So I now have a Patreon account. For now there are some fun rewards from Anonymity to baby aliens. In a few weeks I hope to have some actual Patreon specific podcasts up.
Humans are Weird – What’s That Word
Quilx’tch tried not to slump with irritation as he followed his agitated colleague down the hall to the primary computer banks. The mix of bovine protein he was experimenting with had almost reached the temperature point just before boiling when he was forced by professional curtsey to prematurely end the experiment. Of course he could always heat the substance again but his human contact assured him that this would cause molecular level disfigurement that would completely ruin the final consistency of the desired product.
Quilx’tch shot a glance as the hindlegs of his colleague and surreptitiously triggered the recording function of his tablet.
“Call Pele about possible workarounds for cheese cake recipe,” he softly clicked.
“Are you paying attention?” His colleague demanded.
“Not entirely,” Quilx’tch admitted. “Not until we get to the screens where I can actually see the evidence.”
His colleague bristled in annoyance but waved a manipulator in acceptance of his logic.
“You say you have proof of various humans displaying this behavior more than once?” Quilx’tch asked in an attempt to get his mind focused.
“No,” his colleague flicked his back leg in correction. “I only managed to record the behavior once. However I have notes on the majority of similar cases.”
“I have far too much experience with our newest biped friends,” Quilx’tch began, “to ask why you do not simply describe the behavior.”
“Thank you.” The other replied, relaxing a little as they entered the comfortable sized room built just for Trisk bodies and minds.
“However why did you not just play the video on our mobile devices?” Quilx’tch asked as his colleague waved him over a three dimensional display.”
“Given that the behavior does not appear to be conscious I thought it best to avoid any shame reactions if it is noted,” his colleague explained.
“When have you ever,” Quilx’tch demanded, “seen one of these space faring humans display a shame reflex?”
“Look,” his colleague pointed to the display as it began to play. “Just watch the human.”
Quilx’tch bristled himself a bit at the rudeness but focused on the scene. The humans was ‘sitting’ at his work station while several Trisk worked around him. The massive human desk providing for nearly twenty Trisk work clusters. The humans was poised in a position that Quilx’tch had come to associate with maximum productivity. His internal skeleton held the massive mammalian muscles rigidly up and his fingers flew over the interface surface. From the looks of it the high ranking Ranger was composing a final report from all of the field data gathered on the economically vital ‘space whales’. Suddenly however the rapid tapping of the humans fingers faltered and paused.
Quilx’tch titled his head in interest. The human pulled his flexible upper lip in between his gleaming white teeth and chewed on it a moment causing Quilx’tch to flinch in distress. One hand slid off of the active surface and began taping idly on the desk frame, sending tremors through the superstructure that called the attention of all the Trisk present to the unconscious human.
“Gras’kt!” the human suddenly called out.
Quilx’tch bristled a bit at the rudeness of the sudden interruption. He knew humans were abrupt but this one did not even lift his eyes to the Trisk he addressed.
“Keep watching,” his colleague muttered.
“What is that word?” The human demanded.
Presumably of Gras’kt. The main structure of the humans dominant arm was now pointed in the generally direction of the Trisk who had first responded, but the hand was twisting around in a circular gesture that caused the pointing finger to encompass three-fourths of the room.
“That word that means how things, you know, how things go, go together. But fancy for the report…”
The various Trisk were now glancing at each other in confusion.
“Dynamics!” The human suddenly shouted.
His hands immediately began flying across the active screen and he grinned in delight.
“Thanks Gras’kt!” The human called out.
After a long pause one Trisk raised a manipulating appendage in confused consent.
“You are welcome?” He replied.
“You’re the best lil’ bud.” The human said.
The replay ended and Quilx’tch looked into his colleague’s eyes with resigned confusion.
“I have no comments to add to your research,” Quilx’tch stated firmly.
Perhaps if he hurried he could save his cheesecake.
So there is a new thing. Sort of new. This is a rock. It is a nice smooth rock. somebody took the care to paint it and hide it in a well trafficked location where someone (me) would find it. there are instructions on the back to post it to FB. The idea being that this rock will travel the world being shared by various travelers. Delightful idea. Please don't hide them in national parks. It does count as littering.
For some reason I found four of these things this summer while the rest of my crew only found one.
She hummed with satisfaction as the placed the half-full jar of coconut oil in between the bag of bags and the box of 'stuff'. She poised for a moment and then slammed the door shut. She considered the mass of her life's positions pressing against the inside of the car and smiled in contentment.
"Welp, best not open that door again. Three to go!"
Humans are Weird – Surf’s Up
“So this is what Human Steve has been saving up his printer time for,” Twistunder observed as he ambled over the polymer surface.
“Do you have any idea what it is?” Thirty-five Clicks asked from above.
“No,” Twistunder replied as he reached on end and draped his gripping appendages over the pointed tip.
“Then why did you request permission to inspect it?” The Winged asked.
“Human Steve was giggling while he made this,” Twistunder explained.
“And what does that have to do with the density of midges over the water?” Thirty-five Clicks asked.
Twistunder mused for a moment before replying.
“Oh yes, you’re new,” the Undulate said.
Thirty-five Clicks bristled in affront but as the Undulate simply continued his minute inspection of the human creation the Winged released the load of irritation and fluttered over to him in curiosity.
“I think it looks like a floating colony pontoon,” Thrity-five Clicks offered. “But larger.”
“It is very broad for such a function but on reflection I must agree,” consented Twistunder. “And what do you make of these protrusions?”
