Humans Are Weird – Forgetfulness
“Hey Twitch buddy,” Private Jones called out from the next room, the salutation interrupted by a yawn.
“Yes, friend Jones?” Quilx’tch responded without altering his posture. His secondary legs were tapping lightly across the bottom of his abdomen, triggering the keyboard that was projected there. He might have used the data processing station in the center of the large communal room but that would require running around the edge of the human sized space. The pathways that the humans had built into the walls were very useful to be sure. However Quilx’tch was tired after a long day of observing the base commander engaged in ‘hunting’ and had much data to process. He rather preferred to use his personal device and stay right here in the comfy hammock that had been made with his comfort in mind thank you very much.
“Do you by chance remember what I came in here for?” Jones asked.
Quilx’tch paused in the composition of his observations and slowly turned to face the door that Jones had stepped through. He tried to parse the words. “By chance” indicated that the human thought that the likelihood that the answer would be positive was low. Quilx’tch mulled hard over what they rest of the question could mean.
“Why do you think that I would know what your intentions were by leaving the room?” Quilx’tch asked.
“Eh,” Jones said, “maybe I said something to you…”
“You did not,” Quilx’tch said slowly. “But that is the room that houses the foodstuffs. Perhaps you were hungry and wished to procure food.”
“It’s always about food with you,” the human said with some amusement in his voice. “Oh! Right. Boot grease! Thanks buddy.”
Quilx’tch stared rather blankly at the door as Jones came back in clutching the canister of ‘boot grease’ and proceeded to get to the task of cleaning and waterproofing his foot coverings. Quilx’tch thought to ask why Jones had thanked him when his suggestion had been fruitless but the question of how the human had forgotten his intention between the couch and the door seemed both more pressing and less polite. Finally Quilx’tch shrugged and turned back to his report, making a high priority note to pursue this further. Such a sensitive topic as flaws in mental function might need something more in the way of diplomacy than a mere nutritional anthropologist could offer.
“Hey Twitch buddy,” Private Jones called out from the next room, the salutation interrupted by a yawn.
“Yes, friend Jones?” Quilx’tch responded without altering his posture. His secondary legs were tapping lightly across the bottom of his abdomen, triggering the keyboard that was projected there. He might have used the data processing station in the center of the large communal room but that would require running around the edge of the human sized space. The pathways that the humans had built into the walls were very useful to be sure. However Quilx’tch was tired after a long day of observing the base commander engaged in ‘hunting’ and had much data to process. He rather preferred to use his personal device and stay right here in the comfy hammock that had been made with his comfort in mind thank you very much.
“Do you by chance remember what I came in here for?” Jones asked.
Quilx’tch paused in the composition of his observations and slowly turned to face the door that Jones had stepped through. He tried to parse the words. “By chance” indicated that the human thought that the likelihood that the answer would be positive was low. Quilx’tch mulled hard over what they rest of the question could mean.
“Why do you think that I would know what your intentions were by leaving the room?” Quilx’tch asked.
“Eh,” Jones said, “maybe I said something to you…”
“You did not,” Quilx’tch said slowly. “But that is the room that houses the foodstuffs. Perhaps you were hungry and wished to procure food.”
“It’s always about food with you,” the human said with some amusement in his voice. “Oh! Right. Boot grease! Thanks buddy.”
Quilx’tch stared rather blankly at the door as Jones came back in clutching the canister of ‘boot grease’ and proceeded to get to the task of cleaning and waterproofing his foot coverings. Quilx’tch thought to ask why Jones had thanked him when his suggestion had been fruitless but the question of how the human had forgotten his intention between the couch and the door seemed both more pressing and less polite. Finally Quilx’tch shrugged and turned back to his report, making a high priority note to pursue this further. Such a sensitive topic as flaws in mental function might need something more in the way of diplomacy than a mere nutritional anthropologist could offer.
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