Betty Adams's Blog, page 7

Humans are Weird - Breaking News

Humans are Weird - Breaking News
​ Rollsslowly pushed off the delicious bed of the freshwater river, this time remembering to put extra effort into the motion. He rose up against gravity and nearly instantly lost visual information on the smooth, algae covered rocks in the turbid water. However he managed to get enough momentum to pull his work bag off the riverbed and it followed his lagging end over the protruding rock without catching. Rollsslowly gave a few powerful strokes, not enough to maintain the surface-ward momentum of both him and his tools, but more than enough allow him to drift to the next collection site. As he drifted back down, forward momentum assisted by the current, a stray eddy of water tickled his appendages in a way that indicated a deep, narrow hole in the river bed below him that had not been there the last time there were in this location. Rollsslowly hesitated between just sounding as loudly as he could and getting out his comm unit, but finally decided on the comm, the surface of a smooth pond disrupted sound enough to confuse mammal audio senses, the surface of a rippling river utterly negated sound as far as the humans were concerned. He slid an appendage into his work bag and pulled out the device.
“Human Friend Nate!” He called out, not bothering to alter his tones to match the sound profile it had on land. Human Friend Nate found his unaltered underwater voice endearing ‘like whale speak’ whatever that was, and more importantly, had no trouble understanding it.
“Sup’ Undulate Friend Rollsslowly?” Human Friend Nate called back cheerfully, the comm carrying a clear voice and the water catching the voice that originated nearly two unds above and distorting it as the sound waves crossed the phase barrier.
“Be aware of a deep hole, just large enough to catch your walking appendage,” Rollsslowly said. “It is about in the middle of the distance between the two sample sites, about two and a half unds from either.”
“Roger that bud!” Human Friend Nate called, the approaching sound of his two massive appendages sloshing through the water changing subtly as he began attempting to detect the hole in the turbid water by touch.
Rollsslowly directed himself to the sample site and began the meticulous process of selecting one out of every ten of the most average lengths of the algae strands. It was fairly simple ones you got a feel for the local population, and despite the human member of the expedition protesting that a proper ecologist should have to “at least do some math” to be able to accurately select only those strands which fell within a standard deviation of the perfect mean, every attempt on their part to prove that laser measurement devices and artificially computed lengths would be more accurate, none of their efforts had proved, on post collection inspection to be more accurate than a well trained Undulate ‘feeling their way’. Rollsslowly was about forty percent finished when the water carried a sound to him and he stopped suddenly.
Rollsslowly had never heard that sound before. It was a muffled crack, as of the woody part of a terrestrial plant breaking under pressure, but very different. Something like coral snapping under the force of a wave, but muted. To be perfectly aligned Rollsslowly had never heard any sound like it in his existence. It was, there was no better word than alien to him, and for some reason, something that sounded through his every fiber, he knew that was a bad sound. He slipped out of the harness of his work-bag, remembering to drop its anchor and scrambled against the current back towards the general direction of the sound. He wasn’t sure why he focused on the hole, Human Friend Nate was aware of it and an experience river walker, but just down stream of the hole he found Human Friend Nate on three limbs, facing down into the water with his nose mere appendage breadths from the surface of the water.
Rollsslowly used one of Human Friend Nate’s thick arms to brace himself and thrust several appendages up out of the water to get a good look at the human’s face. The humans skin below the water, which was well below the mammal’s comfort level, was hard to read but above the water it was flush with pain signals and the expressive flesh over his face was taught with strong sensation indicators. Rollsslowly was about to demand explanation when Human Friend Nate took a deep breath and heaved himself up onto his folded legs, freeing his hands to smack at his face. A gesture that both dislodged Rollsslowly, forcing the Undulate to brace himself on the humans ‘knee’, and cleared the vast majority of the pain signals from the human’s face. The human looked up at the blurry distant blue sky with its rippling colors and took another deep breath.
“There was a hole,” Human Friend Nate commented in a tone of forced evenness.
“Yes,” Rollsslowly replied. “The one I warned you about.”
Human Friend Nate’s face contorted in a rueful smile and he adjusted his work bag that he carried strapped to his back.
“Yes you did,” the human agreed, “and I stepped in it.”
“What was that bad sound I heard?” Rollsslowly demanded.
“You heard that?” Human Friend Nate sounded genuinely surprised, “and identified it as a bad sound? Have you ever heard it before?”
“No! What was it?” Rollsslowly demanded.
“Most like to be one of those pesky little bones in my toes breaking,” Nate said with a shrug. “No big deal.”
Rollsslowly scrambled around the human’s mass to the foot where, despite the cold of the water, and the thing anti-laceration/traction covering the human wore he could see was now coloring with pain signals.
“Aren’t those bone things important to you?” he demanded, gently feeling the foot to get a better idea of the damage.
“The real big ones are,” the human agreed. “If it’d been my femur or tib or whatnot, I’d be up the creek literally, but other than running the bone generator over it not much to be done about a broke toe bone. Let’s just finish up this stretch of the river and walk back to the transport. Nothing else to do.”
“We could call for pickup,” Rollsslowly pointed out.
But Human Friend Nate shook his head and with slow, deliberate motions rose to his feet. The pain signals spiked, rippling across his stripes in glowing colors again but decreased as he began gingerly walking towards a flat rock that stuck out of the stream a few unds away.
“I’ll just take a sit there,” he indicated the rock with his hand, “and wrap my foot and set the bandage to walking book hardness. It’ll slow me down a bit but will keep the bones from taking any more damage.”
“Won’t that thing be an issue?” Rollsslowly demanded as he followed the human. “The part where if you damage one of your, I can’t recall the word, but when those organ things are inside and they get damaged they leak fluids into the wrong chambers?”
“Internal bleeding,” the human supplied as he folded his appendages down on the boulder and detached his work bag to get at the contents. “Nah, not for a little old broken foot bone like this. Least it won’t be a problem before we get back to the base and can have the medic take a proper look at it. Come on up here and watch now,” Human Friend Nate said with a grin, patting the boulder beside him. “Sounds like you never saw a foot get field wrapped before. Now pay attention to the direction I wrap the long bandage before I set the bottom to get hard, it’s important because of the way human blood flows.”
Human Friend Nate brought the injured foot up onto his ‘lap’ and began unrolling the long bandage from his work bag and Rollsslowly crawled up the boulder to observe. He had the creeping suspicion that he was being distracted to avoid an argument but he had never seen a field wrap before and it was interesting.   Hidden Fires - A Novel
From ghoulies, and ghosties, and long-leggedy beasties, and things that go boomp in the night; Good Lord deliver us.
Traditional Scottish Prayer