He indicated the three triangular forms that rose out of the blunt end of the thing.
“Stabilizers,” the Thrity-five Clicks said with confidence. “To reduce rolling. Not all species have no concept of up you know.”
“We have a concept of resisting gravity,” Twistunder protested. “It just doesn’t mean all that much to us.”
“Sure, sure,” The Winged landed between the protrusions and experimentally nudged one with a wing claw. “Strong but small in proportion to the rest of the float.”
“Indeed,” Twistunder said.
“Odd that he printed it just now,” Thirty-five Clicks observed. “With that wind coming in from the great water we certainly can’t fly and even you swimming types have declared the best hunting estuaries unsafe.”
“The force of the waves on this world would crush us,” Twistunder affirmed. “I doubt even the famous internal skeleton of our human friends could withstand the blows.”
“So why now?” Thirty-five Clicks asked with growing uneasiness.
“I was concerned,” Twistunder admitted, “but your observation on the inadequate size of the stabilizers offers an unclenching explanation.”
“Unclenching?” Thirty-five Clicks asked.
“It relieves my tension,” Twistunder replied. “This is no doubt only a component of a larger craft. Human Steve is no doubt building it in sections as he saves up enough to print out all the parts.”
“That makes sense,” Thirty-five Clicks replied. “Consider me unclenched.”
“That is not how that word is used,” Twistunder said with some affront.
Thirty-five Clicks was about to reply when the human sound of joy (that was far too similar to an emergency alert klaxon) tore through the base. Human Steve burst into the storage room his bronze skin gleaming; all several square meters of it. Thirty-five Clicks stared in wide eared shock at the masse of nearly imperceptibly furred dermis. Human Steve was wearing nothing but a small pair of undergarments as he swept up the float. Twistunder had somehow found the speed to slip off the side before this and seemed less shocked than Thirty-five clicks as they watched the human disappear out the door with the giant float balanced on his head as if it were nothing.
Twistunder never stopped moving. He prodded the stunned Winged as he shuffled by.
“I will contact the medic,” Twistunder said. “You get on the cultural database and find out what in the name of my mother’s colony ‘Surf’s Up little dudes!’ means.”
Do you hear the rapping, rapping?
Do you hear its toenails tapping?
The leafs drift by the window pain.
October brings the first cold rain.
Do you hear the bunny munching?
Do you hear his teeth busy crunching?
Well what did you expect?
The Celery stalks at Midnight.
The cat is freaking out.
The bun is busy drinking.
Now pet the doggy's snout.
If you want a delightful Halloween romp go pick up a copy of Bunnicula. The cat is paranoid. The dog is the author. The family is...well they're there. And the Bun...ah... the Bun. Well, you will have to find out for yourself.
I am very much looking forward to the Sabbath. You really never appreciate your days of rest until you have a full time job.
Day is ending,
The North blinks sleepily,
As the trees pull up the blankest and drift off to sleep.
Humans are Weird – Trees are for Climbing
Seven Trills fluttered along the outdoor recreation area just over the soft green groundcover as he listened to his assistant. The larger Winged was going over the list of guests that would be attending the opening of the new consulate. Seven Trills tried to pay attention but the scorching heat of Sol was stinging his sensory horns dreadfully. He wondered how his assistant was ignoring it. He angled himself over to one of the solitary trees the humans kept in the area hoping for shade. His assistant followed willingly and Seven Trills soon perched on an exposed root in the clear area around the trees base.
“And I think it would be best if we instituted a general search protocol to avoid insult to the delegate.” His assistant said.
“Oh yes, yes,” Seven Trills replied.
His assistant was annoyingly, persistently right about these things. The protective shade provided by the tree was suddenly disturbed by a movement in the branches over head and both Seven Trills and his assistant angled their eyes up to see what had made the disturbance in the oppressively still air.
“Is that a human?” Seven Trills asked.
“Is that human spying on us?” his assistant demanded.
Seven Trills heaved a sigh and took flight. His assistant followed.
“How would he know we would come to this tree?” Seven Trills asked.
“Ping,” the assistant granted him.
They had now reached the human and any question was put to rest. The human had braced his massive form against the trunk and branches and was blissfully sleeping away. His arms were sprawled over other branches. Seven Trills grabbed a handy perch and swung down to a resting position. His assistant joined him shortly.
“I don’t think we should risk waking him,” his assistant said in a tone they had determined humans couldn’t hear.
“A fall from this height would be disastrous for a human,” Seven Trills said.
What the human was doing here at all was the question.
“I checked the duty roster against his name,” the assistant said after a moment spent working at his tablet. “This human is in a rest and recreation period but due to the increased security he can’t leave the base.”
“Bored humans,” Seven Trills suggested.
“The base has more entertainment options than any of the surrounding communities,” his assistant pointed out.”
At this point the human’s heart rate accelerated in the way that usually proceeded waking and both Winged fell silent. The human twitched, stretched, and yawned. His eyes opened revealing interwoven blue and green irises contrasting his deep black pupils. The colorful muscles dilated and contracted a few moments before he focused on them.
“Hey,” the human said, pulling his lips up in a smile.
“Greetings,” Seven Trills said. “Perhaps you can satisfy our curiosity.”
“Sure?” the human replied.
“What are you doing up here?” the assistant demanded.
The human glanced down at the ground far below and then up at him. He face seemed to pass between confusion and curiosity a few times and then he showed all of his teeth.
“Trees are for climbing little friend. Trees are for climbing.”
Betty Adams is an up and coming author with a bent for science and Sci-fi.