is the matter with Human Friend Pierce?” she asked.
The Undulate naming system that the Winged had adapted felt sticky on her mandibles, but she knew calling First Brother by his proper name would only confuse the flight of Winged further. They were currently following her by hoping along the catwalks that lined the higher levels of the walls, avoiding flight in order to stay calm and focused. Finally one, presumable the flight medic, managed to speak.
“He has taken severe outer membrane damage,” the medic said.
Second Sister tilted her head at him sharply.
“What wasn’t this called in as a medical emergency?” She asked.
“He insisted he was fine,” Twenty-Five Clicks interjected. “And he is not listed as a stupidly stubborn human in his records. We decided to get you to come analyzed the damage before we set the alarms ringing.”
“Reasonable,” Second Sister agreed as she paced along. “Humans are famous for being able to take damage to their outer membranes.”
“Yes,” the flight medic agreed. “They are covered in that forest of micro-fauna that protects them.”
“And they have that massive layer of fat under it all too,” another pointed out.
“Landers,” Twenty-Five Clicks said in a grumbling tone.
“Is there something you are hiding from me?” Second Sister finally asked bluntly.
Tellingly the entire flight fell silent as they approached the door to the communal work area. They glanced back and forth at each other, using their narrow binocular vision to avoid her broad gaze. Finally the medic spoke up.
“We have speculation that we do not wish to share,” he explained, “as it is all but baseless.”
“I would appreciate it,” Second Sister said curtly.
“Well,” the medic squirmed from his perch on her primary joint. “The damage seems to be a reversed image of Undulate text. It appears random-”
“But you fear that he may have deliberately applied the damage to himself,” Second Sister concluded. “That it is some form of ritual scarification?”
An uncomfortable murmur spread through the flight and Twenty-Five Clicks fluffed himself out in indignation.
“Human Friend Pierce is an exemplary Ranger,” he snapped. “He would not waste time on personal decoration of any sort while on duty.”
“And this occurred while he was on duty?” Second Sister asked.
“Yes,” the medic hurriedly interjected. “He went into the tactile isolation console to work on his Undulate translation and had the damage when he came out.”
“I thought he was doing field work today?” Second Sister asked.
“He had a bad night,” Twenty-Five clicks explained. “Something to do with digestion and that new plant protein he tried yesterday, and he didn’t feel that he was competent to maneuver the transport safely. So he decided to work on his training.”
Second Sister clicked thoughtfully to herself as she opened the door. First Brother was at the far side of the large open space sipping a cup of the common human stimulant. He was slumping against the counter in that nearly Undulate way humans had when they were extremely tired. She eyed him critically.
“Where exactly is this damage?” She asked the Winged.
“Right on his face,” Twenty-Five Clicks said. “The wide fleshy part.”
Second Sister gave a confused click and paced forward to get closer to the human. She heard a chatter of confusion start up among the Winged as they approached the human and the sound seemed to catch his notice. He lifted his head and blinked at them slowly.
“Second Sis,” he greeted her before letting his oral cavity gape in an attempt to draw in more oxygen.
“First Brother,” she replied with a polite tilt of her head.
He returned the gesture, causing the light to fall over one side of his face and she suddenly saw the damage the Winged had seen. There were indeed many reversed lines of the sprawling Undulate language imprinted on his epidermis.
“It was way worse!” one of the Winged above her insisted.
“What was worse lil guy?” First Brother asked, squinting up at him.
“Your face,” Second Sister informed him.
He stared blankly at her and she reached up to grasp his chin with one hand, turning his face to examine the damage. His eyes tracked hers in that rolling, disconcerted way humans did for a few seconds until he burst out laughing.
“Something’s wrong with my face?” he asked.
“You have taken damage,” she replied. “It looks like pressure damage.”
The human gave one of those deep lunged grunts that only his giant mammalian lungs could produce and easily pulled his chin out of her grasp. He turned to the reflective surface of the nutrient warming device and titled his head to get a look at the fading marks.
“Ah,” he said, “I fell asleep while practicing Undulate touch writing. The reversed grooves must have left these marks.”
“Do they pose any danger to you?” Second Sister asked.
“Nah,” the human dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. “S’like corduroy line or whatnot.”
“That give me no relevant information,” Second Sister pointed out.
