Betty Adams's Blog, page 69

Humans are Weird - Scary Story

Humans are Weird – Scary Story
“

​There is something wrong with the human,” Twistunder announced as he slipped into the recreation pool.
“From your posture I assume it is not the sort of wrong that requires immediate attention,” Amblesover observed as he shuffled across the bottom of the pool, stirring the algal system with every lazily dragged nub.
“He is showing signs of sleep deprivation,” Twistunder explained, “and his fight, flight, or freeze circuits are so dramatically over active that even I noticed them. He nearly screamed when I simply touched his hand from inside the cupboard.”
“Did he give you any explanation?” Amblesover asked.
“Well he did specifically request that I,”  Twistunder lifted himself vertical and hunched in the resentful air the human taken, “should just leave him alone and mind my own business.”
Amblesover hummed in sad sympathy and the two Undulates circled each other in a comforting greeting before settling into the artfully arranged algal garden. Twistunder ran his primary appendages over the long smooth tassels of an emerald green variety and let the warmth of the water sooth his gravity stressed appendages. After several minutes had passed by Amblesover lightly shoved him with a gripping appendage. Twistunder stiffened and edged just a thread’s breadth away to indicate his indignation. He was trying to ease out a sulk here.
“Would you like to know what is wrong with the human?” Amblesover asked with mild amusement agitating his appendages.
“You do not even know what human I indicated,” Twistunder pointed out, but he could not hide his curiosity.
“It doesn’t matter,” Amblesover said, taking off from the pool floor and waving an appendage dismissively as he swam around Twistunder. “It is the same for all of them.”
“This is a base wide problem?” Twistunder asked.
If  true, that did relieve his distress about his particular friend, even if it did raise other issues.
Amblesover rotated his appendages in a gesture that had been heavily influenced by the human shrug and climbed up onto a sunning rock.
“I don’t know if you could call it a, problem exactly,” he said in slow musing tones.
Twistunder tightened his stance in annoyance.
“How is (according to you) the entire human population of the base, displaying signs of fear stressors not a problem?” Twistunder demanded.
Amblesover hummed in amused patience and stretched out against the gravity.
“Do you recall all the hubbub over the so called predator practice?” Amblesover asked.
“I do,” Twistunder confirmed. “Tag, I think the humans called it.”
“Do you recall what the Shatar were so concerned about?” Amblesover prompted.
“I fail to see the connection between that and this!” Twistunder said.
Amblesover prodded him with a gripping appendage.
“Very well,” Twistunder muttered. “I will follow your wake. The Shatar recognized the behavior as practice of endurance predation as observed in several non-sapient deathworld species. They were concerned that there was some factor in the base environment that was stimulating the human to such an extreme behavior.”
Amblesover waved for him to go on.
“The conclusion of the investigation showed that it was simply a childhood gaming behavior,” Twistunder continued, “albeit one that was the result of the human’s ecological past of being endurance pursuit predators.”
“The humans were exposing their bodies to the conditions that they might have to encounter to maintain their physical strength through play behavior,” Amblesover summarized as he leisurely stretched his non-gripping end into the water. “And so is it any surprise the also do so with their awareness?”
Twistunder slumped in blank bemusement and Amblesover rolled into the water in a deliberate display of humor.
“The humans are in the process of testing each other’s psychological toughness,” Amblesover explained. “The process also strengthens their psychological toughness.”
Twistunder slowly bobbed his gripping end in a rough approximation of a nod.
“That does explain the symptoms I have seen in my human friend,” he said slowly. “But why have I not observed the practice itself and why are they suddenly doing it now?”
“They do it at night,” Amblesover explained. “And they trek inland into the dry highlands where we can’t go.”
“Do they wish to hide this behavior from us?” Twistunder asked, twisting his appendages in distress at the thought.
“Far from it,” Amblesover said waving an appendage dismissively. “But to answer both questions, the conditions the practice is preformed over precludes our presence. They like to be high and dry, there is usually an open flame, and copious consumption of alcohol. Therefore they prefer these dry summer months.”
“That does sound particularly horrid,” Twistunder said with a shudder. “What could they be possibly doing under those conditions that counts as play and then leads to those mental states?”
“They’re telling scary stories.”

