Betty Adams's Blog, page 60

Humans are Weird - Watch Out For the Soap

 Humans are Weird – Watch Out for the Soap


The high noon sun was casting blue light into the improvised laboratory the human First Daughter had set up in the old storage shed. Streamers of the light caught on the bundles of herbage the human had hung to dry from the support rafters and refracted through the silicate rich fibers across the far wall. Various old storage containers had been pressed into service as perches, shelving, and work surfaces. In one corner a vat large enough for a grown Shatar male to climb into bubbled in a rather ominous manner.
Third Cousin inched slightly closer to the open door as the cacophony of smells assaulted her antenna. She had come here to receive a gift given in a wholly friendly spirit. She was not about to offend a First Daughter, human or not, by refusing to accept the gift. Still, she wondered how the safety comity had allowed this combination of health hazards and fire risks to continue. Granted the place was beautiful, as long as you didn’t think too much about what you were looking at.
A pile of dusty and torn tarps in one corner suddenly shifted and emitted a very mammalian grunt. Third Cousin tilted her head to the side and clicked her mandibles uneasily. She had no idea what the protocol was for greeting a First Daughter under these conditions. Even had they been on a hive world this meeting would have been unorthodox. Out here on the frontier, dealing with a new species it was pure chaos. Why a family would even let a First Daughter out of the gardens, let alone off planet was a mystery that Third Cousin couldn’t even begin to probe.
Fortunately the pile shifted even further and the thick, fleshy arm of First Daughter emerged and shoved the tarps away. The human rolled to the side almost like an Undulate and then arched her body in a series of almost normal looking stretches under the loose overalls she wore. Normal that is if you could ignore the ‘tongue’ that curled and flexed inside of her mouth. The membranous outer coverings of First Daughter’s eyes blinked open, revealing the beautiful twin rings of her hazel irises. Her near matching hair was pulled up in a tight coil under the hat she wore.
After a few more stretches First Daughter caught a glimpse of Third Cousin in the mirror and spun around with a yelp.
“Yo Cuz!” she called out. “How long have you been watching me?”
Third Cousin tilted her angular head to the side as she tried to understand the purpose of the question.
“Since I came through the door?” She offered.
First Daughter stared at her a moment before bursting out laughing.
“No matter,” the human said. “You came for the discovery day gift right? It’s over here.”
First Daughter turned and reached up for one of a stack of packets on the top shelf. There was a waxy disc inside pressed to mimic the hive matrix of one of the primitive insects of the human home-world. The disc was translucent and when the blue sunlight caught it the lipids refracted the light in a rainbow glow. Third Cousin clicked admiration.
“It is beautiful,” she said, her frill flushing with delight.
“Thank’s,” First Daughter replied her face flushing with pleasure. “It’s granny’s own anti-microbial mix. That stuff will keep your hands clean as a whistle. The silica herbs gave it a nice scent too-don’t open it!”
The final phrase was yelped out as Third Cousin was about to slip a talon under the seal of the clear packing. She froze and her antenna curled tight in embarrassment. What social custom had she offended, she wondered?
“You have to wait two more weeks,” First Daughter hurriedly explained. “It isn’t cured yet. I would have left it on the shelf till discovery day proper but you are going to be out in the field for that week and I wanted you to have this before you left tomorrow.”
Third Cousin relaxed at the reassurance and slipped the soap into her carry pack.
“Thank you First Daughter,” she said. “Could you tell me more about the curing process? Will the anti-microbial factor not be effective before that date?”
First Daughter gave a bark of laughter as she pulled a coat out of the pile of tarps and put it over her coveralls.
“Nah,” she said. “The germ killers’ll work just fine. It’s just that the lye’ll be active for awhile and that’ll burn your skin right off it you touch it.”
Third Cousin flicked her antenna in respectful understanding as they stepped out of the shed and First Daughter closed the door behind them. The Shatar figured that a compliment would be the best way to end the conversation.
“It was very thoughtful of you to research Shatar membrane sensitivity,” she said. “I know how little humans have to fear from chemical damage.”
First Daughter glanced at her with a puzzled expression on her face.
“We might be pretty tough,” she said. “But that soap would do a dozy of a job on our skin as it is now. Lye’s sodium hydroxide ya know.”
Third Cousin couldn’t keep her frill from darkening in horror but she masterfully held her antenna at a mostly loose curl. One did not insult the intelligence of a First Daughter. Fortunately First Daughter had turned her attention back to the main compound and was chatting away about what she was going to eat for dinner. Third Cousin made a mental note to report the clandestine lab to the safety comity. There was no way they knew what was going on.  