A cavern bathed in fire.
A world of the cusp of change.
A threat from beyond the stars.

Bard has led his pool of outcast warriors across the stars to this strange new planet with its cold, nearly dead surface. For years they clung to each other in the magma caverns only going to the surface to humor the curiosity of their hosts,until the day a young alien wandered into Bard’s song and resonated with him, and gave his pool a hope of something more.
Now a dark threat from Bard’s homeworld threatens the fragile connection he has formed with this alien family, and the stars sing of war.


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Hidden Fires - A Science Fantasy Novel

https://igg.me/at/HiddenFiresBook 
When Government orders leave his sister stranded in a hostile city Drake McCarty finds duty pulling him away from his wilderness home. Leaving his two young charges in the care of a retaliative stranger, Drake sets out with the alien warrior Bard to rescue his sister in what promises to be a simple retrieval mission. But nothing is what it seems, and when Bard seemingly goes feral, detonating a thermal device in a human city, and ripping out a chunk of his sister’s skull, Drake finds himself thrust into a new world, where the extraterrestrials he has come to count as family are no longer seen as harmless curiosities by the powers that be, but as an active, invading alien threat.
Drake’s world threatens to shatter around him as human authorities creep closer around his brother and cousin, and an alien warlord renews an old hunt for his newfound friends. Will Drake be able to face the impossible situation threatening his family, or will he let his own growing sense of helplessness crush him?
Find out in “Hidden Fires” the thrilling sequel to “Flying Sparks”. 85,000 words of science-fantasy adventure set in the “Dying Embers” universe.
Dragons walk the mountain, aliens lurk between the stars, and things go BOOMP in the night. 
https://igg.me/at/HiddenFiresBook 


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Humans are Weird - Defensive Mechanism