Sharing a Laugh - Chemistry

I saw this on that other social media website and I laughed so hard that I terrified my neighbors puppy. Then I cried a little. Because yes, yes I cried for nearly three hours when I was done with this book. 

Humans are Weird - Picking at It

Humans are Weird – Picking at It
​
“Are you certain you are a fully mature human?” Third Cousin demanded as she adjusted the bandage over the laceration.
“That’s what it says on my papers,” muttered her current patient.
“What papers?” Third Cousin asked. “And may I verify that information?”
The rolled his strange mobile eyes in their sockets and Third Cousin had to fight to keep her frill flat on her neck. That was simply disturbing. A species without eyes was confusing enough, a species with eyes that rested so loosely in their sockets that they looked like they could just pop out was horrifying. Given that there was actually mandatory training on what to do when human eyes were jostled out of their sockets she could only assume it did happen often enough to require such training. She shook the disturbing mental off as he spoke.
“Papers is just and expression for my database entries,” he said, “and yes. I am a thirty-six year old human. Frontal cortex is fully formed and all that.”
His hand came up from where it rested on the medical berth and a single finger reached for the bandaged area on his face.
Third Cousin flared her frill in near rage and grasped at his hand in fury. He had the typical human strength so she had no hope of controlling him physically but the touch did remind him of her order and he blushed in embarrassment.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
“That laceration was of no consequence when you first acquired it,” she informed him. “There was no chance of infection and your bizarre healing factor would have closed it within days. Now it will take at least a week.”
“Sorry,” he said again, his gaze dropping to the ground.
“It is your own skin you should be concerned with!” She burst out in exasperation.
His hand rose again as if to test her words.
“Why?” She demanded, snatching his hand again. “Just why?”
He stared up at her with an odd helpless expression on his soft round face. He blinked slowly and she snapped her mandibles in frustration. He finally shrugged.
“Don’t know,” he confessed. “Just something I do.”
“It won’t heal until you stop picking at it!” She said.
“I know.” He said.
“Stop picking at the laceration on your face!”  Third Cousin finally said firmly. “That is an order from your medical professional.”
“Understood,”   he said with a smile. “See you when it’s all healed.”
The human slipped off the medical berth and smiled nervously at her before heading for the door. Third Cousin watched him go until he slipped out of the door. Just before he left his hand rose again and he scratched at the bandage. Third Cousin let her frill droop and turned to her data consol. There had to be something about this behavior in the medical data. And if not, she supposed it wouldn’t be too great a breach of medical ethics to glue his hands together until his face healed. 

