<![CDATA[Betty Adams Tall Tales

<![CDATA[Betty Adams Tall Tales - Betty\'s Blog]]>Mon, 10 Aug 2026 13:54:25 -0700Weebly<![CDATA[Humans are Weird - Vocabulary]]>Mon, 10 Aug 2026 20:32:09 GMThttps://www.authorbettyadams.com/bettys-blog/humans-are-weird-vocabulary

Humans are Weird - Vocabulary

First Grandmother tilted her head at the carved wooden steps leading up to the human core-hive and ground her mandibles together. She tasted the salt from the air, some from the nearby saline sea, much from the mammals that were almost universally dozing in the warm summer sun. She adjusted her radiation shield and felt it scrape against her antenna in a way that told her the old antenitis would be flaring up soon, as it usually did when she got back from a wandering. She braced her three good legs, and gripped the handrail and stepped up. Her caution almost prevent her bad abdominal joint from sending a shooting pain into her thorax. She took a moment to collect herself once up on the porch, First Sister had warned her that the Mothers of this human hive were remarkably good at spotting hidden pain, before following the sound of a human voice around the wide porch.
“Howdy whoever you are! Come on over, we’re outside.”
As the voice indicated there were several mature humans sitting in that bizarre way they had of folding themselves around their singular couches. If First Grandmother wasn’t being eye-blind, there was one of the Fathers, and two of the Mothers. A few smaller humans sat half on the porch, apparently weaving grasses, and did not consider a visit from another hive’s Grandmother important enough to look up from their tasks. One of the Mothers was holding a very small human, so undeveloped as to be still on the vine, to her bare thorax. They seemed to be attached somehow, but First Grandmother was vaguely aware that humans were somewhat reticent about nudity and tried not to look to interested. The other Mother was playing with a slightly larger human child that she held on her thick upper legs, which did make a very convenient platform First Grandmother had to admit. The father stood and approached First Grandmother, his face splitting open to reveal unnaturally even mandible protrusions.
“First Grandmother!” He said holding out his hand in a greeting that she fortunately knew. “You are back from Tau Alpha! Any luck snagging us some lumberbacks?”
First Grandmother felt her frill stiffen at this rudeness. She didn’t know, couldn’t be expected to know who she was addressing. Was this the First or Second Father of this hive? Technically she didn’t know if he was a Father at all, he might be some random Uncle for all she knew. The humans had many of those or so she heard. However she stilled her reaction, a hard won habit from a lifetime of free-trading.
“Only some embryos,” she said. “They still did not trust my transport.”
The human nodded in understanding, scenting the air with dissapointment.
“This knucklehead is our hive’s Second Father,” the Mother with the attached child spoke up. “I am his Second Mother, and this,” she indicated the other mature human with a disturbing sideways tilt of her head, “is my Fourth Sister come to visit, Third Aunt to my children.”
First Grandmother gave a grateful nod of greeting to each, as Human Second Father laughed and made an apology before sitting back down, clearly not very chagrined by his lack of hospitality. They passed a few more pleasantries when First Grandmother tilted her head at the larger children.
“Those little ones,” she asked, “do they understand complex social issues? Or do they repeat what they hear without understanding?”
From the sudden interested their body language displayed the answer was probably yes to one of the questions at least First Grandmother speculated. The Sister stood with light, amused pheromones drifting from her body.
“I’ll take the kiddos down to play in the stream,” she suggested, as the three mature humans exchanged communication signals with their darting, bifocal eyes – the equivalent of subtle antenna curls if First Grandmother read the situation right. However having a reasonably unbiased Sister would probably improve the curl of the conversation she hoped to have.
“Sisters usually have very good perspectives,” First Grandmother clicked as the Human Father offered her a juice pouch – a fine, subtle gourd mix, First Grandmother noted with pleasure. In her experience humans tended to favor over rich drupe juices.
There was more of the disquieting, eye-movement communication, and the Father sent the scampering children to go ‘count the growth ring on the goats’ horns’, presumably a task that would keep them occupied and out of hearing while being reasonably safe, and the Sister sat back down with the little one on her lap.
“There is a word I learned in human common,” First Grandmother opened, “hypothetical.”
“So, you have a hypothetical question for us?” the Father asked, leaning back in his seat and taking a sip from his drink.
First Grandmother neither confirmed nor denied it.
“Suppose,” she began, “you had just arrived at your home-hive after a long journey, and instead of going straight into the chaos of your First Son’s garden you went for a brief scamper along the boundary of the forest.”
“That sounds pleasant,” agreed the Human Father, bobbing his head.
“Then you heard voices screaming out insults in a common language,” First Grandmother went on, feeling her antenna twitch with amusement.
“Less pleasant,” the Human Second Mother said, her pheromone profile shifting to something more tart with unease.
“And then you heard a rather random string of profanity, and words that were similar to parts of profanity, as if the person shouting them wasn’t quite sure of what the words were.”
“Confusing,” Humans Second Father, said, his pheromone profile starting to shift back to a light amused mix.
“And if it turned out to be some rather small, I do mean undeveloped for their species small, sapient creatures, hiding in a cove of the beach, shouting out these into the roaring of the ocean waves. And when they saw you they promptly stopped and changed color so dramatically that even someone half blind could notice it.”
There was a low gurgling sound that First Grandmother recognized as a ‘chuckle’ that started in the Sister and flowed around the three humans.
“Hypothetically speaking,” the Father began, “in this situation would the small sapient creatures have mentioned why they were shouting swear words at the waves?”
“Hypothetically speaking they might have claimed that they were practicing to increase their vocabulary,” First Grandmother replied. “Then, to continue the hypothetical, they might have begged you to not, ‘snitch’ on them...what does snitch mean?”
“Old slang for reporting behavior,” the Sister observed.
The group on the porch fell into silence and listened to the thumping and shouting coming from where the larger small children were ‘counting the growth rings’.
“Well, I supposed I’d have to report it to their family,” the Father said with what First Grandmother thought she identified with regret in his voice, “but that would kind of feel like snitching.”
“Yes,” First Grandmother said taking a sip of her juice. “Especially if you weren’t particularly sure about which hive the little ones belonged to.”
There was a pause in the conversation as a particularly loud thud and a distress cry came from the director of the goat pen.
“I told you so!” followed in an exasperated voice.
However from the unconcerned way in which the Mother tilted her head she didn’t gauge it to be a sound profile that warranted intervention.
“Welp,” the Father said as he finished his drink. “Thank you for presenting us with this very interesting hypothetical. It sounds like the surrounding hives would need to talk to their little ones about how to express strong feelings and the importance of not offending other hives, but to avoid resentment maybe they should wait a few days and talk about it in a sort of general way.”
“Would the existence of a printed list of these words alter that plan?” First Grandmother asked.
The chuckle sound went around the humans again.
“If the relevant humans could find the list it would certainly make a spontaneous discussion of the topic seem less like someone snitched,” the Father admitted.
“On another hypothetical,” First Grandmother asked even as she stood to go. “Would it be considered wrong if a little one was making and selling these lists for profit? Small trinkets and snacks?”
“Some little scammer is selling bad words?” the Sister demanded with an outright laugh.
“Hypothetically,” First Grandmother replied.
“Hypothetically,” agreed the Sister with a laugh, “that one could probably be found and talked to in person. The scamp. Even if no one talks, if one kiddo is found to be particularly rich in dodads that might be a sign.”
First Grandmother inclined her head in agreement and was about to reply when a rather large goat came tearing around the corner with a small human clinging to its collar, the goat darted under the porch, how it fit First Grandmother wasn’t quite sure, but the move effectively dislodged the small human who gave off a sound that apparently did warrant the attention of the adults. Feeling her presence no longer need First Grandmother trotted off towards her own hive, feeling that she had hoed her small line for inter-hive peace. It wasn’t comfortable being a ‘snitch’, but, all things considered it was better that she had had the experience than her mate. First Grandfather had opinions about innocence being corrupted and while she loved his passionate dedication to the little ones dearly, they did need to eventually kick their way out of his garden.

