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.  

 Karate Trainer–It Ends As It Began With What On Earth Am I Watching–Glitch Techs Season 1 Episode 9


Hello my wonderful viewers and welcome to another episode of Betty Adams over-analyzes. Today we are looking at Glitch Techs Season 1 Episode 9 or 10. Hmmm, I actually think I’m finally over being irritated at the odd numbering order. Anyhow, Karate Trainer. Above all this one perplexed me. It is utterly beautiful artistically, there is the same awesome character building that we got in the previous episodes, there are a few subtle hints about the bigger picture dropped, but for some reason it didn’t grip me like the other episodes had. It was like the show stopped and took a long breath on the arduous trail up Mount Mystery. Which actually makes sense as this is the half way point in the original 20 episode first season. The oddly flat feeling for a season finale might be a result of a Nick show being parceled up for Netflix release schedules.

   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 – Free Stuff


“So far there has been no sign of hormonal shifts,” Seventeenth Sister was saying to the display screen.
Her antenna twitched as she heard the rumbling of the heavy-haul coming in. She rippled her frill in a request for silent patience as she considered. It would be the mated pair of physicists returning from the personnel errand they had requested the wheeled heavy-haul for. It felt wrong, almost deceitful, but the pair were know to be very strict about such things. She quickly adjusted the screen settings to a range a human couldn’t see and deliberately let her voice slip into the high range of soothing clicks of the mother language.
“Why are we conversing like this?” Third Mother asked, tilting her broad triangular head to the side, revealing the flaking of age behind her eyes.
“There are humans coming in from outside,” Seventeenth Sister replied.
“And we do not wish them to know about your suspected hormonal condition?” Third Mother said, her worn mandibles clicking tightly in disappointment.
Seventeenth Sister braced her own mandibles to resist snapping at her First Mother’s Third Sister. The situation, like most involving human was complex.
“I don’t mind them hearing,” she explained patiently. “I have actually spoken of this with the First Physicist before, but humans have rather strict rules about overhearing personnel medical information. If I do not give them explicit permission to participate in the conversation they will inconvenience themselves to preposterous extents to avoid overhearing what we are discussing.”
“Why do you not explicitly invite them them?” Third Mother asked.
“You know how the sexual dynamic is so...different with them?” Seventeenth Sister asked.
“They are a balanced species,” Third Mother acknowledged with a dip of her head.
“It’s more than that,” Seventeenth Sister expanded, flicking her frill in confusion. “There is a completely different set of rules for what bio-medical data you can discuss with the females and the males. It would be different if they were biologists but as they are theoretical mathematicians they don’t have any training to overcome their biological anti-parasite coding.”
Third Mother stared at her tilting her head slowly from side to side as she tried to get her antennas into that.
“What,” she finally asked, “does their branch of science have to do with the anti-code training they receive?”
“I don’t know,” Seventeenth Sister clicked in a hollow tone. “But as I was saying I think we have to face the reality that I am probably a sterile-”
“There is no proof yet,” Third Mother interrupted. “My own Seventeenth Sister had two buds-”
“A statistical anomaly,” Seventeenth Sister said with a dismissive wave. “We both know that past the Twelfth there is no guarantee that any sisters will reach hormonal maturity. I think-”
“Ach Seventeenth Sister! How long ya gonna be on that space phone?” came a loud voice.
Seventeenth Sister curled her antenna in annoyance and rippled her frill in apology to Third Mother. Third Mother gave a chitter of amusement in reply. She had heard the stories of the humans after all.
“I will be on some time,” Seventeenth Sister replied, tilting her head to direct one faceted eye towards the male half of the pair of physicists. “We are discussing my reproductive capacity.”
She indicated for Third Mother to watch his reaction and the human did not disappoint. He stuttered a bit and probably would have slunk out of the room if he had not been clearly uplifted by some triumphant joy.
“What is he so pleased about?” Third Mother asked. “Would it be rude to ask him to share his joy?”
“Not in the least,” Seventeenth Sister replied, before lowering the tone of her voice back into the human auditory range.
“Was your, you called it a Viking Raid, successful Second Physicist?” she asked.
“Aye and it was!” he said, the discomfort fleeing from his face. “We were able to get there before they sent in the bio-mashers and pulled out a ton of free lumber! More than enough to finish the project for the little woman!”
“What will you do with the excess?” Seventeenth Sister asked.
“Oh,” the human waved a hand dismissively. “Build a wee shed and store it till we need it for something or the other.”
The female human burst into the room and flashed her bony mandible protuberances at Seventeenth Sister.
“Aye an’ you’ll be off the phone in a bit?” she asked.
“Not for some time,” Seventeenth Sister replied.
“Well we can wait,” the male human said with a nod. “It’s not time sensitive after all and we need to unload the wood.”
“Who are you going to communicate with?” Seventeenth Sister asked, seeing Third Mother’s curiosity in the colors of her frill.
“My Da’,” the human female replied. “Just want to tell him about our haul out there.”
“Did your ancestors proud catching wind of that decommissioned private base,” the male confirmed. “Da’ll be pleased as punch.”
“Let’s get that free wood unloaded,” the female instructed and the two humans were about to leave.
“A moment,” Seventeeth Sister interjected.
“Ya’?” the humans turned to look at her curiously.
“You did not call your First Father when your last theory was confirmed by the team of the Gathering in the next system,” Seventeeth Sister observed.
“Space calls are expensive,” one human said with a shrug. “We just told them in the scheduled one a few days later.”
“You did not call them when your experiment was approved by the central university,” Seventeenth Sister observed again.
“Expensive,” the male repeated with a shrug.
“If I understand the situation,” Seventeenth Sister said slowly. “You value the processed tree fibers because you were able to get them for free. Now you want to spend a significant amount to call your First Father to boast of this free wood.”
“That’s the idea,” the female human replied with a grin.
“You did your ancestors proud,” the male said with a grin, reaching out and dropping an arm around his mate’s shoulders. “Da’ needs to know about this. Let us know when the space phone’s free Seventeen.”
The two walked out, still linked at the shoulders and Third Mother clicked and hissed at the adorable behavior, but there was still a perplexed set to her antenna.
“How can two math mathematicians be so, inefficient?” she asked.
“I don’t know Third Mother,” Seventeenth Sister replied. “I just don’t know."


 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.