Humans are Weird - Doggo Fix

Humans are Weird – Doggo Fix

​
“Greetings Commander Seven Trills.” Third Sister flashed her frill in absent greeting as the Winged flew into the base decontamination unit. “It is good to see you safely returned. How was your recreation period?”
The diminutive mammal grunted and fluttered over to drop his personal items on the desk.
“It was very, very human,” Seven Trills replied.
Third Sister laid her frill against her neck but didn’t turn her head to put him in her sight range.
“Yes,” Seven Trills hissed as he turned on the disinfectant spray. “Very human.”
Third Sister pointedly began tapping faster on her interaction consol, however the Winged didn’t take the hint. He stalked over to the hot air drier and rubbed his winghooks through his fur vigorously.
“The transport ended up going to Azure Seventh-flap.” Seven Trills went on.
Third Sister was beginning to regret the social protocols that required her to show interest in the first place but there were social expectations to be met.
“What is there of interest on Azure Seventh-flap?” She asked.
“There is a human recreation resort,” Seven Trills explained. “Human Friend Helen informed us that it was a type of ancient, pre-mechanical age, sporting area that allowed humans to get as close to flight as their thick boned bodies allowed.”
“That would seem interesting to a Winged,” Third Sister murmured.
“One would think,” Seven Trills clicked out. “She really pressed for it, even after I pointed out that even on the equator the main bases existed below the freezing point of water for ninety percent of the local year.”
“Ah,” Third Sister flicked her frill in recognition. “Yes, that is the planet that nearly killed the Cold-blooded Ones when they sent an expedition. I saw the images at the University. Isn’t the surface constantly covered in crystallized water?”
“Yes, snow,” Seven Trills replied. “That is the main attraction. The unique surface tension and low density is what provides the conditions that allow humans to mimic flight.”
“But your body mass is so low,” Third Sister observed with a dissatisfied click, “that even with a proper internal thermostat you would lose your heat so quickly that you might as well be a cold blood.”
“Oh we knew it,” Seven Trills said with a grimace as he flapped up to rest on her shoulder.
Third Sister held out her frill in stiff indignation but Seven Trills seemed to only take it as a invitation droop against her neck. She reminded herself that he had been in the company of humans.
“Why did you not simply outvote her?” Third Sister asked.
“She was so eager,” Seven Trills explained with a tiny sigh. “And we thought we would be able to get some amazing data on the human flight neural circuit to sell to the College of Mammalian Psychology.”
“Did they accept the data?” Third Sister asked, her interest reviving again.
“We didn’t get any,” Seven Trills said pressing his sensory horns into her outer membrane.
“Was she unable to participate due to injury?” Third Sister asked in concern.
“She hates skiing,” Seven Trills informed her. “She always has. The activity not only holds no attractions for her, she actively discourages other humans from participating in it.”
“Why did she wish to go to a planet with no other form of recreation?” Third Sister demanded.
“Do you remember why the Cold-blooded Ones didn’t die on Azure Seventh-flap?” He asked.
“The human expedition saved them,” Third Sister replied. “Ah, did she wish to go for historical pride?”
“Do you remember how the humans saved them?” Seven Trills pressed.
“I do not,” Third Sister answered. “I am not a memory keeper.” She paused. “I think it had something to do with human having a superior transport device.”
“That was part of it,” Seven Trills confirmed. “The humans had sleds designed to run over the surface of the crystallized water. They were very effective but none of the high energy engines worked due to the unique electromagnetic fields on the planet, and no combustion engine would ignite in the atmosphere.”
“So how did the human’s solve that problem?” She asked.
Seven Trills flipped over and pointed a personal projector at the wall. He activated it and Third Sister clicked in surprise.
“I have seen those at the main University,” she said. “But never this variation. An entire species dedicated to transport. Fascinating, I thought them medical aids and message carriers at best.”
“Only this variation,” Seven Trills began, “this breed is dedicated to transport we learned.”
“But what does their presence have to do with Human Friend Helen going to a base with no form of recreation she enjoys?” Third Sister asked, getting tired of being a couch for the winged.
“She said,” Seven Trills said with a groan, dropping one wing over his eyes, “that she desperately needed a doggo fix and huskies would do as well as any other doggo.”
“Do you?” He suddenly took off and darted around the room at mad vectors. “Do you have any idea how much they drool?”
Third Sister began to back out of the room.
“Or how hard it is to get drool out of fur?” he demanded. “Human Friend Helen laughed but skin can be washed in cold weather! Fur-“
The rant cut off as Third Sister slipped into the corridor.
 