Author Betty Adams Books
Amazon!
Barnes & Noble
Powell's Books
Google Play Books
Kobo By Rakuten

Youtube
BitChute
Odysee
Rumble
Veoh

]]><![CDATA[Patron Backer Physical Rewards Ordered]]>Thu, 06 Aug 2026 20:52:50 GMThttps://www.authorbettyadams.com/bettys-blog/patron-backer-physical-rewards-ordered

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0HCXWDTB5
Yay!
I have ordered the print version of the backer rewards from the printer!
They should be in my hands by August 28th. From there I will sign, squiggle, and ship them.

]]><![CDATA[NEW! Available to Buy on Amazon! HAW Book 4]]>Thu, 06 Aug 2026 00:07:14 GMThttps://www.authorbettyadams.com/bettys-blog/new-available-to-buy-on-amazon-haw-book-4

“Humans are Weird: I Did the Math” Short, Absurd Science Fiction Stories
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0HCXV8S92
#Book4 #SciFi #ScienceFiction #ShortStory #Aliens

]]><![CDATA[Preorder on Amazon NOW! Humans are Weird: I Did the Math]]>Wed, 05 Aug 2026 06:29:09 GMThttps://www.authorbettyadams.com/bettys-blog/preorder-on-amazon-now-humans-are-weird-i-did-the-math

Finally! After months of delay (I drove 2600 miles it was a whole thing). "Humans are Weird: I Did the Math" is now avaliable for Pre-order on Amazon. The E-Book is ready to order and the Paperback will be up "within 72 hours" as per Amazon policy?
It will be up on Google, Barnes & Noble, and Kobo soon!
Even more absurd humans!

]]><![CDATA[Humans are Weird - The Liar]]>Mon, 03 Aug 2026 23:20:12 GMThttps://www.authorbettyadams.com/bettys-blog/humans-are-weird-the-liar

