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Humans are Weird - Dirty

8/27/2024

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Humans are Weird - Dirty

Notes the Passing Changes gingerly eased the longer stick up, out of the fermented mass of detritus and foreign fungus and bacteria. The nearly dormant domestic culture on the stick immediately began to revive, sending delighted signals up tendrils to Notes the Passing Changes’s local focal nodes. A sense of satisfaction washed through the network as the stick was carefully placed in a balance of fading sunlight and long evening shadow. However the reaction was slower now, almost sluggish and Notes the Passing Changes decided to let the situation rest for the night.

Sandy’s efforts, his singular efforts unaided by any of the other sapients in the colony, to shift the worst of the mass of fermenting biomass had already worked wonders for Notes the Passing Changes’s clarity of thought and clearness of observation in not only this sector of the forest but throughout the local network. The mid-winter floods had been numerous, laying down layer after layer of oxygen poor silt over a critical tendril junction, and the busy spring had prevented the local motile sapients from having the time or energy to shift the mass. Finally Sandy, noting some sign of distress in Notes the Passing Changes had simply gathered a few lever based hand tools and had spent a long day in the forest wet-lands, moving biomass at Notes the Passing Changes directions. Eventually Pat had arrived to order her mate back to their dwelling place for a ‘shower’, food, and rest, but the results were by then more than sufficient for Notes the Passing Changes to continue alone. Satisfied that the local micro-fauna would continue the healing work over the night Notes the Passing Changes shifted awareness focal points to the deadwood dwelling that housed Pat and Sandy.
Notes the Passing Changes politely knocked in the walls to announce the presence of another sapient awareness in the house and tapped into the visual sensors on the houseplant they kept for just such use. Sandy had mumbled a greeting, giving an auditory clue and allowing Notes the Passing Changes to angle the leaves of the plant to observe the human.
Sandy was wearing only a thin layer around his core trunk and was sprawled over the blocky couches humans preferred, holding a cold canister of fluid in one hand. The human did not turn his head to address the communications plant as usual buy only stared at an empty space on the far wall. He was still expressing significant amounts of carbon dioxide, which the plant appreciated, and his thermal image glowed with the low grade injury indicators of successful exercise. His outer membrane however, appeared to be somewhat vasoconstricted, possibly due to a habit of his called a cold shower where he exposed himself to water below the comfort level of a mammal of his size for mysterious health reasons. As Notes the Passing Changes observed the human gave a violent twitch, rubbed a hand over his face and took a small volume drink from the canister.
“I wished to thank you for your assistance today,” Notes the Passing Changes stated.
Sandy released a grunt of air that sounded vaguely happy and adjusted his free hand into a shape that indicated either general approval or agreement.
“I hope you did not over work yourself,” Notes the Passing Changes went on.
“Nah,” Sandy said with a yawn, before his words were interrupted with another shudder. “It was the perfect late spring workout.”
“May I ask why your body is generating those spasms?” Notes the Passing Changes asked, more curious than concerned.
It was clear that Sandy’s body was glowing with mammalian health, and if to confirm this the human burst out laughing.
“Noticed that did ya?” He asked. “Well in case you hadn’t noticed all that muck I was forking around today was nasty!”
“Indeed,” Notes the Passing Changes agreed. “I did notice. That is why I requested assistance in shifting it.”
“Nasty an’ mucky,” Sandy went on with another shudder, “an’ it got all down in me’ clothes. Sticks poking me’ skin. More than a bit ‘o muck in me’ eyes, and nose, and mouth. Fling enough muck and it goes everywhere. Sticking to me’ back and me’ front, and even in me’ shoeen!”
“Yes,” Notes the Passing Changes agreed again. “I observed that at the time. What is resulting in your shuddering movements now?”
Sandy drew and deep breath and stared at the wall a long moment before answering.
“Can still feel ‘em,” he muttered before taking another drink.
“Did you not just ‘shower’ to remove all particles from your outer membrane?” Notes the Passing Changes asked.
Sandy nodded and went to take another drink only to find the canister empty. He looked into it mournfully before shuddering again and swinging his body upright with some sounds of effort.
“Washed up good,” he agreed as he lumbered towards the kitchen, “but I’ll still be feeling all the muck and bits till my brain gets as good a clean as my body.”
“And how will you do that?” Notes the Passing Changes asked in growing interest.
Every text book said the human brain was well protected against particulate contamination.
“Sleep,” Sandy said in an almost reverent tone as he reached the sink and began to refill the canister. “Can’t just yet, else I’ll be up with the moon, but it’ll take a good night’s sleep to get the bits of muck out o’ my brain.”
Sandy wandered back into the resting area and dropped onto the couch. Notes the Passing Changes decided to wait until Pat was out of her shower to peruse the topic as Sandy still seemed more interested in that empty spot on the wall.