Humans are Weird - Witching Hour

Humans are Weird – The Witching Hour


​“One of the humans is missing.”
Subcommander Grist  let out a hiss of annoyance and curled closer to his sleeping partner. If he could just ignore the voice long enough.
“Subcommander,” the voice pressed. “One of the humans is missing.”
Grist gave a low grumble. His traitorous sleep-fellow rolled away from him and kicked lazily at his thigh. The sleep curled talons posed no danger to his skin but it would still leave some bruises if he didn’t moved. He stretched and slipped out from under the thermo-cover. He resolutely ignored whoever had woken him as he stomped over to the shelf that held his torga juice. He flipped the lid off with his lower jaw and shoved his muzzle into the sweet liquid. He took a few blessed moments to swirl the fluid around his teeth. He felt a rear tooth shift and made a mental note to make a dental appointment. He finally took a deep breath, swallowed. And rotated his body to glare at his commander.
“What do you mean that one of the humans is missing?” Grist demanded.
Commander Pulp shifted on his forepaws uneasily and glanced sideways as if he was watching the actual question hovering between them. Why did Pulp think that this issue was Grist’s problem when it was very clearly his offshift. Grist fought back a groan. Pulp was new. As in arrived four days ago with no prior human experience and forty years of command experience new. He was trying not to be a complete ridge-skull at least.
“Grimes was last registered by the sensors in his sleeping situation over an hour ago,” Pulp informed him. “I grew worried as it was his sleep time and followed his scent track to the airlock.”
“Did you ask the other humans?” Grist asked, rubbing a paw over his eyes in an attempt to loosen his scales.
“I did,” Pulp said, then gave a long sigh. “The answer made no sense.”
“What did they say?” Grist asked.
“He always gets twitchy during the witching hour,” Pulp replied, raising his nasal ridges to indicated a direct quote.
“Witching?” Grist ran the word over his teeth as they ambled out of the room and into the hallway.
Pulp was looking at him hopefully but Grist bobbed his snout in confusion. Pulps eyes dimmed in disappointment.
“Never heard the word,” Grist said.
Pulp stared at him pleadingly.
“I’ll take care of it,” Grist said with a glum sigh.
Pulp hummed in gratitude and scuttled back to the command center. Grist sighed and headed for the airlocks. Humans were never hard to track. While a healthy human didn’t necessarily smell bad, they certainly smelled strong. They left a trail of volatile chemicals behind them that might as well have been a detailed coordinate map. Still Grist paused at the edge of the airlock. He could already feel the cold seeping into his paws. He hunched his shoulders and stalked out into the cold.
The planet was deep in the night cycle. The stars gleamed overhead and the cold air trapped the scents of the sparse forest close to the ground. Grist hurried over the cold stones calculating that he had perhaps an hour before he dropped below functional body warmth. Fortunately Grimes wasn’t far from the base. Grist paused at the crest of the small knoll the human was on to take in the scene.
Grimes was wearing only a loose set of pants leaving his heat signature free to glare out on the trees around him. He was pacing back and forth across the rocky surface leaving trails of afterimages in the air and line after line of fading heatprints on the rock. Grist took a moment to admire the glowing view and wonder and the raw amount of heat emitted by the mammal.
“Grimes!” he barked out.
Grimes jerked to a stop and his head swiveled comically as he tried to locate the sound.  Grist knew the exact moment the human spotted him as the human jumped and gave a yelp of fear. Grist grinned widely. It was petty he knew, but being able to terrify the massive hot-bloods even for a few moments was pretty good on his ego. The human worked its narrow jaw like he was trying to speak but nothing came out.
“Whatever this behavior is it is freaking out the new commander!” Grist snapped.
He declined to mention the wild flares in the humans thermoaura and the frantic set to his face were freaking him out too.
“Get back to your sleeping situation and explain whatever this ‘witching hour’ is to Commander Pulp as soon as it warms to day.”
Grist whipped his tail around and stomped down the slope in what he hoped the human saw as a dignified manner.
 

Humans are Weird - Self Control

Humans are Weird – Self Control
​
“For the record,” Eighth Sister said as calmly as she could with her frill extended as far as it would go in a display she could only pray the human didn’t recognize as scornful disbelief.
“For what record?” The human sitting across the table from her demanded.
His outer membrane was flush with toxin signals and his pheromone cloud was awash with horrid indicators of the internal torment his digestive system was going through. For once in her career Eight Sister regretted that human biosignals were so easy to translate.
“The medical record,” Eighth Sister said, forcing her frill to lay flat. “The one your superiors are paying me to keep. The one that you yourself said was a, and I quote, “Crackerjack-“
“Don’t quote my words back to me,” snapped the human, slumping in a way that should not have been possible for a creature with a calciferous endoskeleton.
“Very well,” Eighth Sister agreed.
She reminded herself that the digestion impeded human was suffering far more than she was and deserved sympathy. Even if, as she suspected, his suffering was entirely his own doing.
“Now when you submitted your specific dietary needs to the base you indicated that you had a dangerous learned immune response to what common human foods?” She asked.
“Gluten, mammalian lactation, and yeast by-products,” the human muttered with a sigh.
“And what product did you specifically order from the non-essential foodstuffs merchant?” She asked.
“Chocolate éclairs,” the human said in a still lower voice.
“And did you personally eat these non-essential foodstuffs?” She asked.
“I bloody well did!”  Snapped the human. “For the record you know.”
“And what are the primary ingredients of these non-essential foodstuff?”  She pressed on deciding to ignore the outburst.
“Sugar,” he began, “and chocolate, and baking soda, and baking powder, and water …”
“And?” She pressed.
“Milk, gluten, and yeast,” he muttered, somehow managing to slump even lower in his seat all the while maintaining a steady resentful glare at a point right in-between her eyes.
She waited for him to continue, to offer some explanation, but he only glared at her defiantly until she let her frill droop and gestured at the door.
As he stood his gastro system release a cloud of foul waste product and he flushed in embarrassment before hurrying out of the room. Eighth Sister clamped down her frill and wondered if she could get a transfer. 

