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.
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.
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