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Humans are Weird - Contextual

8/19/2024

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Humans are Weird - Contextual

 Second Sister stepped lightly into the mechanics bay and ducked as a massive fleshy hand, pockmarked with several new lacerations she noted with a sense of tired frustration, swung at her and nearly struck her head. The human it was attached to, First Mechanic, a mid-sized male with depressing medical habits was energetically talking to the wall mounted comm unit. As usually he seemed to have forgotten that the device was more than advanced enough to accommodate multiple species and was bent nearly double to address it.
“-in the south bay-frag! Sorry Sis! Didn’t hit you did I? No? Yeah it’s gotta be there, that’s where all the flame producing tools go since the incident with the magnesium… try under the bench?”
“You did not make contact with me. Stand. Up.” Second Sister snapped out.
First Mechanic shot her a distracted grin as he unfurled his body like some very strange seed pod ripening.
“You need to take care of that bizarre internal skeleton of yours!” Second Sister scolded him. “Just because you can’t see the joints doesn’t mean that you can ignore them.”
“No!” First Mechanic snapped, his eyes flicking back to the comm, “I told you I haven’t touched it in months! It should be there.”
Second Sister drew in a deliberately loud sigh over her lung and walked over to the workbench with the dense fabric repair tools. She chose the awl she needed and spread out the strap she had brought in for alterations. Before she could begin however the bench suddenly shifted and a cheerful voice called out.
“Do you need help with something?”
Second Sister started and drew back as Third Mechanic scrambled out from a tub on a lower shelf. The Shatar flicked her proboscis out and licked at at eye to calm herself.
“Thank you but no,” she said firmly. “I need to do this myself.”
“Do you mind if I observe?” the Undulate asked as he scrambled up and displaced several loose tools to make a place for himself at the far end of the bench.
“So long as you do not touch my work,” Second Sister said firmly as she spread the strap out again and lifted the awl.
Behind her the human continued to flail his thick arms about and contort his hands, to her side the Undulate was clearly angling half his appendages to watch her work and half to observe the human. Second Sister drew in a deep breath and set down the tool.
“Third Mechanic,” she said, carefully to not sound judgmental, “is First Mechanic carrying on two conversations at once?”
The Undulate spread his appendages in surprise and gave a thoughtful hum.
“Not so far as I can tell,” he replied. “Why do you ask?”
“It seems that he is talking to the person on the other side of the comm with his voice and gesturing to you at the same time,” Second Sister explained. “However I was not aware that humans could thus divide their attention safely, and he is in the workshop where attention should be carefully directed.”
The Undulate gave a rumble of amusement and came forward to pat her hand gently.
“You Shatar are so cautious about such things,” Third Mechanic said in a fond tone and Second Sister tried not to bristle at the tone. “No, no, he is not talking to me and he is fully focused on his conversation with Human Biologist George. The gestures are simply Human Friend Bruce communicating the exact location of, and how to get full access the tool they are discussing.”
“Please remove yourself from my workspace,” Second Sister said as she mulled over that.
She raised the hammer and placed the first few necessary holes in the strap before responding.
“The wall mounted comm unit does not have a functional video system,” she finally observed.
“Yes, yes,” the Undulate murmured. “It busted as the humans say some weeks ago-”
Third Mechanic’s voice cut off and his appendages all curled down into what the humans called a ‘thinking loaf’ as he mulled over that.
“I sound your confusion,” he finally said, “but perhaps this is simply a habit of good communication?”
“Did First Mechanic usually use the video feature when it was active?” Second Sister asked as she tested the flexibility of the strap.
“No,” the Undulate admitted, before taking a long ‘thinking loaf’ pause, and then tossing the majority of his mass up to wave at First Mechanic, incidentally throwing off the placement of the next hole and nearly ruining the strap. “Human Friend Bruce! Why are you speaking in gestures if Human Biologist George can’t see you?”
“Just a tic,” First Mechanic said into the comms and turned to blink slowly at them.
Second Sister hoped that the set of her antenna was enough evidence that she was not responsible for this very rude interruption.
“I’m not using speech gestures,” he said after a long look at his hands. “I think, moving my hands like this, like I was there looking for it myself, helps me find the right memory?”
The human turned back to the comm.
“Yeah, sorry, think I was freaking out Cuddlesalot,” he said to presumably the human on the line.
“Not freaked out, just confused,” the Undulate assured him. “How about that? I didn’t know that humans could physically stimulate memory!”
Second Sister reached out and firmly pushed the Undulate out of her workspace. He went cheerfully, still chattering about the mysteries of human memory and communication.  
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Humans are Weird - Sweet Success