Humans are Weird - Defensive Mechanism   Second Sister clicked a soft song to herself as she ran the cleansing cloth over the last of the plates. She set one of the delicate ceramic discs in the drying rack and took a moment to carefully angle it so the sterilization ray would catch every surface on its passes. She had just reached a particularly moving vine in the song, one that always made her antenna tingle with enjoyment when the floor began to vibrate with sound of an approaching human. Second Sister let the vine of the song trail away as she thoughtfully spread a hind foot out to better absorb the vibrations. Something was, just ever so slightly off about the sound of the approaching human. It was larger, probably male-
Her deductions were cut off as a broad, flipper like hand shoved the bead-curtain aside and Human Fifth Brother lunged into the room.
“You look like, like-” Second Sister’s mind curled desperately for an appropriate metaphor to describe the sickly wash of colors flooding Human Fifth Brother’s face.
“Yeah, yeah,” Human Fifth Brother gasped out, his eyes rolling in their sockets in that terrifying way that human eyes would when they were distressed.
His voice sounded even worse than his face looked, and Second Sister wished she could grasp the metaphor that was just out of reach. Human Fifth Brother staggered a little further into the room, clutching the door-frame with one entire arm to stay mostly upright and holding his stomach with his other hand.
“You need medical attention!” Second Sister finally managed to enunciate, setting the cleaning cloth down and stepping forward, preparatory to grabbing the usually stubborn human (though he had seemed to ‘wise up’ the past few years as his own First Sister had observed recently) and forcing him to seek aid. “Third Father is-”
“No!” Human Fifth Brother blurted out, and it seemed he would try to justify his refusal, but just as his mouth opened the colors that washed across his face went from white, to a nearly healthy green, to bright pink. His body stiffened, then arched, and a stream of fluid shot out of his mouth, arched over Second Sister, and splattered over the entire rack of freshly washed food surfaces.
A momentary surge of frustration and anger surged through Second Sister’s frill to the accompaniment of the bleating of the contamination alarm on the sterilization ray. Its simple processor wasn’t able to analyze much in the way of external stimuli, but it knew when its assigned surfaces were contaminated beyond its ability to effectively clean them.
“The plates!” Second Sister shrieked, wondering why everything was just a bit cloudy.
“Your eyes!” Yelped Human Fifth Brother as he staggered forward, grabbed her arm and hustled her towards the sink. “I am so sorry! Gotta’ wash it off. I didn’t mean-”
He grabbed the nozzle that could extend from the sink and then paused.
“How much water pressure is you know, safe? For your-” He waved at her eyes.
Her eyes, and antenna, and frill she suddenly realized, that were now covered in slowly spreading human internal fluids. Fluids that burned. Acid, she grimly realized, his panic now making sense. Humans kept potent acid at the bases of those tubes that led to their mouths.
“Lowest setting,” she snapped.
Human Fifth Brother fumbled with the nozzle a bit to find the settings and she almost snatched it from him, but he finally managed to select the correct one and bodily lifted her to hold her head and shoulders over the sink at an angle with one hand while he ran the water over her with the other, profusely apologizing the entire time.
“Enough of that,” Second Sister finally snapped out, flicking her stinging antenna and wriggling out of his grasp. “We are both going to see Third Father for medical attention.”
She staggered back once free of his hold and glared up at him.
“What was that?” She demanded, gesturing at the dishes covered in clumps of half digested vegetable matter and slowly dripping fluid.
“Don’ know,” Human Fifth Brother said with a shrug. “I just got real sick all the sudden. I feel better now.”
“That I gathered.” Second Sister snapped as she grabbed up another cloth and began dabbing excess water out from under her frill while leading Human Fifth Brother out of the room. Even through her blurred vision she could see that his colors and stance were much healthier. “What I want to know is since when are humans capable of spewing acid two meters through the air, and what the fraying vine exists on your home planet that makes that a legitimate response to … to anything?”
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Humans are Weird - Award