Where are all the Children's Books?

All the children's books. ALL OF THEM. Are here. 

Humans Are Weird - Jump Scare

Humans are Weird – Jump Scare
“Secondary Visiting Ranger?” Fourth Sister asked when she handed him the soil probe.
The brilliant yellow sun shown down on the frozen landscape. She would never have dared venture out onto such a place herself without the presence of a true mammal. Even with her insulation gear that muted the sounds of even loud conversation she could already feel the air draining her core warmth. Fortunately humans were rather loud when it came to communication. Even so, the grunt the human gave in reply did not seem to contain any words, but she was learning that humans were rather imprecise when it came to casual verbal communication, so she took it to be permission to continue.
“Are you currently in a state of, ah, I believe the word is ‘feud’ with Primary Visiting Ranger?” She asked.
“Primary-? Oh you mean Bob?” The human asked.
“Yes,” She replied.
The human took a moment to shift the hood of the parka he was wearing around his tiny audio sensors but did not expose the round little nubs of skin.  
“A state of feud?” His lips turned down in a gesture of either displeasure or thought. “Not that I know of. Why?”
“Well given that he is about to-“ Fourth Sister began.
The still, thick atmosphere was split by a high pitched shriek as Primary Visiting Ranger leapt out from behind a shrubbery and grasped at Secondary Visiting Ranger. Fourth Sister felt her frill slapping against the interior of her thermal wear in confusion. Primary Visiting Ranger was perhaps a full body length from Secondary Visiting Ranger. There was no way a human could physically touch another from that distance. However Secondary Visiting Ranger still leapt back with a vocalization that she was fairly certain counted as a profanity. She stooped over to pick up the probe Secondary Visiting Ranger had dropped.
“Really Bob?” Secondary Visiting Ranger demanded, his hand clutched over his primary circulatory pump. “Really?”
Primary Visiting Ranger was laughing in delight to such an extent that Fourth Sister was somewhat concerned for his health. He doubled over and braced his arms on his knees.
“Oh yeah Mack,” he finally gasped. “Really. You should have seen your face!”
“Real mature.” Secondary Visiting Ranger muttered.
She could not see under his goggles but from the flexing of the exposed muscles she presumed that he was performing that odd ritual of ‘rolling his eyes’ that was so very disturbing. Inset organs should not move in that manner.
“Is this an amusing encounter or an antagonistic one?” Fourth Sister asked as she handed Secondary Visiting Ranger the soil probe.
“Amusing!” Primary Visiting Ranger stated firmly, all of his teeth showing in a wide grin.
“Not antagonistic,” Secondary Visiting Ranger spoke at the same time. “Just annoying and immature.”
“You needed the cardio anyway,” Primary Visiting Ranger said.
He straightened and strode past them, not breaking stride but managing to clout Secondary Visiting Ranger on the shoulder with those built in clubs humans were so infamous for.
“See you back at the base Mack,” he said cheerfully.
“Not if I see you first,” Secondary Visiting Ranger muttered.

Humans are Weird - Surface Tension

Humans are Weird - Surface Tension 

Apology post for missing two weeks of posts. 