8/12/2024

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Humans are Weird - Sweet Success 

First Sister was clicking softly to herself as she carefully counted out the correct number of avian eggs into the incubators. This particular species, one that was both very social and a pleasing color to Shatar and humans alike was highly valued and the decision to encourage production on an industrial level had been fairly easy. By gathering eggs from the wild nests of human habituated pairs while the females were still in the process of laying their clutch they were able to encourage the females to lay more eggs and were able to ‘hand raise’ individuals for the twenty-generation long domestication process. These would be the secondary generation, selected for genetic diversity, tamed from laying but entirely undomesticated. Hopefully in a few dozen years they would have a population of fully domesticated avians with a genetic predisposition for pest control. They would be immeasurably useful in the aquatic gardens to keep down the invertebrate pests. As First Sister placed the final egg in its slot and closed the door of the incubator she gave one final happy click.

She stepped back and titled her triangular head at the ambient lighting, low enough that it was dangerous for the human team members, it was perfectly adequate for Shatar eyes, more used to dense overhead canopies and it mimicked the lighting conditions under a nesting mother avian. The incubator of course controlled the humidity and temperature of the eggs, and provided a constant low murmur of human and Shatar voices and ambient movement sounds, set at the same volume that the developing embryos would experience in their colonies. The faint snatches of daily conversation whispered over her antenna and frill.
Suddenly the ambient hatchery peace was broken by a muted bang, a sound as of metal being placed under too much strain, then a thump as of a massive mammalian body striking the floor, a vocalization that was thankfully denoted more frustration than pain, and finally some shouted coherent words.
“I’m fine!”
First Sister drew a deep breath through her lung and stepped out of the incubation room and waved for her various sister and aunts to go back to their work. She would call for help if Human First Ornithologist was more than usually obstreperous. First Sister followed the erratic vibrations in the floor of the structure to the brood aviary. The large room, sides partly open to the surrounding swamp, partly enclosed to allow for thermal management, was just as dim as the rest of the compound and more difficult to light to human safety requirements due to the need to keep the fuzzy little hatchlings mentally stable. Moreover the restrictive barriers meant to keep local predators away from the hatchlings were the perfect height to catch humans on the massive bone that supported the majority of their weight. First Sister found Human First Ornithologist clutching the wall beside the First Aid shelf digging through the bandages with a wide and triumphant grin on her face. Her pheromones spoke lightly of pain, but that was nearly covered in a wash of success endorphins, a heady smell at any time coming off the massive mammals, but in the enclosed, humid space of the brood aviary it nearly made First Sister a little giddy.
“Did the shin breakers get you again First Ornithologist?” First Sister asked, remembering the human politeness of blaming the inanimate object involved rather than the obvious human error.
First Ornithologist blinked at her in confusion for a moment, before her face lit up with understanding and she laughed. The human grabbed the broad bandage she had been reaching for, one a Shatar would only have used for a broad surface medical application, but humans used to assist membrane regrowth, and folded one of her thick legs up to get access to her shin.
“No,” she said as she peeled up the protective layers of the loose body glove humans wore in these situations where they expected to encounter a high level of dirt and muck.
The tighter under-layer, made white specifically to contrast human blood, was already stained with the red liquid, refuting the denial. First Ornithologist hissed as she peeled down the inner layer and revealed the abraded flesh layers. First Sister did not cringe back in horror but she did feel her antenna curl and her frill tighten, something First Ornithologist seemed to notice as well.
“I mean not like usual,” First Ornithologist explained with a laugh as she sprayed the disinfectant over her injury and slapped the bandage on. She waited the required moment for the bandage to adhere and then restored the now blood stained inner layer and the outer layer to their places.
“What caused that then,” First Sister asked, indicating the injury with a flick of her fingers.
“The baby duckies!” First Ornithologist declared, her voice spiking in pitch to something nearly a squeal as she bounced on her toes.
“They attacked you?” First Sister asked, the words indicated it, but the humans tone did not.
The human laughed and shook her head.
“So you know how Primary Clutch North Five has still been consistently panicking when I go into the pen to feed and socialize them?” First Ornithologist asked.
First Sister tilted her head in acknowledgment.
“Well not only didn’t they panic when I came in this time,” the human went on as she rearranged the First Aid kit, “but they actually, well two of them at least, came up to me before I even poured the food in their dish, and as soon as I poured it the whole clutch came running up to me, well to the food dish, and started eating before I left. They were looking right at me the whole time too, and they were so calm!”
First Ornithologist paused for appreciation and beamed as First Sister agreed that this was a very promising advancement.
“If we can get the primary generation fully tamed it will make the domestication process so much easier,” First Ornithologist went on.
“And how did that result in your injuries?” First Sister interjected before the conversation grew too far off towards the light of perceived success.
The human paused, and her eyelids blinked rapidly as she redirected her thoughts.
“Oh,” she said. “When I tried to get out of the pen after socialization time was over there were like, four duckies on my feet, and I was trying not to step on them and I tripped, and so I didn’t fall on the duckies I grabbed the wall, and then the support, and then I banged my shin on the shin breaker, but I didn’t hurt any of the duckies!”
First Sister tried to get a bit more information out of the human, but the conversation kept switching back to how happy the human was that the socialization efforts were going so well.
“Domesticated alien duckies in my lifetime,” she kept repeating.
First Sister heaved a sigh and decided to let the matter of the injury drop until it could be reported to the human’s assigned medic. Apparently duckies were more important than abraded shins.  
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Humans are Weird - Don't Talk About It