Humans are Weird - Award  Quilx’tch idly sipped at his broth as he read through the report in front of him. The warm taste washed through him and he let the sensation go all the way to his paws, stretching and flexing them comfortably against his squatting pad. A mass printed thing the pad did not have a truly natural texture but it was easy enough on his paw-hairs and didn’t catch at his claws. An indistinct form came through the door behind him but didn’t indicate by either gesture or stance that it needed attention so Quilx’tch kept his main eyes focused on the report in front of him. He was resetting the form for the fifth time when the form finally got close enough to resolve into Fst’stk, the local safety officer, and approached him with the clear desire to communicated, but holding his own drinking pipe in such a way as to offer silent communion as an alternate option. Quilx’tch clicked in amused frustration and rotated to put the approaching Trisk in his primary cone of vision.
“Excellent weather for reading as the humans say,” Quilx’tch greeted him.
Fst’stk took a perfectly polite six seconds before responding with words but his chelicerae twitched with tired amusement as he sipped at his own drink. The storm that was still rocking the smaller structures on the base had been raging for several days now and was extremely limiting to scientific endeavors. The safety officer was perhaps the only member of the base personnel whose duties were not reduced, but rather redirected.
“If only more of them were merely reading,” Fst’stk replied.
Another comfortable silence stretched out and Quilx’tch remained quiet, flicking though the document he had been examining. Fst’stk clearly had a low priority question to ask and eventually he did, indicating the screen with a wave of his free paw.
“And what has you so puzzled?” Fst’stk asked.
Quilx’tch gave a wry little chitter of amusement and turned his main cone of vision back on the screen bringing the human text into sharp focus.
“I am attempting,” he said, drawing a long sigh over his lung, “to determine if this is a ‘serious’ publication, on that should be filed with formal human awards and announcements, or simply a ‘sarcastic’ joke.”
“It does not appear to be exactly nutrient related,” Fst’stk observed idly.
Quilx’tch paused a little longer than necessary to wait for the groans of the building resisting the wind to quiet before he answered, though he was quite ready for this thought thread, or rather web in its complexity.
“There is one entry on culinary arts,” he observed, “but, no, this is not for work. I am simply curious, and attempting to expand my understanding of human culture.”
Fst’stk shuffled his rearmost legs to indicated that he was ready to listen to a prolonged explanation and Quilx’tch pulled up the title of the document.
“Murphy’s Safety Awards,” Quilx’tch read out loud and then paused in case the safety officer wanted to interject.
Quilx’tch didn’t know for a fact that Fst’stk was aware of the cultural implications of that name, but it would be unlikely for a safety officer to be ignorant. From the way Fst’stk slumped at his joints and rubbed his primary eyes he did recognize the name, but all he said was,
“I am unfamiliar with that award system.”
Quilx’tch gave a chitter of amusement and pulled up the first entry.
“It is local to the next planet over in the system,” he explained, “and it was only with the new communications system that including this planet in the awards was feasible. The purpose seems to be to reward humans who lead to improvements in safety procedures. This is the first time applications from this base were allowed. Engineer First Class Thomas Frank for instance,” Quilx’tch paused again in case Fst’stk wanted to interject but other than a brief shudder at the name the safety officer showed no interest in speaking, “is nominated for exposing the weakness in the safety systems relating to how the communications masts are secured. The entry most applicable to my profession, and the one that made me turn my cone this way, is Nutritional Specialist Susan Faraday, nominated for actions leading to the discovery of the dangers of mixing the protective mucus of the local fish species with the acidic secretions of imported Shatar vegetative matter.”
Fst’stk poised himself to indicate that he needed a moment to process this, and after a long silence and several sips at his drink he said slowly.
“So this award system focuses on humans who made stupid mistakes in their jobs?”
Quilx’tch gave a rueful click.
“There seems to be a second required element,” he pointed out. “In each case the mistake revealed a failure in the ability of the safety systems to make up for the error, and led to alterations in the safety procedures.”
Fst’stk slumped down and tapped his paws thoughtfully on the floor. Finally, his bowl empty he heaved a sigh and gave a stretch that indicated he needed to leave.
“Let me know if you figure out how seriously the humans take these awards,” Fst’stk finally said.
“I will,” Quilx’tch agreed.
“And forward me the document please,” Fst’stk said, “this seems to be something I should be keeping at least a few degrees of my sight on.” Youtube
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Humans are Weird - Wiggle It

