Betty Adams's Blog, page 64

Humans are Weird - Cutting Loose

Humans are Weird – Cutting Loose 

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. 


“Do understand,” Base Commander Fifteenth Trill said as gently as he could, “we just want to understand.”

The human in front of him slouched in the chair. She very deliberately glanced to the window. The massive rings of muscle in her odd, concentric eyes contracted as she focused on the branches of a tree in the middle distance. Her massive digits began to writhe. They twined with their mates on the other hand and untwined again. She shifted her center of mass and glanced at him out of the corners of her eyes.

Base Commander Fifteenth Trill recalled his psychology training and squared his primary joints on either side of his head. He tilted his head up to put his sensory horn on display and fixed the human with what he hopped was a firm stare. He needed to let the silence be his ally. Humans couldn’t stand being quietly watched. Hopefully he was reading this situation correctly. After a moment the human heaved an unnecessarily loud sigh and hunched her shoulders.

“Don’ know,” she said. “Sir.” She threw out as an afterthought.

“Let us review the facts then,” Fifteenth Trill said, pulling up the report on his tablet.

The human winced and glanced at him furtively before returning her gaze to the tree.

“Now you are rated as a mechanic,” Fifteenth Trill stated.

“Yeah,” the human confirmed.

“You are not rated as a biologist in any biology sub-field?” Fifteenth Trill asked.

“Not a bit,” the human agreed as a smile flitted across her face and then flew off.

“Yet you spent no small amount of your private funds to requisition the collection of over five thousand,” he hesitated over the complex scientific name of the species.

The human’s interested perked up and she openly grinned as she looked at him.

“Crabbits!” she said in an eager tone. “Cuz’ they look like little crabby crickets!”

“Crabbits,” Fifteenth Trill agreed. “You commissioned the collection of over five thousand crabbits and received the delivery of said at seventh hour this morning at atmospheric shuttle dock seven.”

“Could’a been seven,” the human said with a shrug. “I didn’t exactly notice.”

“I sound,” Fifteenth Trill replied. “Nevertheless you then took the container of crabbits and-“
“It was cold,” she interjected. “I took ‘em to the cafeteria to warm up first.”
Fifteenth Trill stared blankly at her for a moment, taking in the smug smile, the frank admission of premeditation, and the utterly unapologetic glint in her concentric eyes.
“You took them to the cafeteria to warm up,” Fifteenth Trill repeated as he added that note to the log.
“Yeah,” the human bobbed her head eagerly. “They don’t move much when their cold ya’ see! So I warmed ‘em up so they were nice and ready to bolt when the first bell rang.”

Fifteenth Trill heaved a sigh and turned back to his log.

“So you very deliberately waited until the first break of the day,” he said, “and went to the primary traffic juncture of the base during the busiest time locus, and released the warmed crabbits into the hallway.”

The human began spasming with barely suppressed laughter as he finished.

“You should’a seen the Trisk!” She gasped out. “I didn’t know those little legs could move that fast!”

“Which,” Fifteenth Trill said firmly, trying to get the conversation back on track, “brings us back to my original question. Why did you do it?”

The humor slowly faded out of the human’s flushed face and she slumped back in the chair. Her shoulders shrugged again.

“Don’ know,” she said, tossing her chin defiantly.

Fifteenth Trill gave a low groan and regretted not pressing harder for that Shatar personnel officer he had been denied. 

Humans are Weird - A Bit of Damage

​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. 


Humans are Weird – A Bit of Damage

“Yo! Fives!” First Field Ranger called out.

Fifth Sister let her frill ripple in amused irritation at the shortening of her designation and the friendly imposition it showed.  She tilted her head to focus on the approaching human and shifted her tablet to reach a hand out in greeting.

“Yo.” She awkwardly used the informal greeting. “First Field Ranger. How are you?”

“Fair to middling,” First Field Ranger answered, swinging the mug of coffee he was drinking with one hand while his other was clamped tightly to his side.

Fifth Sister curled her antenna in suspicion as she realized that the human was holding the mug in his left hand. He was still dressed in the full membrane covering that they wore under their extravehicular activity suits. The tight angle of his lips suggested the rigid control they used when hiding some emotion.