First Brother stared at her with blank, unfocused eyes for several long moments, giving Second Sister plentiful time to assess the situation. The Winged were still disturbed and the human was clearly not operating at full mental capacity.
“First Brother,” she said firmly. “It is my opinion as the base medic that you should spend the rest of the day resting in your quarters.”
“But,” whatever First Brother was about to say in protest was lost in a massive yawn that seemed to stretch out his spine and curl his entire body in odd directions.
“Maybe you got a point,” he said when the yawn was done. “I’ll get back to bed.”
“And this flight will escort you,” Second Sister said quickly.
“Sure, sure,” First Brother said, holding out his hands invitingly as he shuffled towards the door.
The Winged followed their Human Friend Pierce eagerly, abandoning Second Sister to the blissful silence of the now empty work space. If she hurried she might be able to make it back to her perch before there was another medical oddity.  

 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.  

 Humans are Weird – Questionable Substances


“The time has come,” Fifth Sister said in a flat tone.
“The time had come to do what now?” Skr’ttx asked her after the traditional six seconds of silence.
The towering Shartar flicked her antenna and neck frill in a sort of joint show of irritation and smugness.
“Central University has requested a justification for the orders you have been labeling ‘human nutrition supplements’.” She informed him.
Skr’ttx felt all eight of his appendages tighten under him as the full implications of her words sunk in. Thankfully she gave him plenty of time to mull over his response. They had been debating the wisdom of his actions, central cluster, they had been debating the morality of his actions, for local months. There was not doubt it got results. No other work crew in the sector had anything near his level of efficiency. The humans were careful too. They never over indulged to the detriment of their bodies or minds. At least not that the base medic could detect. That was the only thing that had kept Fifth Sister from plucking him about this. Still, the fact that it increased their participate to the extent that it did seemed to indicate-
“I do not wish to be rude,” Fifth Sister finally said waving the data pad in her hand.
“Of course, of course,” Skr’ttx said, uncurling his motile legs and turning off his computer.
“Shall I carry you to the conference room?” Fifth Sister asked.
“I think I need the walk,” Skr’ttx said. “I can make good time on the catwalks.”
Fifth Sister flicked her antenna in acknowledgment and left the room. Skr’ttx took just a moment to groom his eye hairs to steady himself and set out at a purposeful skitter toward the conference rooms. He found the inter-Universtiy comm hub waiting for him. Humming with the power it took to maintain instant communication across interstellar spaces. He idly, and fondly remember a time with this sort of thing was handled by recording and couriers. Life was just so much easier when you really had time to think about your responses. He stepped up to the station and tapped the screen to list himself present. The holo-display grew gracefully to life, showing the Undulate who was the current head of the University ethics board.
“Trisk Acquaintance Skr’ttx,” the Undulate greeted him formally, “I am called Plodsalong.”
Skr’ttx felt an odd wash of conflicting emotions as he took the full six seconds to process that. The fact that Plodsalong had a human granted name, and that couldn’t be anything else, was a good omen. It meant that he had dealt with humans and their particular brand of madness before. However the implications about his methods were not promising.
“Greetings,” Skr’ttx replied. “Am I to assume I am under investigation?”
“Waves no,” Plodsalong said. “It is far to early for a formal investigation.”
Skr’ttx felt oddly uneasy about that.
“No,” Plodsalong said slowly. “I simply want to understand the situation. You sound, over the past several months you have ordered several crates of class seven processed bio-chemical under the guise of ‘human nutrition supplements’. Is this true?”
Skr’ttx watched the Undulate wave his reading appendage over what must be a data pad just out of sight and fought the urge to squirm like a hatchling.
“It is true that I offer the items to the humans as a nutrient supplement,” he agreed. “They choose to eat them at their own discretion in addition to their usual nutrient intake.”
The Undulate raised several appendages as if he were examining Skr’ttx more closely over the link as he pondered the situation.
“Are the humans unable to order the items on their own?” he asked.
“Nothing prevents them from doing so,” Skr’ttx was able to answer quickly.
After all, he had pondered that very question nearly every time one of the humans had come up to his canister with eager hand extended and bright, bifocal eyes focused on the item in question with the predatory look that was so terrifying.