Humans are Weird - Wiggle It  Fifteenth Trill grimly held his nostrils rigid as the smell of the fake bark crept up deeper into his sinuses. He took yet another careful breath, feeling his ribcage push gently against his immobilized wing. There was no pain of course. The tiny scrap of metal and plastic attached to the shaved side of his skull made sure of that, but so long as his mind was clear he could feel the strange sensation of bones moving in ways they shouldn’t. The face bark smell was deeper in his nostrils now and he found himself wishing intently for the human medical bay. Yes, it did smell terribly sterile and harsh, but that honest smell of artificially intense acids and bases would have been better that the cloying lies of machine generated chemicals pretending to be the mixed life/death of forest detritus. Suddenly the still air of the isolation room was disturbed as the inner lock opened.
“You have a special visitor!” Doctor Seventh Chirp called out as he scampered in, stirring the air and bringing with him the comforting scents of the rest of the wing and the warm wash of mammal that indicated a human was in the medical ward. “A patient who broke the same bone you did!”
The fake bark smell was washed out and Fifteenth Trill breathed freely and blinked his eyes open to catch glimpses of the doctor bustling in and out of his line of sight. The soft walls still muted the sounds so the whole situation was still depressing but Doctor Seventh Chirp’s cheerful energy was invigorating. Doctor Seventh Chirp activated the scanners and the sterile frequencies itched over Fifteenth Trill’s antenna. The doctor gave a few satisfied chirps and then bustled over so he was fully in Fifteenth Trill’s line of sight.
“The bones are healed enough to release you back to your wing!” Doctor Seventh Chirp said, his long nostril frills trembling with sincere delight.
Fifteenth Trill opened his mouth to reply and in a moment Doctor Seventh Chirp’s entire demeanor transformed. His eyes narrowed and glittered in the dim lights of the room. His nostril frills bristled out threateningly. His fur puffed out and he leaned closer.
“So long as you follow the movement restrictions in your file,” the doctor growled in a deep voice, “I sound no reason your bones won’t heal perfectly.”
A very uncomfortable few seconds stretched out between them.
“I will be very careful to follow all the restrictions,” Fifteenth Trill said as meekly as he could.
“I am serious,” Doctor Seventh Chirp growled and punctuated the statement by tapping his datapad against Fifteenth Trill’s snout. “You have no idea how many full bone replacements I’ve had to do because some fluffy, young idiot tries to go flying with his wing before his bones are ready.”
“I will not even practice flap until you give the word,” Fifteenth Trill said, pouring as much earnest intent into his voice as he could.
The doctor glared into his eyes for several more long, uncomfortable seconds before huffing out a final sound of disbelieve and smoothing his fur down and turning the controls. The inner lock opened and the rest of the medical personnel scampered in. They chirped cheerfully at him as they did mysterious things to the harnesses that immobilized him. He was gradually lowered onto a hover pad and then moved out through the airlock to where he expected to see the rest of his wing. However the only non-medical Winged who was there was from a different wing sporting a bald patch on his breast that indicated something possibly contagious so it was no surprise when the stranger only gave a friendly chirp but didn’t cross the waiting platform to assist with the thorough but professional grooming the medical wing were giving him. It made sense of course, his wing had duties to preform outside of the base and the long term immobilization of one member couldn’t be allowed to cripple the wing, still he found his spirits sinking. As the medics finished affixing the greatly reduced, but still immobilizing harnesses Fifteenth Trill found himself wondering who the special visitor was who the doctor had mentioned, and where was the wing that was going to escort him back to his wing’s dormitory.
“Were done now!” one of the medics called out, waving a wing in that particular gesture used to summon a human.
Fifteenth Trill perked up as the air began to swirl with the massive movements that indicated a human was moving through an enclosed space. Off the side of the waiting platform a blurry mass resolved itself into a human with one of his massive arms in a constricting hammock.
“This is Specialist Gregory Smith,” one of the medics said, his face wrinkled in amusement. “He’ll be carrying you back to the social area outside your dorm. Your wing will take you in when they get back tonight.”
Fifteenth Trill felt a warm flutter in his heart that he made sure didn’t transfer to his one, now partially free wing. The medics were still watching.
“Yo!” Smith called out with a bright smile and a wave of his free hand. “You the little hellbat I’m supposed to escort back to his dorm?”
“Yes! I am.” Fifteenth Trill exclaimed. “Please pat my – I mean if you want to pat my head, or scritch behind my horns I would not be offended. Especially not if you wanted to use your talons to scritch behind my left third horn. Oh yes, right there-”
Fifteenth Trill broke off in a relieved chitter as the now chuckling human obligingly reached one of his thick digits, with thankfully clean and even talons, around and tenderly scritched the indicated patch. When Fifteenth Trill heave a sigh of relief the human stopped the motion and bent to thoughtfully examine the harness set up.
“They gave me the info on this,” the human muttered, his damp breath washing over Fifteenth Trill’s horns. “Looks pretty intuitive. Gonna pick you up now.”
The human gingerly pinched the attachment points on his harness between two fingers and lifted him up, before tucking him into the human’s own canvas harness. Fifteenth Trill gave a chirp of surprise as he was set down on a printed-polycarbon framework that encased the thick, broad flesh of the human hand. Suddenly to Fifteenth Click’s shock the joints of all of the fingers flexed and relaxed.
“Hey now!” Fifteenth Click sputtered out, and then repeated realizing he had slipped into tones too high for humans to hear. “Hey! Why do you get to flex your fingers if I can’t! We’re supposed to have the same injury!”
Smith laughed and flexed his hands again.
“It’s not a load bearing bone in humans little bud,” Smith reminded him gently. “We ground pounding mammals have way more to fear from atrophy than a little movement. Hey, just a tic’, let me just-”
The humans other hand reached in and tweaked the framework in a few specific places and the skin below it lit up with a projection of the bones. The broken one lit up with bright red lines to indicate the fracture points.
“See?” the human said. “The bone is just as far from my shoulder as yours is, but it’s got lots and lots of other bones and stuff supporting it. Technically I could heal without a brace at all if I’m careful, and even in this day and age they don’t even brace it if you break the same bone in your foot this bad. They just run the healing lights over it and tell you to take it easy for a few days.”
Fifteenth Click huffed out some reply as he slumped in the tight, restrictive harness that was going to cause his fur to grow all wonky for seasons. It itched, everything itched, and his wing wouldn’t be back for hours.
“Cost benefit lil’ bud,” the human went on in a sympathetic tone. “You get to fly. I get to stay moving with a few bones broke. Tell you what. I’ll use my good hand to swing you around in the air till your wing gets back. That way you can feel the wind over your horns.”
“This won’t interfere with your recreation plans for the afternoon?” Fifteenth Click asked perking up a bit.
“Nah,” the human said, giving his injured hand yet another flex. “I’ll just put a vid on the big screen first. Nothing like a little brain rot entertainment and some spinning in circles to make the afternoon pass!”
Fifteenth Trill had the vague idea that the medics wouldn’t like this idea, but it hadn’t been specifically forbidden, and the human did seem very confident in the idea.  
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Humans are Weird - Circulation