“I was wondering if you could pop over to the storage bay and take a look at my suit?” the human went on. “Took a bit of damage while I was out this morning and I want to know how long it’ll be out of commission.”

“That is well within my duties,” Fifth Sister said slowly.

The human was clearly hiding something. She wasn’t sure what but she had enough experience with the species for her frill edge to be prickling. She just wasn’t sure at what yet, other than that the distinctly asymmetrical First Field Ranger was using his non-dominant hand when his dominant hand was clearly free.

“Great!” The human bobbed his head eagerly. “Can you have that done by lunch? If you can then I’ll send the data to the fab-bay for parts but I have things to do and places to go before then.”

“I can fit that in my schedule,” she said.

“You’re a life saver Fives!” the human called out before pivoting and strolling down the corridor.

Fifth Sister flicked her antenna in irritation. Rudeness aside, the human’s bipedal stride also displayed the strange, overly controlled movements that his facial expression had.  She flicked out her antenna in frustration and continued to the storage bay. The stench of evaporated poly-carbons caused her antenna to curl as the doors cycled open. The source of the reek wasn’t hard to find. The human’s suit was hanging on the storage rack. The armor plating was missing a significant portion of the mass it had boasted this morning.
Fifth Sister crossed the bay slowly, her frill and antenna extending in shock. She reached out and spread her digits over the damaged surface. She couldn’t reach the outer edge of even the central portion of the damage. The armor had clearly taken an energy blast, perhaps a stray laser discharge, the inspection should tell her. Whatever the cause, the outer layer had experienced a massive evaporative explosion incident.

“The force would have torn outer membrane,” she clicked to herself.

She shook out her frill and reminded herself that this was a human she was dealing with. Membrane damage meant very little to them. It was that peculiar calcium rich endoskeleton that would have taken the blunt force damage.  She recalled the odd position of First Field Ranger’s dominant hand. As if it had been offering support to something internal.

Fifth Sister clicked her mandible in frustration as she activated the scanners on her tablet. Of course her work would be done by the time First Field Ranger returned. However analysis and repair of damaged materials was not her only function. She dialed up the medical bay as she worked.

“Greetings Third Sister,” she said politely, “I suspect that First Field Ranger is attempting to hide an endoskeleton fracture.”

On the screen Third Sister’s antenna barely flicked with surprise.

“Where will be the best place to catch him?” Third Sister asked.

“I suggest you conceal yourself near the chocolate,” Fifth Sister advised. “They seem most vulnerable there.” 

Humans are Weird - A Hole in One

Humans are Weird – A Hole in One

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. 


“It is a tradition of course,” Wavesreach explained as she adjusted the cap over her gripping appendages and shifted the kilt to an easier position on her lagging end.

“Traditions are not easily explained even to member of your own species let alone others,” Wavesreach went on in cheerful tones that were utterly devoid of gestures.

Rolls-slowly tried to shake the uncanny valley sensation that caused in him.

“Hand me the lagging appendage cutting implement please,” Wavesreach gestured at the item encased in the fibrous cloth.

Rolls-slowly passed it over.

“Sock-knife,” he corrected.

Wavesreach gave a gesture of confusion as she slipped the tube and its dangerous contents over her lagging appendage.

“I heard Human Friend Bree call it a Scottish sock knife,” he explained.

Wavesreach gave a hum of acknowledgement as she pulled the sack called a sporran up to her midpoint and tightened the straps that held it down.

“And this is the traditional dress for this occasion?” He asked, unable to shake the dubious feeling.

“Human Friend MacCloud assured me it was as practicably accurate as her gran could make it,” she said. “How to I feel?”

She shuffled around to display the outfit, waving her much roughened gripping appendages to show how free for motion they were.

“You feel very, very strange” Rolls-slowly replied with as much honesty as he could muster.

Wavesreach positively rippled with humor even as several appendages adjusted the kilt to keep it and the sporran in place.

“Now what is my role in this game?” he asked.