Humans are Weird - The Liar

This hemisphere had finished its gradual tilt away from the local star and the growing cold had filled every valley and hollow. The gloaming was empty of the sounds of insects save for the slow, lazy clicks of grubs deep in woody trunks, burrowing their way towards escape and growth when spring eventually brought warmth. Dimly, the thumping and grinding sounds of the humans’ chattel, shaggy massive beasts, came from the open fields where they ate the frozen ground cover.
Disrupts the Gradient allowed awareness to stir as the day slowly crept up closer to the freezing line. A few tendrils had suffered frostbite during the night and those were gently, slowly pulled further into the mass of warm compost. However Disrupts the Gradient had a lot of mass in these highland forests. High above the water table, the groves were safe from the worst flooding even in the worst of the spring rains, but there was little space between the mountain bedrock and the soil surface. Disrupts the Gradient stretched motile fibers and began calculating how much detritus would be necessary to create a thick enough ground cover to generate enough heat to stay aware. Deciding that there was plenty in the local grove, but that it would require most of the daylight hours to move all the detritus Disrupts the Gradient set to work.
By the time the horizon rose to diffuse the light of the local star through the atmosphere Disrupts the Gradient had enough dead leaves and bark fragments on the primary mounds at least to test the cold of the coming night. Just as satisfaction suggested slipping back into half-dormancy the steady rumbling of approaching mammals drew attention to the main path through the forest.
“Walk up!” came the clear ringing voice of the human matriarch, followed quickly by the intense barks of the small, fast canids that always accompanied her.
The pattering of small human feet in boots circled around the slower thumping of Grandma Morgan’s feet and stick.
Disrupts the Gradient considered giving attention to the trees to get a good look at the moving mammals, but decided against it. It was far to cold to comfortably extend photosensitive fibers, and there were so few evergreens in this section of the forest that it was effectively blind.
“-the saddest thing!” one of the small humans was saying. “Watching them die like that-”
Grandma Morgan gave a loud snort, that Disrupts the Gradient had learned meant that she considered something absurd.
“Don’t you girls believe that story!” Grandma Morgan said. “Bark up! Lazy coos, you’ll be warmer down in the valley.”
“Weren’t the people rescued from the Theta colony?” a small human asked.
“Sure they were,” Grandma Morgan said, “but your Great Uncle was but thirteen in Earth years when they were. There was no way he was a ranger then. It was a fine story though. Bark up!”
Grandma Morgan struck her stick into the path hard, reminding Disrupts the Gradient why it was unwise to lace the path with tendrils capable of feeling, and the sounds of the canids increased. The great, shaggy mammals began to low in protest and then moved faster and the humans stopped talking. Disrupts the Gradient felt the cold of the night seeping into half exposed tendrils and summoned them back to the main mass, mulling over this interaction.
The humans would have been coming from the highland camp where they were staging to move the great shaggy beasts and Disrupts the Gradient had left audio tendrils there. The plan was to get access to them in the spring, but this conversation suggested ideas that seemed worth pursuit. It took several hours of the night to connect and strengthen enough tendrils to bring full awareness on the highland camp and the horizon was falling below the direct rays of the star again before the memories warmed enough to play.
The humans were rushing about gathering the shaggy beasts with the aid of the canids, and then they paused to rest around a roaring fire. The Great Uncle, youngest brother to Grandma Morgan, had begun telling a story that he claimed was a tale of his time in the survey core rangers when they had been sent to offer relief to a colony that was on the verge of starvation. The small humans had clearly listened in quiet fascination, and even Grandma Morgan had listened without protest, and yet she had, according to her words, observed factual errors in the story.
Disrupts the Gradient mulled over this. Humans were usually quick to correct each other as soon as a factual inaccuracy was spotted. Why had she waited so long? The question drifted down in priority as the day closed again, and then drifted to the surface of awareness as the local star warmed the hemisphere. One night at a time the cold cycle passed and as the danger of spring flooding passed Disrupts the Gradient allowed tendrils to stretch back into the lowland floodplains where the humans built their dwellings on artificial hills.
It was several weeks before Grandma Morgan had time for a long discussion, when the great shaggy beasts were expelling their young from their bodies the matriarch was at her busiest. Finally the last female had expelled a healthy young male of her species and Disrupts the Gradient hummed for Grandma Morgan’s attention as she was sitting on her porch drinking a hot steaming mug of some drink.
“That you creeping thing?” Grandma Morgan asked, glaring down at the soil beneath her feet.
Disrupts the Gradient rustled the bush that gave the best view of her face and held most of the sound-sensitive fibers.
Grandma Morgan flicked her eyes up to it and leaned back in her chair with a humph of expelled breath.
“What are you creeping thing?” she demanded, before taking a sip of her drink.
Disrupts the Gradient did not think this required an answer as it was this human’s standard greeting in these conversations.
“I have a question about lies.”
Grandma Morgan’s eyebrows arched up and she snorted.
“You would,” she said.
Disrupts the Gradient accepted this as permission to go on.
“Can you get access to a memory from the time you moved the coos from the highland meadows to the midland meadows?”
Grandma Morgan hummed and set her chair to rocking back and forth with a push of her feet, the rhythmic creaking reverberated through the boards of the porch the chair perched on and down into the soil. After enough time had passed for the mammal to retrieve the memory set from the wet depths of her tangled brain matter Disrupts the gradient spoke.
“After the coos were gathered, but before you drove them down, you rested and Grate Uncle Darwin told a story.”
Grandma Morgan nodded and her wrinkled face-skin twisted in a smile.
“Told a pack of lies is what he did,” she said.
“Yet you did not challenge him,” Disrupts the Graident observed.
“And what business is that of your creeping thing?” Grandma Morgan demanded. “Always poking up your ears where they’ve no business to be.”
Disrupts the Gradient patiently let her words fade to a mutter before continuing.
“That you corrected your granddaughters’ understanding on the drive down the hill shows that you have opinions on the matter.”
Disrupts the Gradient paused again to let her complain of observation again.
“Why did you not simply prevent your brother from giving them the false information rather than correct it?”
Grandma Morgan gave a grunt and took a sip of her drink. The fragrant steam lifted up from the container and drifted over to Disrupts the Gradient’s chemo-receptors, blending a warm, fruit flavor with the damp, earth scents of spring soil.
“Couple of reasons,” Grandma Morgan finally said. “Yes, Young Ducky’s a liar, every family in the colony has one like him, and he has been from the time he could talk, but there is no harm in him.” She paused and grimaced. “Not so long as any cash money deal is done in clear, common writing,” she corrected herself. “And you probably wouldn’t want to go into business with him, not more than twice.”
In the pause that followed Disrupts the Gradient noted.
“It would seem there is some financial harm in him.”
Grandma Morgan sighed and nodded.
“I suppose what we mean by that is that a liar like Young Ducky, he won’t ever tell a lie to hurt someone. He won’t stir up trouble between married folk. He wouldn’t accuse someone of something they hadn’t done. He’s not vicious, just careless with other folks money.” She paused in thought. “And he doesn’t go hunting money to steal. He wouldn’t bother any foolish old women to trick them out of their money.”
She shook her head vigorously and glared at the bush.
“Besides,” she said in a curt tone, “the lie we are talking about, wasn’t that kind of lie. The thing about Young Ducky is that he loves to make people happy. To see them laugh and have a good time, and he has a memory in him. He remembers most everything a human can. So he tells stories. Good stories, fun stories, stories that children and adults alike remember.”
“And the information about the rescued colony was one such story?” Disrupts the Gradient asked.
Grandma Morgan nodded, the chair rocking faster and she worked over the memories.
“That story,” she said. “It did happen. In was in the screed-spread for years. It was just before Young Ducky’s time. It won’t hurt the girls to hear it like that, as a story that tastes of campfire and crisp air.”
“They why did you take the time to tell them of the lie?” Disrupts the Gradient asked.
“Well,” Grandma Morgan said, the rocking of her chair slowing down with her words. “Lies, and liars, no matter how fun they might be, are like creeping things. You can’t really do anything about them, not the ones that are family, so its best to know they are there.”
She turned her bi-focal eyes away from the communication bush and brought her cup to her lips meaningfully. Taking this as a dismissal Disrupts the Gradient let the conversation end and began processing all the information.

Author Betty Adams Books
Amazon!
Barnes & Noble
Powell's Books
Google Play Books
Kobo By Rakuten

Youtube
BitChute
Odysee
Rumble
Veoh

]]><![CDATA[Humans are Weird - Quality Control]]>Sun, 24 May 2026 20:44:54 GMThttps://www.authorbettyadams.com/bettys-blog/humans-are-weird-quality-control

