Humans are Weird - Smooth
Quilx’tch trembled to the tip of every paw with the pure audacity of what he was doing. Not only was he going to interrupt a colleague at work, he was calling another colleague from the next lab over to initiate the interruption for him. Taking a deep breath that expanded his abdomen Quilx’tch activated the comm unit.
“Yo, Psmith here,” came the deep, gruff voice.
“Chef Psmith?” Quilx’tch began. “I was wondering if you could perhaps come help me with that little difficulty we discussed?”
“Who’s this?” the voice demanded.
Quilx’tch paused in shock and a bit of offense. They had spent an entire meal break discussing the issue yesterday. However diplomatic protocol insisted on treating every question as in good faith.
“This is Quilx’tch-”
“Ah! Quick buddy!” the voice boomed. “This about your lab-mate with the issue?”
A silence long enough to almost be polite followed the interruption.
“Yes,” Quilx’tch replied into the slight sizzling sound in the background. “Human Friend Tupa is displaying the behavior again and it is threatening to delay the production of the ‘brownies’ and I am very eager to-”
“I’ll be down there in a jiffy,” the voice cut in. “Don’t tell Tupes I’m coming. I’mm’a try to observe without being noticed if you catch my drift.”
The comm unit cut off and Quilx’tch tapped his hind paw in irritation and confusion. That last clause suggested, no, stated that Chef Psmith had put some sort of implied action in the communication. However every stated objective seemed clear to Quilx’tch. Either Chef Psmith was implying something that had quite slipped through Quilx’tch’s net, or the giant human was preforming that human type humor that consisted in implying the presence of more complexity than was actually there. However the human was, as always, as good as his word, and appeared through the airlock doors within moments. Human Friend Tupa was at the far end of the test kitchen whisking the flour mix that certainly did not need further mixing. After several vigorous circles with the metal whisk the human took a deep breath, spun around, and marched firmly towards the open container of legume puree on the opposite counter. The human grabbed the container in one hand, picked up the flat, spreading knife with the other and glared down at the smooth surface of the puree. Then Human Friend Tupa hesitated, her face twisted as if in pain and she gingerly set the container back on the counter before darting over to check on the oils that were melting over a slight heat. Quilx’tch didn’t know the exact thermo-storage capacity of that particular oil but he was fairly certain it should have melted by now.
“Yeah, I see the problem,” Chef Psmith said with an exasperated grunt.
“What is the problem?” Quilx’tch asked as the larger human lumbered into the narrow cone of vision that Tupa had displayed.
The smaller human started and her skin flushed bright red.
“Chef,” she said. “The brownies are coming along.”
“That’s some nice smooth nut-butter,” Chef Psmith said snatching the container up, his long fingers warping almost entirely around the container.
Human Friend Tupa flushed an even brighter red and bent over the very much melted oil.
“Yes,” she agreed in a small voice.
Chef Psmith picked up the spreading knife with a snort and shoved it into the container, gave it a few quick turns, disturbing the smooth surface of the puree, and slammed it down on the counter beside Human Friend Tupa. She glanced at the container and snatched it up with a happy sound.
“Thank you!” she called out as she began adding the puree to the brownie mix with almost reckless abandon.
Chef Psmith gave a dismissive wave over his shoulder as he stomped out of the room. Quilx’tch watched in fascination as Human Friend Tupa now happily darted about preparing to put the brownies in the oven. Suddenly his comm unit chimed.
“Hey Quick?” Chef Psmith’s voice came over the unit in an oddly subdued tone. “Do me a favor and don’t mention this to anyone else until I can talk to Tupa privately and maybe get her to talk to the base psychologist.”
“Oh dear,” Quilx’tch said, watching Human Friend Tupa hurry about her tasks. “Was she displaying medically relevant behavior?”
“Eh, not so much,” Chef Psmith said. “I mean, I ain’t got the quals to say one way up or down. But she just wasted two days because she didn’t want to disturb a perfectly smooth nut-butter.”
“And that is and odd impulse for a trained chef,” Quilx’tch observed.
“Not by half!” Chef Psmith said with a dismissive snort. “A nice perfect machine pour like that? Shame to disrupt it. Silly as string of course, but a perfectly natural impulse. But if you let that impulse interfere with cooking, well butter in the freezer as they say.”
Chef Psmith ended the conversation and Human Friend Tupa called Quilx’tch over with happy eagerness in her voice to taste the brownie batter before she put it in the oven. Quilx’tch waved to signal he had heard and trotted over the raised spider-walk as he mulled over Chef Psmith’s words. Putting aside his growing suspicion that Chef Psmith deliberately made up sayings to confuse him, the concept that humans would place value on a flat, machine produced surface, one made not for purpose but merely as the inadvertent behavior of semi-liquid flow, was more than enough to keep his mental paws busy.