“The sport requires so much equipment that a secondary player position was invented simply to carry it all,” she explained. “Therefore my gripping appendage will be free to wield the …”

“The club,” he offered handing her the long, skinny tool. “Shouldn’t they have scaled down the size, or at least the mass for you? They did with the uniform.”

“They offered,” Wavesreach replied with a dismissive shrug. “But I wanted to get a feel for the game as it’s supposed to be played first. As the requirements are all in clenching and gripping strength I have a hypothesis that I might be able to compete directly in this sport.”

She took the club and demonstrated with a few brief gestures what she meant. Rolls-slowly backed away from the lashing bar of carbon enforced steel at his fastest shuffle.

“This caddy job,” he asked uneasily. “It can be done from a safe distance of course?”

“Of course,” she replied cheerfully as she slid the club back into its sheath. “The equipment sheath is motorized and will follow you so all you have to do is pull out the clubs and bring the ones I ask for. I won’t be swinging then.”

“I did have a question about the scoring,” he said as they began to amble towards where the humans were waiting.

She gave him a gesture to continue.

“Counting the number of times you give a full gesture of the club at the ball per successful attempts to angle the ball into the hole seems empirical enough,” Rolls-slowly went on.  “But how do I score the profanity ratio?”

“I have no idea,” Wavesreach said cheerfully. “You have memorized the list of human profanities and their proper usage?”

“I have notes to check,” he replied.

“That will have to do,” she consented. “Just ask the human caddy if you’re not sure how to score me there. Also I will stick only to human profanities for this game. That should keep it simple.”

“What if the human begins using our profanities?” Rolls-slowly asked in concern.
​
“That is her caddy’s concern,” Wavesreach said dismissively. “Now come on. I want to prove today that I have the stamina for all eighteen vectors! Maybe next time she’ll agree to play with sand traps!” 

Do You Need Some Pretty Pictures?

After well over a decade of photographing any old cool thing that came in my path I've decided to put the summation of my efforts up on Adobe for sale. If you ever feel the need to buy far to may macro photos of bugs, sunsets, and flowers head on over and see if there's anything you like. 

October 30th, 2019

Observations

Day One: No sightings of subject designated New Neighbor 4. Place of residence, blue, run down cabin, random old broken down parts.
Day Two: No sightings.
Day Three: Sighted New Neighbor 4 bird watching. He stood oddly straight, arms akimbo and didn't move...
Day Four: New Neighbor 4 still in same spot...
Day Five: l begin to suspect New Neighbor 4 actually just has an old man manikin on his porch.....

October 29th, 2019

The wind thrashes the cottonwood trees about my cabin. The rustling of the heart shaped leaves is a constant background. There must have been a crack a thump something... I didn't hear it as I finished up my early morning shift. I cheered my last student off of the internet, finished up my work for the morning, and got up to make a cup of tea. Despite it being well past 6 no sign of the sun was peeking over the mountains. Or rather mountain there really is only one around here. I decided that the artificial lighting was a bit too harsh. I lit a candle and one by one turned off the fluorescent bulbs. I smiled down at the soft yellow glow and arrange some years around it like we were taught in school. Content now with my ambiance I wandered over to the electric kettle to make a cup of tea. However when I depress the leaver to start the water boiling in the blue indicator light nothing happened. Perplexed I fiddled around in the candlelight trying to figure out what could be wrong with the kettle. I flipped the switch I reset the plug I reset the bus bar. Nothing seems to work. That's when I noticed that the internet was out. The two inch tall red numbers on my alarm clock went to lit. in fact the only lights in the entire cabin came from the candle I had just lit and a slowly blinking light on the gas hot water heater. I flicked the main light switch up and down just to be sure. Then shrugged and committed myself to my fuzzy blankets.

It was however a very amusing coincidence that I look the candle before the power went out by about six seconds...

​EDIT: This didn't post yesterday...because the power was out. But it's back now. 

Humans are Weird - A Surprising Omelet

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. 


Humans are Weird – A Surprising Omelet


“Will we be able to ingest the food like substance?” Twistunder asked.