Humans are Weird - Quality Control

Pattersover halted her journey upstream and clung to a convenient tether point for a moment, and wondered over how many ways there were to insult a friend. The waters around her tasted of steel and living mammal flesh, as they should. This was the busiest river in the human colony and as the suns rose it would be fully of joyful young humans swimming for no reason other than the joy of being alive and barges full of trade goods connecting the human efforts with the Undulate efforts.
Pattersover shook herself out and began swimming up the personal transport channel again. There really was no danger for a healthy Undulate in the main barge transport channel. The jet propulsion engines were quite harmless to a species that didn’t need air to extract oxygen from their environment, some Undulates even claimed to enjoy getting sucked up into the propulsion channels and shot out into the river again. However Pattersover was firmly in the pond of those who believed that one needed to set a good example for young humans who did need clear airways to breathe. This was also why she was on her way for what she knew in every fiber of her mass was going to be an awkward, painful confrontation.
The soft lapping of wind-waves against the hull of the Sculpin, and the taste of the specific native pitch Human Friend Larch used to repair the boat guided Pattersover unerringly up to her friend’s boathouse. She reached the smooth pebble path Human Friend Larch had laid down for her and paused at the waters’ edge listening to the thin sounds of the air with half of her mass while the other half lingered in the sharper sounds of the water. With a final, firm shake of her appendages Pattersover climbed fully out of the water and up to the greeting bell that hung between the ‘man-door’ and the ‘doggy-door’ entrances to the boathouse. She gripped the pull cord and rang the bell in the general greeting pattern to let Human Friend Larch know she was here, and then shuffled out into the chill morning air.
The door to Human Friend Larch’s main dwelling opened and he stepped out holding a cup of tea that sent aromatic steam drifting into the air. The green land-plants that Human Friend Larch cultivated had grown over the sides of his shaped-stone dwelling and were currently producing a bloom of colorful flowers that surrounded him.
Pattersover took a moment to pause and admire the effort that Human Friend Larch had put into making his dwelling asthetically pleasing to every sense. Then she stiffened up her core and prepared to ford the rot-stream.
“Good-morning Human Friend Larch,” she greeted him. “I trust you slept well.”
“Like a babe,” Human Friend Larch confirmed, holding the man-door to his dwelling open for her to shuffle in. “Trust the currents were gentle in your cove?”
“Quite,” she confirmed, “my little nieces were able to sleep in their own cluster for the first time.”
Human Friend Larch made a wordless cooing sound that humans did when they perceived a child passing from one stage of life to another.
“Tumbleandtumble taking that okay?” He asked.
“My sister was a bit melancholic over the whole affair,” Pattersover admitted as Human Friend Larch sat down at his small breakfast table and she climbed into her ‘high-chair’. “But that is not what I came over to discuss.”
Human Friend Larch raised his eyebrows over his tea and directed his bi-focal eyes to show that he was fully focused on her.
“I came to apologize for my behavior at the Captains’ dinner,” Pattersover said, deciding to plunge in quickly.
Human Friend Larch’s face went unnaturally still and his pheromone profile spiked with unease.
“I am still unsure what social boundary I crossed,” Pattersover explained, “but you were clearly uncomfortable. I should not have insisted you preform after you had refused twice. I do understand that had you refused my request it might have appeared churlish to the other human guests and that put you in an awkward social position. That should have been my concern. Not hearing your lovely little songs again.”
Pattersover let silence wash over the room in waves as Human Friend Larch breathed in and out under the weave of his cold-morning sweater.
“Well,” he eventually said, setting his cup down on the table. “Thank you for the apology. I accept it.”
Outside some hidden wind-chime clinked softly.
“I do not mean to compound my offense with further obduracy,” Pattersover said, “please tell me to drop the issue if you wish, but that did not sound very enthusiastic.”
Human Friend Larch laughed and leaned back in his chair.
“I guess I haven’t really worked out if you actually did something worth an apology that night,” he said, “or if I was just being a childish fool.”
Pattersover paused to think of that.
“May I ask why did you resist singing your songs?” she asked.
“Fair ‘nuff question.” He said with a nod. “You see, those ‘songs’ as you call them. They weren’t really mine, not the way a song is supposed to be if you want to preform it.”
“You composed them,” Pattersover pointed out. “I was there to witness it,” and he had preformed them without hesitation to the audience at the time but Pattersover couldn’t drift to a point were that didn’t sound accusatory...
Human Friend Larch drew in a deep breath and his face creased with deep thought. Clearly whatever taboo she had dragged her lagging end across, it was one that was so natural, so deep to humans that they didn’t think about it. Those were often the worst sink-holes to encounter in a social situation Pattersover knew.
“You know that human songs have two parts,” he said. “There is the words and then there is the melody?”
“I have heard those terms,” Pattersover agreed. “It was once explained to me that humans make their music discreet in the same way their tissues are divided into interconnected organs.”
Human Friend Larch nodded vigorously.
“Well the melody I used for those songs,” he said. “They are old, real old. Came from Earth back in the day.”
“And you grafted in your own words to the old melody?” Pattersover asked.
“Yeah,” Human Friend Larch agreed.
“And this is shameful?” Pattersover asked.
“No, nah,” Human Friend Larch shook his head. “Its a fine old tradition, but the when you do it and the why you do it matter.”
“When you did it with no shame you were teaching children,” Pattersover observed.
“Yes!” Human Friend Larch exclaimed, his face wrinkling into a smile that usually signaled that he had just come to a conclusion. “That is it. See, those were teaching songs. It helps the bairns remember the lesson. No one minds if you use the old music like it was yours for that sort of thing. It’s an old tradition.”
“And the social context of a gathering of professional adults such as the Captains’ dinner does not allow for this kind of teaching song?” Pattersover asked.
“The teaching song in a tool,” Human Friend Larch said. “You wouldn’t whip out a dirty fish net at the dinner and start cleaning it. Not the place.”
“I sound you,” Pattersover acknowledged, “and this, inappropriate use of social tools explains all of your discomfort?”
“No,” Human Friend Larch said slowly, he picked his cup back up and stared out the window with a thoughtful frown. “Has something to do with how the songs weren’t good enough for the dinner.”
He set the cup down on the table and tapped one work-worn appendage against the rim of the ceramic. Pattersover composed her appendages into a respectful thinking-loaf with her leading end on the table and her lagging end still on the chair to signal that she was waiting for him to ponder this at his own pace.
“A shin-dig like this Captains’ dinner,” he finaly said slowly as his eyes seemed to follow one of the barges on the river, “it’s not like a clam-bake out on the sands. The point of it is to have fancy things. The food is stuff you don’t get every day. The folks who put it on make sure to get the nicest room in the city and decorate with good quality stuff you don’t see just anywhere, and it’s not just the business of the host to make it like that. Guests gotta do our bit. You dress up in your good clothes. You talk your fanciest. Maybe you wear your Grandpa’s watch that came over on the colony ships from Earth. You want to make sure that everyone is experiencing the best things can be.”
He took another sip of tea and forced a too-smooth smile at Pattersover.
“If folks at the clam-bake want to sing a silly little song that’s fine, other folks can just wander off and everyone came to relax and have a good time, but if someone it going to sing at a fancy dinner, you want to be sure that you can sing good, better than average, maybe as good as someone who’s trained for years, a pro. Well, I didn’t put any effort into those work songs, and I’m not terrible to listen to, but I’m no pro.”
Pattersover hummed in understanding.
“So by insisting that you sing,” she said. “I was forcing you to choose between breaking the social rules associated with the event, or being openly rude to me.”
Human Friend Larch nodded and directed his gaze out the window, something he did both when he was feeling at peace and feeling very awkward.
“Thank you for taking the time to explain that to me,” Pattersover said softly, “and now that I understand I am very sorry to push you into that tide.”
Human Friend Larch gave a grunt and his face relaxed as his eyes tracked another barge, signaling the transition to a more peaceful mindset. One of his hands drifted down and nudged the warm teapot towards her and Pattersover freed enough appendages from her loaf to reach for a cup.