Humans are Weird - Circulation Sift shifted her forelimb where it rested on the seam of the open window and flexed her claws in the warm sun that was perfect for basking. The wind from their travel rushed around the windshield and filled her nostrils with the scent of a fertile savanna basking in warmth of a white star.

“You would almost think a place this beautiful would have proper seasons,” her companion commented from the other side of the passenger cabin where the human was idly munching on some kind of dried animal protein.
“Not every planet wobbles like a broken millstone,” Sift replies, stretching out her tail and giving a wide yawn. “Share a bit of that...what did you call it?”
“Jerky,” Mary said holding out the bag, casually at first and then more carefully as the wind tried to rip it out of her hands.
Sift dipped her snout in and snatched up a large piece of the jerky. As she expected it was tougher than three days seasoned pure bread but it did have a reasonably springy texture and she started gnawing on it contentedly. Just as she was sucking down the first mouthful of juices an alarm on the counsel chirped and Mary sat up and began examining the road and savanna around them. The human shoved her loose hair out of her eyes and reached over to activate the large predator scanners. She gave a grunt of contentment and shifted her mass to take manual control of the transport.
“Do you need to empty your bladder again?” Sift asked, quickly pulling out her notepad. “Is the little one sitting on your bladder?”
Mary looked at her and laughed, shaking her head.
“I’m actually pretty good bladder wise,” she said as she eased the transport to a stop and opened the external door. “Nah, but we mammals get extra clotty in the blood when we are making more mammals. I set the timer to remind me to stop and get my blood flowing every hour or so.”
Sift shimmied out of her restrain harness and scramble over the seat and down after Mary. She made it in time to set up her recorder to catch the beginning of Mary’s exercises. In the gangling mammals a wild windmilling of limbs that would make for an excellent program to scare off avian species from grain-fields. One Mary had ‘got into the flow’ and wouldn’t mind interruptions Sift stood on her hind legs and cleared her throat.
“But you were stretching out in the transport,” she pointed out. “Do you need more room?”
“Changing the seating settings wouldn’t do much,” Mary explained as she awkwardly tried to fold herself in half over her growing belly. “You see how much I need to move.”
“Yes,” Sift agreed as she swayed backwards to avoiding a soft, flailing hand. “And all this, is it absolutely necessary, or just a caution?”
“Eh.” Mary’s face contorted as she pondered that. “Six of one, half a dozen of the other, but if I don’t my changing center of mass pinches my butt in new and interesting ways, and that hurts!”
“Butts must be quite the inconvenience,” Sift observed as Mary, seemingly content with the movement of her joints, set out running around the transport, “all that fat with so few muscles to manage it.
Mary’s laughter fell around her as the human rounded the vehicle.
“Well I couldn’t do without my man’s,” the human pointed out as she passed.
Sift gave a gurgle of amusement and waited to respond till the next lap.
“I too,” she agreed, “appreciate how my mate’s tail waves. It would be well worth a pinch or two in my own.”
Mary staggered to a halt, started at her searchingly, and then nearly doubled over laughing.
Sift blinked a moment, then decided that she had transgressed an amusing rather than offensive cultural boundary and made a note of it.  
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Humans are Weird - Dirty

Humans are Weird - Dirty Notes the Passing Changes gingerly eased the longer stick up, out of the fermented mass of detritus and foreign fungus and bacteria. The nearly dormant domestic culture on the stick immediately began to revive, sending delighted signals up tendrils to Notes the Passing Changes’s local focal nodes. A sense of satisfaction washed through the network as the stick was carefully placed in a balance of fading sunlight and long evening shadow. However the reaction was slower now, almost sluggish and Notes the Passing Changes decided to let the situation rest for the night.