8/5/2024

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Humans are Weird - Don't Talk About It

 The transport, a wheeled thing of a design that was outmoded when the colony was first settled but that still somehow functioned too well to be recycled, rattled and bumped over what was nominally called a road. The surface was torn and grooved by the passage of many of the large domestic beasts that the humans maintained. Despite the stabilizers built around the mobile work space Prodsandprods still had to work constantly to keep his samples from dissipating out of their containment units. It was with profound relief that he felt the water in the tank give one final slosh, a moment aborted by the fact that the space had been filled to maximum capacity, before settling into stillness. The water still wasn’t quite calm when the top rotated off and several inviting slaps sounded on the surface. ProdsandProds gave a few final touches to the sample growths to ensure they would stay in their respective places and swam eagerly to the surface of the water.
“Are you ready to gather more samples?” Prodsandprods asked as he scrambled out of the mobile work space.
Human Friend Philip turned his head and frowned at Prodsandprods causing the Undulate to hesitate. Normally the human would have his long, jointed appendages held up to assist Prodsandprods down while his exposed skin danced with the light of anticipation. However now Human Friend Philip’s arms were held tight to his sides while his gripping appendages shifted constantly, project the sense of unease even if there were no words in the movements.
“Human Friend Philip?” Prodsandprods asked, making sure to put concern into his voice.
The human turned not only his head but his entire body away from the transport and towards the wide section of the river they had arrived at.
“Not sure if we can get in there today Prods,” Human Friend Philip said. “I don’t like the way the river looks.”
Prodsandprods gave a hum of concern and lifted most of his mass out of the comforting mass of the work space. He took a moment to let the thin atmosphere dry his outer membrane until he could taste the specific moisture from the river. The moisture carried with it many organic chemicals, a complex mix that suggested flooding. From what he could absorb of the ambient light the features of the riverbed were far more obscured by the presence of suspended material than usual though the level of the river was consistent with its usual state when they took samples here.
“There appears to have been some flooding,” ProdsandProds observed as he started down the side of the work space on his own. “Why would that prevent us from taking samples? Is the flow force too great?”
Human Friend Philip glanced at the device attached to his wrist and shook his head.
“That’s not it,” he said. “I was more concerned about the turbidity. You can’t see anything in the water today.”
“What does visibility have to do with safety?” Prodsandprods asked as he lifted his sample kit from the carrying shelf and began trekking towards the dock.
Human Friend Philip gave him a perplexed look but followed with the uneasy movements of his gripping appendages increased.
“If I can’t see how do I know what’s down there?” he finally asked.
Prodsandprods hummed thoughtfully as they reached the end of the dock and he set out his tools.
“Yes,” he mused as he arranged the sampling pods he would need in his carry satchel. “Humans are very dependent on sight.” He finished his arrangements and lifted his lagging end to get Human Friend Philip’s attention. “You will just have to navigate by the feel of the current! You have that ability!”
“Barely!” Human Friend Philip said, his main appendages starting to move again, albeit with exasperation. “By the time I feel the current bulge of an approaching object it’s way too late for me to dodge. What if there are like, sharp wood spars in the water?”