He and Tumblesleft were hydrating in one of the hydrocarbon tubs that seemed ubiquitous in human supplies. The room around them had been decorated for a human celebration of some sort and they had asked permission to observed the decorations before the party began. They had been happily scooting around, taking notes on color schemes when Twistunder’s appendages had begun to itch. The ever helpful humans had provided them with the hydration tub. From there they could watch the  bustle of the preparations.

“There should be no problems,” Tumblesleft answered him. “There is almost no nutritional value in it but it is primarily simple sugars.”

“The guest should be arriving soon,” a human holding a green canister called out. “Do ya’ll need anything before I go and get the cake thing?”

“It’s not a cake!” yelled another human across the room.

“We are fine,” Twistunder assured him.

“Hey,” the human said as his face flushed with the dancing lights of eager delight. “We were going to do the cake-“

“Not a cake!” the other human corrected again.

“On that table over there,” the human gestured towards the central table with the canister, “but since you little dudes are over here I can do it right here in front of you. So you can see the colors better. You dudlets like colors right?”

“We do,” Twistunder agreed eagerly. “Please do the cake-“

“Not a cake!” the interruption came again.

“In front of us,” Twistunder finished.

“Will do little bud!” the human assured him as he turned and strode across the room.

“What is he going to do to the not-a-cake?” Tumblesleft asked.

“You are the nutritional expert,” Twistunder said, rippling in humor. “But there will be colors, and we do like colors.”

They rubbed appendages in amusement and began to exchange greetings with the arriving humans. The pulsing of the human music started and the lights began flashing wildly. The guests were chatting and eating the small foodstuffs provided for them. After some time the first two humans reappeared, one still holding the canister and the other holding a glistening, sculpted dome of crystals. The lights normalized and the music drifted to an end.

“Those are pretty colors,”  Tumblesleft said with admiration in the set of his body.

“What’s the canister for?” Twistunder suddenly asked as the humans approached.

“Why is that relevant?” Tumblesleft asked.

“It now has a trigger mechanism attached to the exhaust end,” Twistunder indicated with his gripping appendage.

“So?” Tumblesleft asked absently as he pulled himself further out of the tub as the humans set the not-a-cake on the table and the lights dimmed well below human tolerance ranges.

“I think it would be safer under water,” Twistunder stated, matching his actions to his words as the canister trigger began clicking in time to the human’s hand movements.

“Why do you-“ Tumblesleft began.

With a rushing sound a spear of flame leapt from the canister trigger and the humans made low sounds of approval. Tumblesleft stiffened and seemed stuck to the edge of the tub as the human played the fame over the not-a-cake. The crystalline structures shifted and changed at the touch. Once the entire surface had been altered the human turned off the flame and the rest of the humans applauded. Tumblesleft eased back into the water and shuffled closer to Twistunder.

“The colors,” Tumblesleft began softly.

“Very pretty,” Twistunder finished for him.

“Safer under the water,” Tumblesleft observed.

“Usually is,” Twistunder replied.

“I think the humans are inviting us out of the water,” Tumblesleft indicated.

“How long does it take those crystal structures to cool from direct flame exposure?” Twistunder asked.

“A little longer,” Tumblesleft said inching closer to Twistunder. “A little longer.” 

Humans are Weird - Communication

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. 