 Thank you all so much for your updoots and feedback. It gives me the will to go on. Want to see more? Think about becoming a Patreon. Tea refuses to buy itself and the more time one has to spend on a day job the less time there is for befuddled aliens.  

Our Fathers - Mary Shelly - Mother of Monsters, Supermen, and the Universal Soldier

Humans are Weird - Wheelbarrows

 Humans are Weird – Wheelbarrows


The light was beginning to shift down into the soft,mid range oranges of evening by the time the mound of dirt was anywhere near flat. Third Sister shook out her frill in an attempt to dislodge the dust and grime that had collected there. She resisted the urge to lick off a particularly clingy bit of dirt in public and tried to focus on how the rest of the crew was coming along. The flight of Winged was circling the dig site taking readings. They were clearly flagging however. Only half of the flight members were maintaining the suggested elevation and the rest were exposing their teeth in a way that suggested they were about to forfeit their natural herbivore natures to start biting chunks out of the humans. The humans too were beginning to lag. Despite sensibly traveling along the ground they had been moving large ammounts of dirt with nothing but the simple levers and wheels that seemed to make up the base tool set of every network of humans no matter what their stated profession was.


“Third Sister?” Seventeen Trills fluttered over to her side and hovered there, not looking directly at her.
Third Sister was well aware that their sensory horns gave them essentially full circle awareness that was more accurate than simple sight but she still couldn’t help feeling a prickle of annoyance at apparently being ignored even as he requested her attention. She clicked a response in Mother out of irritation. At least the pesky little Hellbats could hear a reasonable range of sound.
“I think it might be time to rest our wings,” Seventeen Trills observed.
“I too have noticed that the extended physical labor has effected flight efficiency,” she noted. “I agree with your judgment.”
He snapped his beady black eyes around at her.
“Oh it’s not us I’m concerned about,” he said. “It’s the humans.”
“Why do you think that?” Third Sister asked, suddenly genuinely curious.
Ever since their first interactions the Winged had integrated the humans into their mythos as paragons of physical strength. She could not count the number of problems that arose medically because some Winged commander believed his humans to be near indestructible, and the humans were oddly loath to dissuade this idea. For a commander as inexperienced as Seventeen Trills to recognize human frailty in any form was something worth noting. However he seemed reluctant to speak. Another oddity that. He finally just gestured for her to follow him with his wing hook and led her around the corner of the structure they were erecting.
She saw what he was observing immediately. One of the larger humans, a Third Brother, if she remembered correctly was stopped dead in his tracks with the single-wheel mass transporter full of dirt and detritus blocking the main path. His head was tilted to the side and he was staring down at the handles of the device with a fascinated expression on his face. More importantly his skin was flushed with the pulsing of vessels trying to expel the excess mammalian heat of his body. His skin was venting copious amounts of water in an effort to evaporate away the energy.
“Third Brother?” She asked carefully as she approached him. “Are you well?”
To her growing concern he didn’t respond.
“Ranger!” Seventeen Trills snapped out. “What are you looking at?”
The human responded to that by raising his eyes to them, however the twin points didn’t focus on either of them.
“Isn’t it amazing?” he asked in a hushed tone.
“Isn’t what amazing?” Third Sister asked.
“The material sciences have advanced,” the Third Brother said with slow words, “but the basic design of the wheelbarrow has not changed in thousand of years!”
His gaze drifted over and past her frill before focusing on what the humans called the middle distance.
“Thousands!” he whispered, using only his breath to enunciated the sounds in hushed awe. “This is the same thing that our ancestors might have used thousands of years ago.”
Her frill snapped rigid with concern and Third Sister carefully stepped forward to touch the hot skin of the humans arm. Seventeen Trills fluttered around her giving out little distressed chirps of confusion.
“Do you need a nap Third Brother?” Third Sister asked in the softest tone her voice was capable of producing.
He slowly swiveled his head to face her and blinked.
“I think…” he said carefully. “I think maybe yes?”
“Seventeen Trills,” Third Sister said. “Call an end to the work day and please have the least tired of your wing escort the humans home.”
The human in front of them lifted the wheelbarrows handles and began pushing towards the transport before stopping and looking back at them with wonder in his eyes.
“I didn’t,” he began. “I mean I never experimented much as a kid you know? Is this what it’s like to be high?”
Third Sister stared at him in bewilderment until he smiled and started back up the path.  