“That is what the safety nets upstream are for, nothing that registers as a threat will make it past them,” Prodsandprods pointed out. “Just put on your facemask if you are concerned about possible pathogens and then you will have access to the lidar.”
“Yeah,” Human Friend Philip agreed, though his body still twitched with unease.
Prodsandprods slipped into the water and was busily taking samples when he heard the massive splash of the human entering the water. They worked around the sample grid they had laid out at the beginning of the season and Prodsandprods couldn’t help noticing that every so often Human Friend Philip would occasionally jerk and then thrash, before returning to his work. They finished the grid and ProdsandProds swam up to Human Friend Philip and carefully adjusted his speech for underwater communication.
“We have plenty of extra time and the thermal levels of the water and within the safety zones,” Prodsandprods said with an inviting play wriggle, as always glad that that translated to Human kinesthetics so well. However instead of responding to the invitation Human Friend Philip only thrashed again, this time kicking one leg wildly.
“What keeps touching me?” He demanded using his hands to gesture the words. “This one has my ankle and won’t let go!”
Prodsandprods drifted down and found what had tangled around the human’s ankle. It came off easily and Prodsandprods swam back up.
“I removed it from your leg,” he informed the human. “Shall we use the rest of our time for recreation?”
“What was it?” the human demanded.
“It was one of the waste clumps from the local domestic animals,” Prodsandprods informed him. “The flooding must have reached their grazing pastures upstream and the dried fecal matter is drifting-”
Human Friend Philip suddenly went very, very still, his massive body drifting in the slight current along the bank. Then the human’s limbs twitched violently, his main appendages formed the gesture for ‘no’ and possibly something meant to be vulgar, and Human Friend Philip struck out for the surface at full speed. By the time Prodsandprods caught up with him Human Friend Philip had reached the dock and was stripping off his protective suit.
“I am not swimming for fun when poop strings are grabbing my ankles Prods,” the human growled out before Prodsandprods could speak. “You and your freaky, impossible immune system have have fun with that. I am going to set up water purifier and the shower,” the human gulped took a deep breath, “and we will never speak of this again.”
Prodsandprods observed with concern that Human Friend Philips’s colors were tending towards illness and he climbed out, shaking the water off of his appendages.
“A sterile, hot shower does sound nice,” Prodsandprods agreed, wondering what had caused this reaction. Surely the microbe load in the water had not been enough to overwhelm the human’s protective equipment. There was of course the psychological factor…
“You touch the fecal matter of those domestic animals frequently,” Prodsandprods pointed out. “What was different in the situation where the current made it touch you?”
Human Friend Philips’s lights positively flushed with nausea and he physically staggered catching himself on the truck.
“We will not speak of this,” he breathed out, voice catching, before forcing himself upright and beginning the process of pulling out the proper tubes for the sterile shower.
Prodsandprods decided to wait until the human looked better before requesting more of an explanation of why touching dry fecal matter on land caused such massive difference in reaction from being touched by wet fecal matter in the water.  
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  • Home
    • Book 1 "Humans are Weird: I Have the Data"
    • Book 2 "Humans are Weird: We Took a Vote"
    • Book 3 "Humans are Weird: Let's Work It Out"
    • "Flying Sparks"
    • "Dying Embers"
    • "Hidden Fires"
    • Testimonials
  • The Aliens
    • Dying Embers
    • Humans Are Weird
    • Miscellaneous
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    • Humans Are Weird
  • Store: Betty's Booty
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