“Yo, Psmith here,” came the deep, gruff voice.
“Chef Psmith?” Quilx’tch began. “I was wondering if you could perhaps come help me with that little difficulty we discussed?”
“Who’s this?” the voice demanded.
Quilx’tch paused in shock and a bit of offense. They had spent an entire meal break discussing the issue yesterday. However diplomatic protocol insisted on treating every question as in good faith.
“This is Quilx’tch-”
“Ah! Quick buddy!” the voice boomed. “This about your lab-mate with the issue?”
A silence long enough to almost be polite followed the interruption.
“Yes,” Quilx’tch replied into the slight sizzling sound in the background. “Human Friend Tupa is displaying the behavior again and it is threatening to delay the production of the ‘brownies’ and I am very eager to-”
“I’ll be down there in a jiffy,” the voice cut in. “Don’t tell Tupes I’m coming. I’mm’a try to observe without being noticed if you catch my drift.”
The comm unit cut off and Quilx’tch tapped his hind paw in irritation and confusion. That last clause suggested, no, stated that Chef Psmith had put some sort of implied action in the communication. However every stated objective seemed clear to Quilx’tch. Either Chef Psmith was implying something that had quite slipped through Quilx’tch’s net, or the giant human was preforming that human type humor that consisted in implying the presence of more complexity than was actually there. However the human was, as always, as good as his word, and appeared through the airlock doors within moments. Human Friend Tupa was at the far end of the test kitchen whisking the flour mix that certainly did not need further mixing. After several vigorous circles with the metal whisk the human took a deep breath, spun around, and marched firmly towards the open container of legume puree on the opposite counter. The human grabbed the container in one hand, picked up the flat, spreading knife with the other and glared down at the smooth surface of the puree. Then Human Friend Tupa hesitated, her face twisted as if in pain and she gingerly set the container back on the counter before darting over to check on the oils that were melting over a slight heat. Quilx’tch didn’t know the exact thermo-storage capacity of that particular oil but he was fairly certain it should have melted by now.
“Yeah, I see the problem,” Chef Psmith said with an exasperated grunt.
“What is the problem?” Quilx’tch asked as the larger human lumbered into the narrow cone of vision that Tupa had displayed.
The smaller human started and her skin flushed bright red.
“Chef,” she said. “The brownies are coming along.”
“That’s some nice smooth nut-butter,” Chef Psmith said snatching the container up, his long fingers warping almost entirely around the container.
Human Friend Tupa flushed an even brighter red and bent over the very much melted oil.
“Yes,” she agreed in a small voice.
Chef Psmith picked up the spreading knife with a snort and shoved it into the container, gave it a few quick turns, disturbing the smooth surface of the puree, and slammed it down on the counter beside Human Friend Tupa. She glanced at the container and snatched it up with a happy sound.
“Thank you!” she called out as she began adding the puree to the brownie mix with almost reckless abandon.
Chef Psmith gave a dismissive wave over his shoulder as he stomped out of the room. Quilx’tch watched in fascination as Human Friend Tupa now happily darted about preparing to put the brownies in the oven. Suddenly his comm unit chimed.
“Hey Quick?” Chef Psmith’s voice came over the unit in an oddly subdued tone. “Do me a favor and don’t mention this to anyone else until I can talk to Tupa privately and maybe get her to talk to the base psychologist.”
“Oh dear,” Quilx’tch said, watching Human Friend Tupa hurry about her tasks. “Was she displaying medically relevant behavior?”
“Eh, not so much,” Chef Psmith said. “I mean, I ain’t got the quals to say one way up or down. But she just wasted two days because she didn’t want to disturb a perfectly smooth nut-butter.”
“And that is and odd impulse for a trained chef,” Quilx’tch observed.
“Not by half!” Chef Psmith said with a dismissive snort. “A nice perfect machine pour like that? Shame to disrupt it. Silly as string of course, but a perfectly natural impulse. But if you let that impulse interfere with cooking, well butter in the freezer as they say.”
Chef Psmith ended the conversation and Human Friend Tupa called Quilx’tch over with happy eagerness in her voice to taste the brownie batter before she put it in the oven. Quilx’tch waved to signal he had heard and trotted over the raised spider-walk as he mulled over Chef Psmith’s words. Putting aside his growing suspicion that Chef Psmith deliberately made up sayings to confuse him, the concept that humans would place value on a flat, machine produced surface, one made not for purpose but merely as the inadvertent behavior of semi-liquid flow, was more than enough to keep his mental paws busy.
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