  Thank you all so much for your updoots and feedback. It gives me the will to go on. Want to see more? Think about becoming a Patreon. Tea refuses to buy itself and the more time one has to spend on a day job the less time there is for befuddled aliens.  

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Humans are Weird---But Good Spambots are Weirder

So I got this in my inbox today.....

Hey Betty,
 
I was searching some article in the “Coating and Polymer Industry” and I came across your page: - (http://www.authorbettyadams.com/bettys-blog/humans-are-weird-rituals)
I’d say the article is a complete resource.
Just to let you know that your audience searching about the “Carbon Black” might be looking for the Technical datasheet available for download.
These datasheets can be accessible without any cost so no commercial value.
So, I recommended adding “suspicious external link" which could further help your audience.
Let me know if you need any further help
Cheers,
Paul

I’d say the article is a complete resource.
I’d say the article is a complete resource.
I’d say the article is a complete resource.

Well then. I'm flattered that my silly little science fiction story about human absurdity is "a complete resource". 

But dang, that is a pretty convincing bot. I am only protected by the complete absurdity of my content, and only warned by the fact that the sender was not horrified by the concept....

Humans are Weird - Headlines

 Humans are Weird – Headlines


Second Sister was nearly to her quarters when Twenty-Five Clicks came darting around the curve of the corridor followed by his entire flight. They were all chattering to each other in their high-pitched language that pinged off her frill and set the tips of her antenna tingling unpleasantly. She suppressed a compression and stepped to the side of the corridor, hoping that their agitation had nothing to do with her.
“Doctor!” Twenty-Five Clicks called out, barely bringing his voice down into a polite range.
Second Sister sighed and laid her frill in a neutral flatness even if she couldn’t quite control the tight curl of her antenna. The Winged were so very impolite. But she had a job to do if they were using her work title instead of her name. She cast a single longing thought towards her comfortable perch in her chambers and then turned her attention to the approaching flight.
“Base commander,” she greeted the Winged.
The thirty-odd little mammals spent a moment vying for the few surfaces on her body where they could perch and then the rest settled for clinging to the walls. They were still chattering worriedly among themselves but now their eyes were focused on their wing leader. Twenty-Five Clicks was clearly taking a moment to compose himself by grooming his sensory horns with his winghooks. Second Sister waited for him to finish with what she hoped was patience. He finally looked up into one of her eyes and took a deep breath. He pointed one wing towards the communal work space.
“Human Friend Pierce,” he finally managed to say.
Second Sister fought the urge to extend her frill and simply began walking in the indicated direction. She should have known it would take some form of human madness to set the Winged to such frantic flight.
“What precisely is the matter with Human Friend Pierce?” she asked.
The Undulate naming system that the Winged had adapted felt sticky on her mandibles, but she knew calling First Brother by his proper name would only confuse the flight of Winged further. They were currently following her by hoping along the catwalks that lined the higher levels of the walls, avoiding flight in order to stay calm and focused. Finally one, presumable the flight medic, managed to speak.
“He has taken severe outer membrane damage,” the medic said.
Second Sister tilted her head at him sharply.
“What wasn’t this called in as a medical emergency?” She asked.
“He insisted he was fine,” Twenty-Five Clicks interjected. “And he is not listed as a stupidly stubborn human in his records. We decided to get you to come analyzed the damage before we set the alarms ringing.”
“Reasonable,” Second Sister agreed as she paced along. “Humans are famous for being able to take damage to their outer membranes.”
“Yes,” the flight medic agreed. “They are covered in that forest of micro-fauna that protects them.”
“And they have that massive layer of fat under it all too,” another pointed out.
“Landers,” Twenty-Five Clicks said in a grumbling tone.
“Is there something you are hiding from me?” Second Sister finally asked bluntly.
Tellingly the entire flight fell silent as they approached the door to the communal work area. They glanced back and forth at each other, using their narrow binocular vision to avoid her broad gaze. Finally the medic spoke up.