Author Betty Adams Books
Amazon!
Barnes & Noble
Powell's Books
Google Play Books
Kobo By Rakuten

Youtube
BitChute
Odysee
Rumble
Veoh

]]><![CDATA[Humans are Weird - Hobby]]>Sun, 19 Apr 2026 20:06:04 GMThttps://www.authorbettyadams.com/bettys-blog/humans-are-weird-hobby

Humans are Weird - Hobby

Hst’hst trotted along the weekly tunnel, absently hooking a lower talon into every third support strand and feeling the give.
“I thought you were going to let your work drift off after you left the main platform,” Czt’czt observed with quite amusement twitching in her mandibles.
Hst’hst felt her hairs prickle in annoyance and she deliberately took far longer than a polite six seconds to respond. She did however alter her strides to make it harder for her to fell the strengths of the tunnel.
“It is no easy matter to redirect ones attention from a task when people’s lives depend on doing it correctly,” Hst’hst said.
The response was far too harsh for the context, and Czt’czt flinched back slightly at the implied rebuke. Hst’hst was attempting to wrestle a sincere apology up past her main lung when Czt’czt shook her legs out and visible dismissed the negative response.
“The winds are breathing past the spires,” she said, lifting three appendages as if she could feel the wind in the tunnel. “The air will taste like life, and we have a human friend to describe the stars to us!”
Hst’hst took the hint as the human said and waited only the polite six seconds to respond with the same emotional paw.
“It will be wonderful to run my claws through the sand,” she agreed. “Three on my right side have grown ragged this test cycle and the sensations of the beach will be delightful.”
Czt’czt angled her abdomen at Hst’hst, bringing her primary cone of vision to bear. For several long seconds the twitching of her mandibles indicated that Czt’czt was going to say something in response. If Hst’hst’s past experience was any guide something about artistic appreciation of relaxation and the soulless pawing of an engineer. However the calming pause did its work and Czt’czt decided to end the conversation there. They reached the exit and trotted out onto the platform.
Below them stretched the massive emptiness of a human-functional transpiration node. Powerful winds smelling of mammal blew down corridors with rigid, stone like walls. Brightly colored art of a broad, splotchy type chosen by the human decorators faded into indistinct, but still pleasant patterns in the distance. Human Friend Paloma was sitting on one of the ‘benches’ massive shelves meant for humans to fold their bodies onto to give them rest from the constant strain of their bipedal swaying.
Czt’czt rushed ahead waving a little silver patch of silk she kept on hand just for getting human attention. The flashing of the silver cloth caught Human Friend Paloma’s attention and she unfolded herself to her standing height, as she did so, shoving something into her backpack.
“Ready for a sunset on the lake?” Human Friend Paloma called out waving.
Hst’hst scrambled forward and the two Trisk eagerly settled on the human’s shoulders. Human Friend Paloma walked down the steps of the platform, the ‘falling’ sensation of going down stairs on a human was very different, more terrifying, than simply walking. They held on tight with all talons until Human Friend Paloma’s feet found the broad, sandy trail – a highway by Trisk standards- that led down to the lake shore. The trees sped by until they opened out to the warm, hazy light of the beach. Hst’hst could just see the net-fence that kept the local predators out of their recreational area at the rim of her distance vision. Human Friend Paloma examined the uniform stretch of beach for some mysterious combination of sand and distance from the water that would make a ‘good’ place to set down. This process done the human folded herself down and began writhing around to take her backpack off.
Hst’hst and Czt’czt took this as her usual less that perfectly polite signal that the ride was over and scrambled down into the sand. They took the time to make sure that they were in the human’s narrow cone of vision and Hst’hst began vigorously running her claws through the sand. As she had anticipated the sensation was delightful. The sand was warm and the abrasion was perfect, catching the rough edges of her claws just right. Czt’czt was turning slow circles, pulling the sand up into a perfect abdominal couch. Once she settled she would begin basking in the natural wonder, or some such thing that planning architects considered necessary.
As her claws began to smooth Hst’hst was distracted by the sound of a steady clicking. It gradually became clear that it was originating from just over the curve of Human Friend Paloma’s leg. Curious, Hst’hst trotted out a little further so she could see over the leg. Human Friend Paloma held two massive spikes and was using them to coil long soft-fiber into a loose cloth. Hst’hst waved to Czt’czt, catching both her and Human Friend Paloma’s attention.
“It would appear that I am not the only one who brought work to the beach,” Hst’hst said in deliberately loud tones.
“What are you talking about?” Human Friend Paloma asked, tilting her head to one side even as the spikes kept clicking.
“You brought that work task with you to our recreation time,” Hst’hst said, tilting a meaningful angle at Czt’czt.
“This isn’t work,” Human Friend Paloma said with a surprised tone. “This scarf is pure recreation.”
Hst’hst and Czt’czt paused, waiting for clarification. When none came Czt’czt stepped hesitantly forward.
“Human Friend Paloma,” she said. “You are in charge of making sure the human cloth weavers in this area are developing different methods, right?”
“That’s my job,” Human Friend Paloma agreed.
“Then how is this not part of your work?” Czt’czt pressed.
“Well, I’m not getting paid for one,” Human Friend Paloma said. “Two, I like it.”
“Isn’t the point of recreation time to rest from, doing work?” Czt’czt asked.
“Well,” Human Friend Paloma said with a wide grin. “There’s the third point. Responsibility and expectations. No one is making me do this, there is nothing on the line. I just want to.”
“And that is enough of a difference to make doing the same thing be work or recreation?” Czt’czt asked.
Human Friend Paloma nodded and then went back to glancing between her not-work and the distant sky. Czt’czt made a gesture of confusion to Hst’hst with one paw, but Hst’hst only shrugged and resumed running her paws through the sand. At least this meant that Czt’czt would no longer be treating her like a fuzzy little one.