Sandy’s efforts, his singular efforts unaided by any of the other sapients in the colony, to shift the worst of the mass of fermenting biomass had already worked wonders for Notes the Passing Changes’s clarity of thought and clearness of observation in not only this sector of the forest but throughout the local network. The mid-winter floods had been numerous, laying down layer after layer of oxygen poor silt over a critical tendril junction, and the busy spring had prevented the local motile sapients from having the time or energy to shift the mass. Finally Sandy, noting some sign of distress in Notes the Passing Changes had simply gathered a few lever based hand tools and had spent a long day in the forest wet-lands, moving biomass at Notes the Passing Changes directions. Eventually Pat had arrived to order her mate back to their dwelling place for a ‘shower’, food, and rest, but the results were by then more than sufficient for Notes the Passing Changes to continue alone. Satisfied that the local micro-fauna would continue the healing work over the night Notes the Passing Changes shifted awareness focal points to the deadwood dwelling that housed Pat and Sandy.
Notes the Passing Changes politely knocked in the walls to announce the presence of another sapient awareness in the house and tapped into the visual sensors on the houseplant they kept for just such use. Sandy had mumbled a greeting, giving an auditory clue and allowing Notes the Passing Changes to angle the leaves of the plant to observe the human.
Sandy was wearing only a thin layer around his core trunk and was sprawled over the blocky couches humans preferred, holding a cold canister of fluid in one hand. The human did not turn his head to address the communications plant as usual buy only stared at an empty space on the far wall. He was still expressing significant amounts of carbon dioxide, which the plant appreciated, and his thermal image glowed with the low grade injury indicators of successful exercise. His outer membrane however, appeared to be somewhat vasoconstricted, possibly due to a habit of his called a cold shower where he exposed himself to water below the comfort level of a mammal of his size for mysterious health reasons. As Notes the Passing Changes observed the human gave a violent twitch, rubbed a hand over his face and took a small volume drink from the canister.
“I wished to thank you for your assistance today,” Notes the Passing Changes stated.
Sandy released a grunt of air that sounded vaguely happy and adjusted his free hand into a shape that indicated either general approval or agreement.
“I hope you did not over work yourself,” Notes the Passing Changes went on.
“Nah,” Sandy said with a yawn, before his words were interrupted with another shudder. “It was the perfect late spring workout.”
“May I ask why your body is generating those spasms?” Notes the Passing Changes asked, more curious than concerned.
It was clear that Sandy’s body was glowing with mammalian health, and if to confirm this the human burst out laughing.
“Noticed that did ya?” He asked. “Well in case you hadn’t noticed all that muck I was forking around today was nasty!”
“Indeed,” Notes the Passing Changes agreed. “I did notice. That is why I requested assistance in shifting it.”
“Nasty an’ mucky,” Sandy went on with another shudder, “an’ it got all down in me’ clothes. Sticks poking me’ skin. More than a bit ‘o muck in me’ eyes, and nose, and mouth. Fling enough muck and it goes everywhere. Sticking to me’ back and me’ front, and even in me’ shoeen!”
“Yes,” Notes the Passing Changes agreed again. “I observed that at the time. What is resulting in your shuddering movements now?”
Sandy drew and deep breath and stared at the wall a long moment before answering.
“Can still feel ‘em,” he muttered before taking another drink.
“Did you not just ‘shower’ to remove all particles from your outer membrane?” Notes the Passing Changes asked.
Sandy nodded and went to take another drink only to find the canister empty. He looked into it mournfully before shuddering again and swinging his body upright with some sounds of effort.
“Washed up good,” he agreed as he lumbered towards the kitchen, “but I’ll still be feeling all the muck and bits till my brain gets as good a clean as my body.”
“And how will you do that?” Notes the Passing Changes asked in growing interest.
Every text book said the human brain was well protected against particulate contamination.
“Sleep,” Sandy said in an almost reverent tone as he reached the sink and began to refill the canister. “Can’t just yet, else I’ll be up with the moon, but it’ll take a good night’s sleep to get the bits of muck out o’ my brain.”
Sandy wandered back into the resting area and dropped onto the couch. Notes the Passing Changes decided to wait until Pat was out of her shower to peruse the topic as Sandy still seemed more interested in that empty spot on the wall.


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Humans are Weird - Contextual