Humans are Weird – Communication

“Have  you completed the analysis for the-” Thirty-five Trills cut off the questions abruptly as his companion preformed one of those contortions nearly unique to humans.
Human Friend Steve’s head swiveled on that preposterous column of a neck and his eyes focused on the scrubby trees to the side. His faced flexed from the polite attention he had been giving Thirty-five Trills and lit up with delight. His throat pulsed noiselessly for a moment and then emitted a series of click and trills that was almost intelligible.  Thirty-five Trills cast around in confusion to see who Human Friend Steve was speaking (or attempting to speak) to.
An answering series of the same sounds, again almost intelligible, emanated from the shrub but this echo carried wild and animalistic undertones that sent Thirty-five Trills shamelessly darting under Human Friend Steve’s hat for cover. One of the near invisible grainivores was now perched at the end of a branch seemingly conversing with the human. However they quickly passed on with the human’s long strides and Human Friend Steve turned his attention back to his sentient companion.
“Have I what now?” Human Friend Steve asked in the same casual tone he’d been using throughout their conversation.
“Were you just conversing with that…animal?” Thirty-five Trills demanded, poking his sensory horns out from under the protection of the hat.
Human Friend Steve blinked slowly and tilted his head to one side as he visibly shifted his vector of thought.
“No,” he replied slowly. “I was just, mimicking it, I guess?”
“Why?” Thirty-five Trills demanded. “In the course of the main branch, why? Were you determining if there were more? I know your bizarre pattern recognition had already found that one. That’s why you smiled. Why?”
Human Friend Steve gave a slow shrug and sauntered on.
“Don’t know,” he admitted finally. “Just something to do I guess.”
Thirty-five Trills ran his winghooks over his sensory horns and fought back a hiss of frustration. There was always a reason for this madness. He was increasingly glad that it wasn’t his stated job to determine them. 

The New Animal Bride Mythos

One of the more ubiquitous bits of folklore is the tale of the animal bride. They range from the tragic, to the comic, to everything in-between. Celtic versions tend to make the animal bride a hostage of sorts. The North American versions have a bit more variations with the bride ranging from the caterpillar who body snatches the normal human bride and takes her place, to the fox who house breaks a phlegmatic hunter and then storms off in a huff when he has the gall to mention that well...foxes do kind of smell.  
Recently there has been a trend to "update" the animal bride stories. That caught my attention as I work in the wild life field and I am one of the poor mooks who would end up the holder of a selkie's cap if such a thing really existed. So my brain asked what would really happen if some dude found a selkie skin on the beach. 
First he'd freak out about poaching and take the thing to the local police department. They would be concerned, would open a case file and send it to forensics. Poaching would be assumed until forensics turned up  the fact that there were no signs of injury at all on the skin; no bullet holes, no cuts, nothing. Remembering the fiasco of the "mutilated cows" the now confused and disgruntled officers would get this thing off their hands as quick as possible by shipping it off to the nearest university that studies this stuff. The university is grateful and promptly files the anomaly away to be look at whenever some PhD has the time and interest.
Meanwhile the police get a call from the guy who turned the skin over in the first place. He is being stalked by a crazy naked lady who insists he stole her skin. The police take her in and get the vague idea she own the skin. She is investigated for poaching but nothing can be proven. She learns where her skin is however and when they let her go she sets off for the University. But as the magic binds her to the rules of whoever holds her skin she can't so much as see it unless the PhD investigating it shows it to her. As no one cares this could take awhile and the quickest course of action is to get a PhD and "study" it herself. 
​Cue Uni shenanigans. 

Humans are Weird - Peeling

Humans are Weird – Peeling
 
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.
 
 
Second Sister dipped her proboscis into the warm infusion and gave a contented flutter of her neck frill. She flexed her four legs one after the other and eased down onto the warm stone that marked the end of the cultivated area. She did truly love her work. But every year that passed the call of home colony got stronger. She was rapidly approaching full sexual maturity and First Sister was dropping increasingly blunt hints when she contacted her. That last message about the ‘stunningly beautiful First Brother’ of the next colony over had almost been an order. And family duties aside, five years time spent dealing with the madness the humans caused was quite enough civil service to satisfy even the strictest interpretations of the Mother Song.


Second Sister took another lap of the infusion and lightly caressed her badge of office. Being a xeno-psycologist was a trial at any time of life but when one’s hormones were screaming for a mate and offspring…well as First Sister had so pointedly reminded her, the gardens back home were far too large for one male to manage alone and the newly minted First Father really did need a companion. Fetching one home for him was a social duty every bit as much as riveting their place in the larger intra-galactic community was.  


Her musings were interrupted by an alert that made her frill snap up with surprise and confusion. It was one she only heard rarely and she scrambled to snatch up her comm without spilling the infusion. She licked her eyes rapidly and her antenna flicked in consternation. Emergency  psychiatry meetings  were not something she had even fathomed existing before she began working off world, but they did in fact exist as prolonged exposure to humans had taught her.