Author Betty Adams Books
Amazon!
Barnes & Noble
Powell's Books
Google Play Books
Kobo By Rakuten

Youtube
BitChute
Odysee
Rumble
Veoh

]]><![CDATA[Humans are Weird - Not Hunger]]>Mon, 06 Apr 2026 19:58:29 GMThttps://www.authorbettyadams.com/bettys-blog/humans-are-weird-not-hunger

Humans are Weird - Not Hunger

Sift shifted her scutes again in the depression her own weight made in the mattress. Soft mass pushed into her from every side almost like dry sand but with not a singe one of sand’s benefits. She absently reached out with her teeth and gripped the blanket, tugging it back into a reasonable position for what felt like the seventh time that night. Suddenly, from the next room came a strangely high growl that spoke of mammalian aggression.
Sift instantly went still, her tongue flicking out to lick her lips like a hatchling. She felt a surge of hope that perhaps even if she had woken Mary, the young mother would just roll over and go back to sleep. However the sound of a wooden frame creaking, the thump of blankets being thrown on the floor, and the the off-cadence thumping of sleepy human footsteps told her that the damage was done. Sift attempted to lift her chin over the edge of the mattress, and only managed to dig her paws deeper into the mass. It took several minutes of clawing and thrashing (being mindful that her claws didn’t tear the material) before she remembered that such a surface needed to be treated like quicksand and she managed to slither her way over the edge and onto the blessed relief of the solid floor, wood though it was.
Sift was mindfully sifting out the proper words for her apology when the mental gears slipped their teeth. She sniffed the air and her tongue smacked against her teeth as the scent of frying avian eggs drifted into the room. Sift increased her pace and rounded the wall into the kitchen just as Mary was scraping a steaming yellow mass into a plate. The human’s long hair was ‘frizzled’, sticking out in every direction. There were dark circles under her eyes. The sound of her molars grinding together was clearly audible. Sift suddenly remember her intent and swallowed down the saliva.
Mary glanced up and squinted at her and then gave a rueful smile.
“Oh sorry Sift,” she said. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
Sift gave a little grunt of surprise as Mary stumbled to the table and began to devour the eggs with a speed and lack of coordination that spoke of real hunger. Mary paused her meal long enough to squint at Sift again.
“There’s more if you want them,” Mary suggested, pointing to the pan with a fork full of the yellow mass.
Sift gladly scrambled over to the kitchen stool and pushed it up to the stove. She hopped up and served herself a plat of the eggs. Gripping it in her teeth she carefully slid down from the stool and walked over to the table. They ate in a companionable silence for several moments before Mary reached the end of her eggs and leaned back with a relieved sigh.
“I had thought you had already reached your required caloric limit today,” Sift observed around a mouthful of the rich protein.
Mary gave a hollow laugh and leaned back in her chair.
“And then some,” she agreed. “It’s just, with Aunt Ethel and...and everything. You know.” Mary finished with a vague wave of her hand.
“I do not know,” Sift corrected her.
Mary blinked at her slowly and wiped the cooking grease from her fingers onto her long sleep-shirt. Mary heaved a sigh and nodded.
“Right, so you know my Aunt Ethel had to go to the University Health Station?” the human asked.
Sift gave a rumble of confirmation.
“Well she is old,” Mary said. “She is one of the last of the first generation of colonists. She, well this wasn’t the big one, this time, but we all know it isn’t far off.”
Sift suspected she was missing several details but she felt she understood the main point.
“The slow fermentation of the generations,” she commented.
Mary nodded.
“Well my cousin found her not breathing,” Mary said. “That...that’s serious for mammals you know. Then she, my cousin, had to manually keep her breathing until the medical transport arrived, and that’s really...stressful, with the elderly, they have fragile bones, and I coiuldn’t help directly because of the baby so I ended up managing communications. Making sure everyone knew what was going on.”
Mary paused and prodded at her now empty plate with her fork.
“And she’s fine now,” Mary said slowly. “Fine for now, but the stress caught up to me.”
Sift let the silence brew for several minutes as she ground the conversation between her teeth.
“So this stress is why you are eating triple your normal caloric intake?” Sift finally asked.
Mary gave a bark of laughter and grinned over at her.
“There’s chocolate cake in the refrigeration unit,” Mary said. “Let’s try for quadruple before I try to get back to sleep.”

Author Betty Adams Books
Amazon!
Barnes & Noble
Powell's Books
Google Play Books
Kobo By Rakuten

Youtube
BitChute
Odysee
Rumble
Veoh

]]><![CDATA[Humans are Weird – Competitive Gliding- Audio Narration - Book 4 - Humans are Weird: I Did the Math]]>Tue, 31 Mar 2026 17:55:33 GMThttps://www.authorbettyadams.com/bettys-blog/humans-are-weird-competitive-gliding-audio-narration-book-4-humans-are-weird-i-did-the-math

Humans are Weird - Competitive Gliding - Audio Narration

“I must admit,” Thirty-four Trills said as he shuffled the stack of datapads that he held in his wingfolds, “being stationed on a base with humans has certainly expanded and condensed my understanding of the Ranger Corps safety regulations.”
“One either flies or falls in this sort of situation,” the base commander agreed as he held out a winghook for the next datapad.
“Have you found any regulation yet that even begins to cover the situation?” Thrity-four Trills asked.
“Yes,” the commander said with a tired sigh. “The vast majority of the regulations about disrupting flight space do cover this situation to some degree.”
“But?” Thirty-four Trills asked as he began to sort through some sub-files on interspecies insults.
“They are all meant to cover serious violations,” the commander said as he shifted his datapads around in tired confusion. “There is nothing that is really applicable to a wing of junior rangers blowing off steam in a method that is so ultimately harmless.”
“I wouldn’t call casing great masses of half directed chaff into the main personal flight path exactly harmless,” Thirty-four Trills pointed out.
“Tell me,” the commander said with a sigh as he reached up to rub his sensory horns, “is there a single hair’s weight of malice or aforethought in the humans’ actions.”
“To be right on the wind’s edge,” Thirty-four Trills said with a dry rasp, “I highly doubt that there is any thought involved at all.”
The commander gave a dry chuckle and shoved the datapads away from him.
“This really is my fault,” he said as he walked over to the window and looked out at the soft green floor of the quad.
The majority of the human component of the training base were scattered across the ground cover wearing the minimum amount of clothing that their culture allowed. They had dragged out the massive recycling bin to the middle of the quad and a few were vigorously sorting though the waste in search of paper of a particular density. This they then handed out to other humans who sorted it and carried it to where a line of contestants huddled over the starting line of an improvised flight test range. These humans were busily folding the paper into glide surfaces which were then hurled down the range with powerful thrusts of their thick forelimbs. Some humans went so far as to engage their entire bodies as propulsion levers. The improvised gliders flew, fell, and swerved drunkenly down the test range where they were then judged by a row of humans with recording devices.
That situation in of itself wouldn’t have been so bad. The improvised test range was a reasonably restricted area of the quad. However the rest of the humans appeared to be engaged in a purely disorganized effort of creativity that was filling the entire airspace with folded paper contraptions that slewed, glided, and dropped, making the space a flight hazard more nearly akin to a storm wind in the treetops than anything else.
“Were you able to gain any insight into what initiated this?” the commander finally asked.
“Not a chirp,” Thirty-four Trills said with a sigh. “The humans all seemed satisfied with the entertainment provided on the base. We were making sure to assign each human the suggested amount of vigorous outdoor walking tasks. None of them has mentioned this activity in public at least that we could record.”
“How did this start again?” the commander asked, waving a winghook at the chaos outside the window.
The both flinched as a heavier bodied craft slammed into the window. This one seemed to have some sort of polymer band attached to a primitive propeller surface.
“Dear mothertree,” Thirty-four Trills muttered in horror, “They are adding extended propulsion to them now.”
The commander gave an irritated chirp and Thirty-four Trills flapped his attention back to the superior officer.
“Specialist Schmidt,” he said quickly. “He was sweeping out the bay where the recycling bin is kept. There was a fragment of paper on the floor too big for the broom to handle so he bent over to pick it up manually. He seemed to pause and consider it for a moment, then, instead of putting it in the smaller recycling bin he folded it into a glide surface and attempted to glide it into the open top of the bin. He missed the toss repeatedly and was observed by Specialist Psmith who suggested a modification to the glide surface. That mod didn’t work so they began to trouble shoot other designs.”
“And at no point did it occur to them to just place the paper in the smaller bin?” the commander asked.
“Apparently not,” Thirty-four Trills replied. “Eventually other humans observed them and attempted to help. This required more paper which they procured from the main recycling bin, and well,” Thirty-four Trills gestured to the window with a winghook, “as you can see it is a very fair day out and a general rest day.”
“They took it outside,” the commander finished as a bright yellow glider drifted past the window.
“They took it outside,” Thirty-four Trills confirmed.
“If we can’t find a regulation by sundown I will write one myself,” the commander said as he bent back to the task at hook.