Humans are Weird - Surface Tension

“Commander Strk’t?” Xrt’ltx asked as he entered the commander’s office.
The commander was busy over yet another report justifying more equipment and was not in the best of moods. If Central didn’t want to supply them with four times the usual required items then perhaps they should not send item types that oxidized so quickly to a world that was over ninety percent surface water. He lifted his attention from yet another description of metal rusting out and tried to look attentive for the young anthropologist.
“Yes?” He replied.
“I had an odd conversation with one of the humans,” Xrt’ltx began uneasily.
“That describes most interactions with giant, bipedal mammals with underdeveloped self preservation instincts,” Strk’t said in a flat tone. “Is there a reason you came to me about it.”
Xrt’ltx shifted uneasily on his six motile legs and waved a gripper in confirmation.
“You would most likely know whether a human was making a threat or expressing concern,” Xrt’ltx said.
“If it was one of the humans on this base he was expressing concern,” Strk’t said with a dismissive wave. “They consider us to be ‘cute’ and ‘adorable’. Our eye to head ratios are so far into their neonatisim triggers that we get the benefit of them instinctively wanting to protect us. Once the horror wears off that is.”
Xrt’ltx looked the opposite of enlightened but Prime Cluster be Fragmented if Strk’t was going to bother expanding on human behavior if he could help it. They young anthropologist finally decided to leave it at that and went on.
“I was invited to partake in a human recreational activity,” he continued, “but the human expressed, or at least I think that was his meaning, that the forces I would be exposed to would cause dismemberment.”
“They asked if you could regenerate limbs,” Strk’t asked with an amused twitch to his upper mandibles.
“Yes!” Xrt’ltx seemed relieved that Strk’t recognized the behavior.
“What activity did they invite you to?”  Strk’t asked.
“Water skiing,” Xrt’ltx replied.
“Oh yeah,” Strk’t said with a wave of confirmation. “That one will rip your gripping appendages right off.”
Xrt’ltx stared at him in horror as if waiting for him to go on.
“Just tell them you are happy to observe,” Strk’t said with a shrug.
“But if the forces are enough to dismember our much larger surface to volume ratio-“ Xrt’ltx began.
Strk’t had been among the humans a long time he would freely admit, long enough to be comfortable with interrupting someone else.
“Human limbs are very firmly attached,” he replied, “and they rely on the surface tension of the water to slow them down and reduce the tension force. You should go.”
Xrt’ltx stared at him silently for a few moments before slipping out of the office door. Strk’t turned back to his report and made a mental note to prepare the medbay for the usual human injuries.
 

Book Review - Cinder

Cinder – NEVER Judge a Book by its Cover

Guilty as charged your honor. I did it. I confess. I have paid the price for my arrogance. I judged a book by its cover.

*dramatic music* 

 “Cinder” by  Marissa Meyer is an amazing book.

My brother pestered me to read it for a year before simply buying it for me for Christmas. I read through it in a few hours and then bought the next six books over the next three days. I could not stop.
No matter what genera it is (or you think it is) it is a well written book. The characters are full and strong. The tropes are played straight and subverted at the same time. You care about the main characters and are rooting for them to succeed while at the same time you are terrified that they will turn evil at any moment.
It is technically a YA science-fantasy romance. But don’t judge it by its siblings. Yes there are werewolves…sort of? There is vampirism (but no vampires). There are princesses and princes. There are village maidens and big bad wolves. There are robots and androids. There are spaceships and French pastries. There is romance so sweet it will give you diabetes and realities so horrifying it will make you very, very glad this is science fiction. The scientists are mad the princes are charming and the grandmother was a decorated veteran.
Life is pretty tough for Cinder. Despite having the best future-Yelp ratings in new Beijing her mechanics shop barely pays for the upkeep of her stepmother and two sisters. The plague is devastating the city of New-Beijing and she could really use a new foot.  Then her stepmother sells her to the government labs. An evil queen is going to force Prince Charming into helping her CONQURE THE WORLD unless Cinder can get to the ball with the warning from the malfunctioning android. Also the mad scientist is more clinically unstable than fun and quirky…
This book and the rest of its series is a must read.