Humans are Weird – Pulse
First Sister trotted along the forest path, kicking up the leaves that had fallen in the recent storm, feeling the damp soil on her toes. She stretched her neck frill out carefully, feeling the stretch of healing membrane. She would still have to avoid going out from under the canopy for several days, but there was no danger of any membrane ruptures today. She shifted the satchel on her shoulder and increased her pace, enjoying the feel of the rich forest air flowing through her spiracles. The soft, orange lights of the human hive glowed through the branches and filled her with that warm delight you got when you approached a friendly hive. Inside would be warmth, friendship, and food: even if those walls were thin wood.
First sister rounded a curve in the path and saw that Second Mother was out on the porch sitting in one of the broad, chunky human couches. From the way the human had folded her limbs under the blanket that covered her she was nursing Second Cousin Betty’s newest brother. This would be the fourth brother born to the local human hives First Sister thought: which seemed quite overdoing their blessings, even when First Sister knew that humans had almost fifth-fifty sexual reproduction rates.
Human Second Mother lifted her head away from where she was presumably smiling down at her little one, and lifted her free hand in greeting. Or rather lifted the hand that was holding her insulated cup of liquid stimulant. It steamed into the cool morning air and gave off scents of tannin and sugars.
“Greetings Human Second Mother,” First Sister greeted her. “First Father has sent me to borrow some processed sugar. He asks for your lowest quality as it is only for some vineyard plants in deep shade.”
Human Second Mother beamed at her, filing the air with a wash of strong pheromones. The alien chemicals weren’t exactly like Shatar social signals, but they were close enough that First Sister felt her frill flush hot with annoyance. She was not a fresh hatchling to be clicked over by the Uncles, but she smoothed out her frill, ignoring the sting from healing membranes. Human Mothers spent longer in the stage where everyone looked like a precious hatchling to them: it wouldn’t do to get snippy about it.
“Well Betty should be up and able to show where the really processed stuff is,” Human Second Mother said, adjusting the blanket covering her child.
The human’s thick arm appeared and First Sister stopped suddenly and peered at the mass of muscle exposed by the short-sleeved shirt the human wore. The Shatar then glanced up at the human’s ear, and then flared out her fill and antenna listening carefully. The human took a sip from her drink and raised her eyebrows, the equivalent of curling one antenna and tilting her head.
“Did you recently get new audio-media technology Human Second Mother?” First Sister Asked in response to the kinesthetic comment.
Human Second Mother’s face smoothed out in a show of mild perplexity.
“No,” the human said slowly, “and what makes you think I did?”
“From they way your ‘bicep’ is dancing I assumed you were listening to music,” First Sister said, shifting her satchel.
Human Second Mother blinked at her, before glancing down at the muscle group on the arm supporting her hatchling with a frown. She made a surprised sound, a quick outburst of air and took another sip of her drink.
“It does look like it’s dancing,” she admitted, “but nope, no music. I’m not doing that on purpose, no control over it really. Just a little potassium deficiency I guess. Better eat some banana chips.”
The human calmly took another sip of her drink and directed her eyes back to the forest, signaling that the conversation was over. First Sister didn’t bother trying to keep her frill from flaring up. The tiny human brother gave a disgruntled sound and Human Second Mother set her drink down to focus on him. First Sister eased herself sideways towards the door where, presumably, Human Second Cousin Betty would be able to give her the sugar she had came for, and, hopefully, explain why Human Second Mother was so non-pulsed by a group of voluntary muscles moving of their own accord.
First sister rounded a curve in the path and saw that Second Mother was out on the porch sitting in one of the broad, chunky human couches. From the way the human had folded her limbs under the blanket that covered her she was nursing Second Cousin Betty’s newest brother. This would be the fourth brother born to the local human hives First Sister thought: which seemed quite overdoing their blessings, even when First Sister knew that humans had almost fifth-fifty sexual reproduction rates.
Human Second Mother lifted her head away from where she was presumably smiling down at her little one, and lifted her free hand in greeting. Or rather lifted the hand that was holding her insulated cup of liquid stimulant. It steamed into the cool morning air and gave off scents of tannin and sugars.
“Greetings Human Second Mother,” First Sister greeted her. “First Father has sent me to borrow some processed sugar. He asks for your lowest quality as it is only for some vineyard plants in deep shade.”
Human Second Mother beamed at her, filing the air with a wash of strong pheromones. The alien chemicals weren’t exactly like Shatar social signals, but they were close enough that First Sister felt her frill flush hot with annoyance. She was not a fresh hatchling to be clicked over by the Uncles, but she smoothed out her frill, ignoring the sting from healing membranes. Human Mothers spent longer in the stage where everyone looked like a precious hatchling to them: it wouldn’t do to get snippy about it.
“Well Betty should be up and able to show where the really processed stuff is,” Human Second Mother said, adjusting the blanket covering her child.
The human’s thick arm appeared and First Sister stopped suddenly and peered at the mass of muscle exposed by the short-sleeved shirt the human wore. The Shatar then glanced up at the human’s ear, and then flared out her fill and antenna listening carefully. The human took a sip from her drink and raised her eyebrows, the equivalent of curling one antenna and tilting her head.
“Did you recently get new audio-media technology Human Second Mother?” First Sister Asked in response to the kinesthetic comment.
Human Second Mother’s face smoothed out in a show of mild perplexity.
“No,” the human said slowly, “and what makes you think I did?”
“From they way your ‘bicep’ is dancing I assumed you were listening to music,” First Sister said, shifting her satchel.
Human Second Mother blinked at her, before glancing down at the muscle group on the arm supporting her hatchling with a frown. She made a surprised sound, a quick outburst of air and took another sip of her drink.
“It does look like it’s dancing,” she admitted, “but nope, no music. I’m not doing that on purpose, no control over it really. Just a little potassium deficiency I guess. Better eat some banana chips.”
The human calmly took another sip of her drink and directed her eyes back to the forest, signaling that the conversation was over. First Sister didn’t bother trying to keep her frill from flaring up. The tiny human brother gave a disgruntled sound and Human Second Mother set her drink down to focus on him. First Sister eased herself sideways towards the door where, presumably, Human Second Cousin Betty would be able to give her the sugar she had came for, and, hopefully, explain why Human Second Mother was so non-pulsed by a group of voluntary muscles moving of their own accord.
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