Humans are Weird: I Did the Math
https://www.indiegogo.com/en/projects/bettyadams-20737048/humans-are-weird-i-did-the-math
The punishment should fit the crime. You only live once. Work hard, play hard.
Humans have a lot of weird little sayings like that. How will our little green friends deal with them once we expand into space? And how will the deal with the human psychology who thought them up?
Find out in the fourth book of human absurdity:
Humans are Weird: I Did the Math
Available on Indiegogo March 2026!
Click the link to follow now!
Humans are Weird: I Did the Math by Betty Adams - Indiegogo
https://www.indiegogo.com/en/projects/bettyadams-20737048/humans-are-weird-i-did-the-math

Author Betty Adams Books
Amazon!
Barnes & Noble
Powell's Books
Google Play Books
Kobo By Rakuten

]]><![CDATA[Humans are Weird – Cold Shock - Audio Narration - Book 4 - Humans are Weird: I Did the Math]]>Mon, 30 Mar 2026 17:14:32 GMThttps://www.authorbettyadams.com/bettys-blog/humans-are-weird-cold-shock-audio-narration-book-4-humans-are-weird-i-did-the-math

Humans are Weird - Cold Shock - Audio Narration

Brilliant blue light seared down through the atmosphere, bounced through the leafless branches, and fell, piercing the leg-thick ice beneath them. Around the edge of the small ice field mounds of the dry, fluffy snow formed a perimeter where the clearing process had pushed what had once covered the pond.
First Aunt felt her antenna twitching against the flexible covering that protected them from the Ultraviolet rays. She was mostly certain that the symptom was psychosomatic. She angled her head to take another subtle look at First Sister. The eldest daughter of the tenuous new hive was but half grown. The sturdy green thermal insulation that swathed her from her toes to her antenna tips gave her a comical appearance and from the bulge around her neck her frill kept trying to extend against the material. Her neck tube was nearly slipping out of her lower harness and First Aunt strung a mental line to reset the insulating layers. However First Sister’s antenna were quite still as she stared down in fascination at the ice beneath their feet, suggesting that the bright and cheerful youngster was not feeling the maddening itching.
While First Aunt mulled over this First Sister rotated her body and waved her arm vigorously over her head. First Aunt examined the direction she was waving in and felt a flicker of annoyance as she spotted the local Ranger stomping across the hill just outside the perimeter of their hive. The human, a Seventh Brother, from a hive that had produced no females at all, was notoriously unsociable by not only human but Shatar standards. Neither Mother nor Father had been able to establish social relations with him despite the fact that his last fellow Ranger had departed weeks ago and the Corps had failed to send another. Even their adopted Grandfather had not been able to establish more than a practical trading relationship with the human. The elders of the tribe had tacitly decided to leave any further social interactions to Grandfather. It seemed that the line had not stretched down to the newest generation.
“First Sister!” First Aunt clicked out. “What is the reading on the resivore ice depth there?”
The young one scrambled a bit as she readjusted the probe in her hands. She quickly tapped the ice beneath her and it made an odd report. First Aunt’s antenna twitched hard though she wasn’t quite sure why. The probe made many sounds in response to its sounding. True she had never heard that particular combination of tink, crack, and hiss before, but she was uncertain why it filled her with such unease. Much later, she would explain to Grandfather that it was just a bad noise.
“Two millimeters!” First Sister chirped out.
“That can’t be correct,” First Aunt stated, feeling a surge of irritation. “Take it again-”
Her voice froze as still as the crystallized water around her as the anomalous reading and the strange sound coiled around her antennas.
“Stop!” She snapped out. “Come to me First Sister!”
However it was too late. First Sister had already raised the probe at First Aunt’s order and she could not have redirected the mass if she tried. It struck the ice between her forefeet and once again it made the same strange pattern. There was the tink of the metal tip striking the ice, then the crack came, long and spreading and now clearly from the ice below instead of the probe. However the last sound, the hiss of escaping air turned into a gurgle as the green water of the algal reservoir.
First Aunt scrambled towards her precious little niece, but the bulky thermal insulation slowed her, and the friction pads that kept her legs safe from sliding slowed her more. She watched in horror as First Sister’s fore-legs fell into the broken ice and First Sister chittered in agony. Almost slowly First Sister’s body tipped into the water and disappeared from view in the murky green of the algae and the ice. Despite the insulation something froze in First Aunt’s lungs. She staggered to a stop as it struck her like a blow. There was nothing she could do.
Her fingers picked almost absently at the comm device attached to her external harness. She had to tell First Mother, but what if First Father was there? What if he heard that First Sister was gone? Her fingers found her comm and she activated it, the speaker hummed to life.
“Fourth Cousin….I mean First Aunt!” Third Mother called out, ending with an unprofessional chitter of amusement at her mistake. “What is your status?”
First Aunt opened her mandible to answer but something she had been vaguely aware of suddenly forced itself into her cone of focus. The human ranger had suddenly cut his trail at nearly ninety degrees and had begun sprinting down towards them with long loping strides that lifted his feet cleanly over the snow. He had cleared the perimeter hedge by simply vaulting over it and had begun running over the pond towards the spreading green cracks, speeding up with every stried. He now began to shed the massive insulating layers he wore, dropping them on the ice in a colorful trail. By the time he reached the hole where First Sister had disappeared he was wearing nothing but the thinnest of wicking layers. He never paused as he reached the hole, instead he leapt in feat first.
“First Aunt!” Third Mother was demanding in frantic clicks. “What is going on? Why did you-”
“First Sister fell through the ice!” First Aunt was suddenly able to move and speak again.
A hissing chitter of horror came over the comm. First Aunt was scrambling towards the hole in the ice now as a faint sprout of hope bloomed in her frill.
