Humans are Weird - Alarming
Flume slipped awake from a dream of gnawing on a perfectly stale bun, that delicious golden kind that was just the right size to fit in the joint of your jaw and flavored your whole mouth with warm bread. With a regretful sigh Flume came awake and carefully extracted the soft fiber sack that Victor used to keep all his weird joints in alignment when he fell into that deep state of torpor that was so necessary to humans. Flume grimaced and ran his tongue over his teeth. It wasn’t that the clean sack tasted bad exactly, but when your dreams were filling your nose with the smell of perfect bread waking up to the taste of vegetative fibers was a serious disappointment.
Flume gave a careful stretch, mindful of the breathing patterns of his bedfellow. Victor was pumping out enough heat-units per heartbeat to count as a decently efficient furnace and trapped under the thick blankets the heat soaked deliciously into Flume’s every joint. Flume listened carefully to Victor’s breathing, which was deep and steady, and decided that the human was deep enough in torpor that a quick adjustment was acceptable. Flume snuggled closed up to the warm mass of human muscle on the other side of a thin fiber weave and gave a happy sigh. Flume dropped back into his dream wondering if Victor would mind about any minor damage to the fiber sack.
Flume’s next wake cycle came from a dream of sorting grains by viability and Victor was shifting around. Flume wondered if he a had woken his friend when the air was suddenly pierced by the shrieking of rending metal. Flume jerked up into a sitting position, starting out into the cool air of the room. Victor groaned and began swinging his body from side to side, before lunging up and staggering to the computer display on the wall. The human sagged against the wall and pawed at the display until the sound, an alarm Flume realized, stopped and then staggered back to the bed. Victor gave a few thrashes that reset the blankets and even made sure to re-secure the blankets over Flume.
“Wasn’t that the wake alarm Victor?” Flume asked as they snuggled down into the mattress.
“Just ten more minutes,” Victor slurred out, tossing an arm around Flume and pulling him close.
“Won’t that make it difficult to complete your morning routine?” Flume asked through a yawn.
“I c’n make it,” Victor assured him. “Can do everything in five if I need to.”
Victor’s breathing slipped back into sleep patterns and Flume considered that. If Victor could complete his entire morning preparation for the day in five (minutes presumably) why did he have his alarms set to wake him an hour before he began his work. Flume had just slipped into sleep again when the sound of rending metal filled the room and once more Victor staggered up, stopped the alarm and crawled back into bed. Flume hummed thoughtfully and pulled the pillow back into his mouth. It didn’t taste that bad and it was decent for a gnaw. What was the point of this behavior? Of setting such a horrible alarm, setting it so one had to leave the comfort of bed and sleep-mate to turn it off, and then just ignoring it?
Flume gave a careful stretch, mindful of the breathing patterns of his bedfellow. Victor was pumping out enough heat-units per heartbeat to count as a decently efficient furnace and trapped under the thick blankets the heat soaked deliciously into Flume’s every joint. Flume listened carefully to Victor’s breathing, which was deep and steady, and decided that the human was deep enough in torpor that a quick adjustment was acceptable. Flume snuggled closed up to the warm mass of human muscle on the other side of a thin fiber weave and gave a happy sigh. Flume dropped back into his dream wondering if Victor would mind about any minor damage to the fiber sack.
Flume’s next wake cycle came from a dream of sorting grains by viability and Victor was shifting around. Flume wondered if he a had woken his friend when the air was suddenly pierced by the shrieking of rending metal. Flume jerked up into a sitting position, starting out into the cool air of the room. Victor groaned and began swinging his body from side to side, before lunging up and staggering to the computer display on the wall. The human sagged against the wall and pawed at the display until the sound, an alarm Flume realized, stopped and then staggered back to the bed. Victor gave a few thrashes that reset the blankets and even made sure to re-secure the blankets over Flume.
“Wasn’t that the wake alarm Victor?” Flume asked as they snuggled down into the mattress.
“Just ten more minutes,” Victor slurred out, tossing an arm around Flume and pulling him close.
“Won’t that make it difficult to complete your morning routine?” Flume asked through a yawn.
“I c’n make it,” Victor assured him. “Can do everything in five if I need to.”
Victor’s breathing slipped back into sleep patterns and Flume considered that. If Victor could complete his entire morning preparation for the day in five (minutes presumably) why did he have his alarms set to wake him an hour before he began his work. Flume had just slipped into sleep again when the sound of rending metal filled the room and once more Victor staggered up, stopped the alarm and crawled back into bed. Flume hummed thoughtfully and pulled the pillow back into his mouth. It didn’t taste that bad and it was decent for a gnaw. What was the point of this behavior? Of setting such a horrible alarm, setting it so one had to leave the comfort of bed and sleep-mate to turn it off, and then just ignoring it?
Kindle Vella
The war to end all wars. If ever there was a noble calling, a worthy cause surely it was this. As my grandmother before me, I felt bound in honor to offer my skills to the cause. Not as a nurse, as she did, most worthy woman, but as a doctor, a surgeon, to enter the field of battle, of honor, of glory.
Perhaps had I not been so arrogant my fate would have been different, perhaps not, shells fall on the prideful and humble alike, and my mind, body, and health shattered I found myself invalided in the home of my Uncle’s friend, Mycroft Holmes, the great sea itself between myself and home.
I am told that I will be made useful in some capacity and I think I could be quite content here, if only I can find a way to control my temper with the younger Holmes brother. The man will go out of his way to be vexing, it cannot only be my shattered nerves that makes it seem so.
Excerpt from the journal of Doctor Johana Hariet Watson
https://www.amazon.com/kindle-vella/story/B0D9C8LTBP
The war to end all wars. If ever there was a noble calling, a worthy cause surely it was this. As my grandmother before me, I felt bound in honor to offer my skills to the cause. Not as a nurse, as she did, most worthy woman, but as a doctor, a surgeon, to enter the field of battle, of honor, of glory.
Perhaps had I not been so arrogant my fate would have been different, perhaps not, shells fall on the prideful and humble alike, and my mind, body, and health shattered I found myself invalided in the home of my Uncle’s friend, Mycroft Holmes, the great sea itself between myself and home.
I am told that I will be made useful in some capacity and I think I could be quite content here, if only I can find a way to control my temper with the younger Holmes brother. The man will go out of his way to be vexing, it cannot only be my shattered nerves that makes it seem so.
Excerpt from the journal of Doctor Johana Hariet Watson
https://www.amazon.com/kindle-vella/story/B0D9C8LTBP
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