“We have speculation that we do not wish to share,” he explained, “as it is all but baseless.”
“I would appreciate it,” Second Sister said curtly.
“Well,” the medic squirmed from his perch on her primary joint. “The damage seems to be a reversed image of Undulate text. It appears random-”
“But you fear that he may have deliberately applied the damage to himself,” Second Sister concluded. “That it is some form of ritual scarification?”
An uncomfortable murmur spread through the flight and Twenty-Five Clicks fluffed himself out in indignation.
“Human Friend Pierce is an exemplary Ranger,” he snapped. “He would not waste time on personal decoration of any sort while on duty.”
“And this occurred while he was on duty?” Second Sister asked.
“Yes,” the medic hurriedly interjected. “He went into the tactile isolation console to work on his Undulate translation and had the damage when he came out.”
“I thought he was doing field work today?” Second Sister asked.
“He had a bad night,” Twenty-Five clicks explained. “Something to do with digestion and that new plant protein he tried yesterday, and he didn’t feel that he was competent to maneuver the transport safely. So he decided to work on his training.”
Second Sister clicked thoughtfully to herself as she opened the door. First Brother was at the far side of the large open space sipping a cup of the common human stimulant. He was slumping against the counter in that nearly Undulate way humans had when they were extremely tired. She eyed him critically.
“Where exactly is this damage?” She asked the Winged.
“Right on his face,” Twenty-Five Clicks said. “The wide fleshy part.”
Second Sister gave a confused click and paced forward to get closer to the human. She heard a chatter of confusion start up among the Winged as they approached the human and the sound seemed to catch his notice. He lifted his head and blinked at them slowly.
“Second Sis,” he greeted her before letting his oral cavity gape in an attempt to draw in more oxygen.
“First Brother,” she replied with a polite tilt of her head.
He returned the gesture, causing the light to fall over one side of his face and she suddenly saw the damage the Winged had seen. There were indeed many reversed lines of the sprawling Undulate language imprinted on his epidermis.
“It was way worse!” one of the Winged above her insisted.
“What was worse lil guy?” First Brother asked, squinting up at him.
“Your face,” Second Sister informed him.
He stared blankly at her and she reached up to grasp his chin with one hand, turning his face to examine the damage. His eyes tracked hers in that rolling, disconcerted way humans did for a few seconds until he burst out laughing.
“Something’s wrong with my face?” he asked.
“You have taken damage,” she replied. “It looks like pressure damage.”
The human gave one of those deep lunged grunts that only his giant mammalian lungs could produce and easily pulled his chin out of her grasp. He turned to the reflective surface of the nutrient warming device and titled his head to get a look at the fading marks.
“Ah,” he said, “I fell asleep while practicing Undulate touch writing. The reversed grooves must have left these marks.”
“Do they pose any danger to you?” Second Sister asked.
“Nah,” the human dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. “S’like corduroy line or whatnot.”
“That give me no relevant information,” Second Sister pointed out.
First Brother stared at her with blank, unfocused eyes for several long moments, giving Second Sister plentiful time to assess the situation. The Winged were still disturbed and the human was clearly not operating at full mental capacity.
“First Brother,” she said firmly. “It is my opinion as the base medic that you should spend the rest of the day resting in your quarters.”
“But,” whatever First Brother was about to say in protest was lost in a massive yawn that seemed to stretch out his spine and curl his entire body in odd directions.
“Maybe you got a point,” he said when the yawn was done. “I’ll get back to bed.”
“And this flight will escort you,” Second Sister said quickly.
“Sure, sure,” First Brother said, holding out his hands invitingly as he shuffled towards the door.
The Winged followed their Human Friend Pierce eagerly, abandoning Second Sister to the blissful silence of the now empty work space. If she hurried she might be able to make it back to her perch before there was another medical oddity.  

 Thank you all so much for your updoots and feedback. It gives me the will to go on. Want to see more? Think about becoming a Patreon.  Tea refuses to buy itself and the more time one has to spend on a day job the less time there is for befuddled aliens.  

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