“Human Seventh Brother has gone after her!” First Aunt explained quickly.
A chatter of frantic voices came over the line.
“I can’t understand you!” First Aunt snapped out. “Please have Fifth Cousin, I mean Second Aunt come out with the heavy mass transporter and all able bodied Cousins, Aunts, who can fully insulate themselves!”
There was an abrupt silence from the other end of the comms and then Grandfather’s soothing old voice came on.
“The orders have been given,” he stated. “Now can you tell me-”
But First Aunt cut him off with a frantic chitter. First Sister, at least her body, suddenly burst out of the water, held aloft in the massive hand of the human. With a mighty heave he tossed her out of the greenish water and onto the hard surface of the ice where she lay curled as tightly as if she had been hours dead instead of moving freely and joyously only moments before. First Aunt ran up to her and gently rotated the small body.
“First Sister is out of the water,” she said into the comms. “She is cold and stiff-”
“What about Seventh Brother?” Grandfather cut in.
Recalling the human First Aunt tilted her head back to get a focus on him. For a moment he dipped down into the water, then he surged upwards and flung his hands onto the ice. His entire body writhed as he trunk-like legs thrashed and slowly but surely came out of the green water to lay flat on the ice.
“He is out of the water too,” First Aunt stated.
“The mass transporter is in the far storage caves and will take some time to reach you, but it is on its way,” Grandfather said, his voice smoothing with relief. “How is First Sister?”
“She isn’t breathing!” First Aunt exclaimed, resting her hand on the young one’s abdomen.
Frantic chitters overwhelmed the comm for a moment, but First Aunt was distracted by the human writhing towards her across the ice. Instead of resuming his usual bipedal stance he was scrambling like an Undulates across the surface.
“Put her on my back!” He snapped out. “Got to get her dry!”
It took a moment for First Aunt to translate the human language. It was never her strongest achievement, but when she did she obeyed instantly, rolling the uninteresting form up onto the broad flat surface of the human’s back.
“Hold her there!” The human ordered as he immediately set off for the nearest edge of the pond.
First Aunt obeyed. She was uncertain how the human planned on drying off First Sister, but the concept was sound and the whole point of letting Rangers on a new hive-world was to let them help you in strange situations. Her comm was squawking out demands for information in several different voices but she ignored it and focused on balancing First Sister against the human’s writhing movements. They reached the edge of the algae pond and the human surged up and flung himself into the burm of powdery snow. He dislodged First Sister and rolled over in the stuff a few times leaving a green algal smear behind him. Then he grabbed two great handfuls of the snow and vigorously rubbed it through his hair.
First Aunt felt a glimmer of understanding. The dry, frozen snow instantly absorbed and froze the thin layer of water on his skin. She hesitantly reached down and pressed a handful of the glittering mass against First Sister. However the human had lunged to his feet and now lumbered up to her.
“Take off the insulation!” He snapped. “It’s all wet inside and we need to get her dry. I don’t know how.”
First Aunt saw the logic in that and gave a few quick tugs at the release points. It was difficult with First Sister so stiff and unyielding but they were soon loose.
“Let me!” he snapped. “Go back. Get that orange bag and bring it here quick.”
First Aunt felt a snap of irritation, but trimmed it quickly. This was why they had Rangers after all. She moved as quickly as she could across the ice while keeping an antenna curled at the human. He quickly but carefully divested First Sister of the insulating gear she was wearing and spread it flat on the snow. He had the sense not to abrade First Sister’s membrane with the ice crystals at least. His hands flew as he snatched up masses of it and would press each new handful once, quickly to her membrane before discarding the old snow for new. First Aunt found the small orange bad and was surprised and relieved to find it light weight. She hurried back to the human, whose skin had gone from brilliant red to white and was beginning to turn blue.
“Pull the tab,” he ordered.
She did, and the thing jumped out of her hands and rolled to a flat section of snow. There it rapidly expanded into a domed enclosure with a clear band that allowed light in and out. The human heaved his body up and though the markings that indicated the entrance, pulling First Sister after him. He arranged his body so his folded legs provided a fairly large surface and he set First Sister’s body on this. He reached up and squeezed a cylinder that extended from the top of the emergency shelter and it dropped down. First Aunt recognized it as a portable heater. The human hunched his thick torso around First Sister and spread his arms. First Aunt realized he was focusing all the heat on the little body. She watched in fascination and trepidation as the human’s skin turned from blue, back to white, and then to pink once again. Finally he lifted his head and blinked at her.
“Hey,” he said. “If its safe can you go get my clothes?”
“Of course!” She stated as she turned and scampered back across the refreezing ice to retrieve them.
The the human “clothes” were heavy and cumbersome with their complex layers of moisture wicking and solar and thermal radiation needed to preserve the complex human membrane and it took her some time to drag them back to the emergency shelter.
“When hers are dry shake them out and hang em on that bush,” the human ordered next.
First Aunt had to stare at him for several long moments before she understood that he meant First Sister’s thermal insulation. Again, it was a sound idea. The dry snow had indeed removed all the moisture from the layers and First Aunt found it easy to shake the excess snow off of them.
By this time she could seen the mass transporter floating towards them over the snow with the towering form of Second Aunt perched in the main seat and several others clustered behind her.
“Hey!” The human suddenly shouted, a completely different tone in his voice. “She’s twitching!”
Sure enough First Sister’s antenna were beginning to moved and her body was uncurling from the tight, deathlike shape it had been in and First Aunt felt her lung expand for what felt like the first time in hours.

Author Betty Adams Books
Amazon!
Barnes & Noble
Powell's Books
Google Play Books
Kobo By Rakuten

]]>