“Why?” Plodsalong asked carefully. “Do you think it appropriate for you to distribute these supplements? You are not rated as a nutritionist.”
“I am not,” Skr’ttx agreed. “But while it is a class seven substance. It is also conditionally listed as human exempt. The reasons are beyond me but the humans on base assure me that it is harmless in the doses that I administer it.”
“That is in question in the xeno-medical labs as we speak,” Plodsalong said. “However that is not an answer to my question. Why? Why did you feel the need to administer the substance at all.”
Skr’ttx shifted his paws uneasily on the floor before he braced himself and answered.
“Workplace efficiency,” he said quietly.
“How exactly does this substance improve workplace efficiency?” asked the Undulated.
“Well, you see,” Skr’ttx said slowly. “You know that I have a very tight schedule. The gravitational phenomenon I measure happen with very little warning, and each set has little time in between them, and the different pulses require a complete physical repositioning of the sensors. The sensors are large and heavy and only the humans can really move them effectively.”
“That is the justification you used for requisitioning such a large crew of technicians,” Plodsalong said.
“Well they were,” Skr’ttx waved his gripping pads in an Undulate intensifier, “being very inefficient.”
“To the point that you were failing to get readings,” the Undulate sent a wave of understanding down his length.
“Yes,” Skr’ttx replied. “They were showing up and doing the work but it was as if each had calculated the bare minimum amount of effort necessary to retain their position and was only preforming that.”
“And I sound that you addressed the issue on several occasions,” the Undulate dropped his reading appendages over the data pad as he, presumably, examined the records of those encounters.
“Yes!” Skr’ttx couldn’t help skittering sideways in irritation. “Each time had the same result. The human would acknowledge their fault, apologize, and the next work session would show a brief period of improvement before they would slump back to the previous level of inaction.”
He paused and the holo of the Undulate only lifted an appendage at him expectantly.
“So I asked the crew-lead what I should do,” Skr’ttx. “She explained to me that they all were under the effect of something called senioritis. It is complicated but the basic concept is that the majority of them only have a few months of service left on their contracts before they return to their home colonies. The link between the effort they put into their work and any reward they will get has been essentially severed. So they have no immediate motivation to exert more than the required effort.”
“And the entire crew suffers from this, senioritis?” the Undulate asked.
“Not directly,” Skr’ttx said, “but the attitude of the majority affects even the less experienced humans.”
“Have you thought about exchanging the crew for humans with more time on their contracts?” Plodsalong asked.
“None of them have the experience the activity requires,” Skr’ttx said.
The Undulate hummed thoughtfully for a few moments.
“As fascinating as this all it,” Plodsalong said slowly, “it still does not explain the substance.”
“The crew-lead shared a human method of coping with this,” Skr’ttx said. “She said that if I was proactive I could combat the senioritis by applying small rewards for discreet acts of efficiency and displays of proactive problem solving. She suggested this substance as the one most likely to be universally acceptable to the human digestive system and universally palatable to human taste. I have found her assessment accurate.”
“So every time a human preforms their duties above a mediocre level you would reward them with one unit of this substance?” Plodsalong asked. “And it has improved efficiency?”
“We now have a surplus of data,” Skr’ttx confirmed. “If this continues at the current rate we will be finished ahead of schedule.”
They both fell silent and pondered the situation. It wasn’t as if Skr’ttx didn’t understand the Undulate’s concerns. He worried over the ethics of the situation constantly. But the humans were happy. They responded well to the stimulus. And they wouldn’t produce and sell something inherently harmful would they?
“As the product is not yet illicit I cannot take any action on the matter.” Plodsalong finally said. “However I expect you to monitor the health of your crew closely.”
Skr’ttx danced sideways in relieved acknowledgment. The conversation closed and he headed for the large space they had chosen to set up the sensor equipment. He stopped by his quarters to pick up the grav-cart he used to transport the substance. He paused to brush his paws over his head hairs in exasperation as he examined the brightly colored cannister the substance was dispensed from. How could such a simple thing cause so much stress? He padded the side of the cart lightly to activate it and it hummed to life and hovered a paw’s breadth over the floor. The lettering on the side of the canister gleamed in the bright lights of the hallway.
“Old Fashioned Hard Candy.” “Made from only the finest organic cane sugar.”  




 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.