“Second Sister,” she announced into the comm after taking a moment to force her voice down into the universal tones.


“Thank the Mother Song!” chattered a voice that was not so modulated at all. “You will not believe what I just saw one of the humans-“


“Please meet me in the private consulting room,” Second Sister said putting as much sternness into her tone as she could.


The voice on the other end continued to chitter and she stood and began striding briskly towards the point of origin as indicated by the comm display. She almost envied the amount of emotion other species could put into their purely audio speech. Even vid comms didn’t properly convey body language. For instance, she rounded the corner on the blathering Shatar who had contacted her and arched to her full height, flaring her rather large frill, and extending her antenna straight up.


The caller, a Fourteenth Sister from a  mechanical colony immediately dropped into a submissive position and her trembling tactically calmed.


“Now,” Second Sister said, curling her antenna tightly in firmness, “please come into my consulting room immediately.”


Fourteenth Sister meekly proceeded her into the alcove and eased into a seat. Second Sister followed her and composed her own kinesthetics  into a broadcast of sympathetic attention as she had been taught. Within she was rather exasperated with the display. Even a teen sibling should have better control than this. Whatever was the inciting incident she hopped her own Fourteenth Sister would be calmer in such a situation.


“It was a human!” this Fourteenth Sister finally blurted out her collar flaring in distress. “He was peeling off his skin!”


Second Sister started in amazement.


“Did you report this to the proper medical personnel?” she demanded, revising her opinion of the other Shatar’s mental state.


“I did! I did!” Fourteenth Sister went on, her antenna rubbing spasmodically in a cleaning gesture. “Of course I did! He fussed at me for being overly dramatic but-“


Second Sister silenced her with a raised hand.


“Is the human in question receiving proper medical care?” she asked.


“Yes, yes,” Fourteenth Sister said.


“Then please start at the beginning of your story,” Second Sister ordered. “We are here for your sake, not his.”


“Yes, I was,” Fourteenth Sister began. “I was gathering up the sample of the detritus in the outer airlock as part of the grist survey. One of the humans came in, Second Field Ranger, I think I mean Ranger Mihata?”


“That is how they prefer to be addressed,” Second Sister agreed.


“Well Ranger Mihata entered and cleaned his, those foot armor they call boots,” Fourteenth Sister went on, “cleaned his boots in the required way and before he put on his base foot coverings sat down on the bench and twisted his limb up in that perfectly awful position they do when they want to examine their, what do you call them…”


“Soles of their feet,” Second Sister offered.


“Yes,” Fourteenth Sister flared out her neck frill.


 “Why can’t they just be normal and look over their shoulders like we do?” she demanded. “I know they can. I’ve seen humans do that!”


“What did he do then?” Second Sister pressed.


“He looked at the soles of his feet and then,” Fourteenth Sister twitched from talon to antenna tip for a moment before she went on. “He gave a grunt, I think of dissatisfaction from the way his fleshy face was all contorted. Then he reached down and grabbed a loose flap of flesh-“


“Humans don’t have loose flaps of flesh on the soles of their feet!” Second Sister interjected with rising horror.


“Not when healthy,” Fourteenth Sister replied. “Anyway he grabbed it and pulled.”


Second Sister began twitching herself at that mental image.


“He pulled and pulled until a strip of pale dead skin as long as my talon came off and fell to the floor of the airlock,” Fourteenth Sister went on with a set of horrified fascination to her antenna. “I must have made some noise because he glanced over at me and grinned. He assured me that he was just sloughing dead skin cells but those strips were nearly half a mil thick! Then -”


Fourteenth Sister gave a near convulsive twitch.


“Then he pulled at another and he bleed when it detached!” She burst out. “I clicked my distress and summoned the emergency medical techs. He yelled at me as I left that I was being nonsensical but-“ she gave another full body twitch and held still.

​
Second Sister, by an almighty act of will held herself in a calming position and began the usually soothing formula she had developed for this situation. However her true focus was far from the work she was doing. Yes, that First Brother the next colony over was looking mighty good.