Humans are Weird - Contextual  Second Sister stepped lightly into the mechanics bay and ducked as a massive fleshy hand, pockmarked with several new lacerations she noted with a sense of tired frustration, swung at her and nearly struck her head. The human it was attached to, First Mechanic, a mid-sized male with depressing medical habits was energetically talking to the wall mounted comm unit. As usually he seemed to have forgotten that the device was more than advanced enough to accommodate multiple species and was bent nearly double to address it.
“-in the south bay-frag! Sorry Sis! Didn’t hit you did I? No? Yeah it’s gotta be there, that’s where all the flame producing tools go since the incident with the magnesium… try under the bench?”
“You did not make contact with me. Stand. Up.” Second Sister snapped out.
First Mechanic shot her a distracted grin as he unfurled his body like some very strange seed pod ripening.
“You need to take care of that bizarre internal skeleton of yours!” Second Sister scolded him. “Just because you can’t see the joints doesn’t mean that you can ignore them.”
“No!” First Mechanic snapped, his eyes flicking back to the comm, “I told you I haven’t touched it in months! It should be there.”
Second Sister drew in a deliberately loud sigh over her lung and walked over to the workbench with the dense fabric repair tools. She chose the awl she needed and spread out the strap she had brought in for alterations. Before she could begin however the bench suddenly shifted and a cheerful voice called out.
“Do you need help with something?”
Second Sister started and drew back as Third Mechanic scrambled out from a tub on a lower shelf. The Shatar flicked her proboscis out and licked at at eye to calm herself.
“Thank you but no,” she said firmly. “I need to do this myself.”
“Do you mind if I observe?” the Undulate asked as he scrambled up and displaced several loose tools to make a place for himself at the far end of the bench.
“So long as you do not touch my work,” Second Sister said firmly as she spread the strap out again and lifted the awl.
Behind her the human continued to flail his thick arms about and contort his hands, to her side the Undulate was clearly angling half his appendages to watch her work and half to observe the human. Second Sister drew in a deep breath and set down the tool.
“Third Mechanic,” she said, carefully to not sound judgmental, “is First Mechanic carrying on two conversations at once?”
The Undulate spread his appendages in surprise and gave a thoughtful hum.
“Not so far as I can tell,” he replied. “Why do you ask?”
“It seems that he is talking to the person on the other side of the comm with his voice and gesturing to you at the same time,” Second Sister explained. “However I was not aware that humans could thus divide their attention safely, and he is in the workshop where attention should be carefully directed.”
The Undulate gave a rumble of amusement and came forward to pat her hand gently.
“You Shatar are so cautious about such things,” Third Mechanic said in a fond tone and Second Sister tried not to bristle at the tone. “No, no, he is not talking to me and he is fully focused on his conversation with Human Biologist George. The gestures are simply Human Friend Bruce communicating the exact location of, and how to get full access the tool they are discussing.”
“Please remove yourself from my workspace,” Second Sister said as she mulled over that.
She raised the hammer and placed the first few necessary holes in the strap before responding.
“The wall mounted comm unit does not have a functional video system,” she finally observed.
“Yes, yes,” the Undulate murmured. “It busted as the humans say some weeks ago-”
Third Mechanic’s voice cut off and his appendages all curled down into what the humans called a ‘thinking loaf’ as he mulled over that.
“I sound your confusion,” he finally said, “but perhaps this is simply a habit of good communication?”
“Did First Mechanic usually use the video feature when it was active?” Second Sister asked as she tested the flexibility of the strap.
“No,” the Undulate admitted, before taking a long ‘thinking loaf’ pause, and then tossing the majority of his mass up to wave at First Mechanic, incidentally throwing off the placement of the next hole and nearly ruining the strap. “Human Friend Bruce! Why are you speaking in gestures if Human Biologist George can’t see you?”
“Just a tic,” First Mechanic said into the comms and turned to blink slowly at them.
Second Sister hoped that the set of her antenna was enough evidence that she was not responsible for this very rude interruption.
“I’m not using speech gestures,” he said after a long look at his hands. “I think, moving my hands like this, like I was there looking for it myself, helps me find the right memory?”
The human turned back to the comm.
“Yeah, sorry, think I was freaking out Cuddlesalot,” he said to presumably the human on the line.
“Not freaked out, just confused,” the Undulate assured him. “How about that? I didn’t know that humans could physically stimulate memory!”
Second Sister reached out and firmly pushed the Undulate out of her workspace. He went cheerfully, still chattering about the mysteries of human memory and communication.  
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Humans are Weird - Sweet Success

Humans are Weird - Sweet Success  First Sister was clicking softly to herself as she carefully counted out the correct number of avian eggs into the incubators. This particular species, one that was both very social and a pleasing color to Shatar and humans alike was highly valued and the decision to encourage production on an industrial level had been fairly easy. By gathering eggs from the wild nests of human habituated pairs while the females were still in the process of laying their clutch they were able to encourage the females to lay more eggs and were able to ‘hand raise’ individuals for the twenty-generation long domestication process. These would be the secondary generation, selected for genetic diversity, tamed from laying but entirely undomesticated. Hopefully in a few dozen years they would have a population of fully domesticated avians with a genetic predisposition for pest control. They would be immeasurably useful in the aquatic gardens to keep down the invertebrate pests. As First Sister placed the final egg in its slot and closed the door of the incubator she gave one final happy click.

She stepped back and titled her triangular head at the ambient lighting, low enough that it was dangerous for the human team members, it was perfectly adequate for Shatar eyes, more used to dense overhead canopies and it mimicked the lighting conditions under a nesting mother avian. The incubator of course controlled the humidity and temperature of the eggs, and provided a constant low murmur of human and Shatar voices and ambient movement sounds, set at the same volume that the developing embryos would experience in their colonies. The faint snatches of daily conversation whispered over her antenna and frill.
Suddenly the ambient hatchery peace was broken by a muted bang, a sound as of metal being placed under too much strain, then a thump as of a massive mammalian body striking the floor, a vocalization that was thankfully denoted more frustration than pain, and finally some shouted coherent words.
“I’m fine!”
First Sister drew a deep breath through her lung and stepped out of the incubation room and waved for her various sister and aunts to go back to their work. She would call for help if Human First Ornithologist was more than usually obstreperous. First Sister followed the erratic vibrations in the floor of the structure to the brood aviary. The large room, sides partly open to the surrounding swamp, partly enclosed to allow for thermal management, was just as dim as the rest of the compound and more difficult to light to human safety requirements due to the need to keep the fuzzy little hatchlings mentally stable. Moreover the restrictive barriers meant to keep local predators away from the hatchlings were the perfect height to catch humans on the massive bone that supported the majority of their weight. First Sister found Human First Ornithologist clutching the wall beside the First Aid shelf digging through the bandages with a wide and triumphant grin on her face. Her pheromones spoke lightly of pain, but that was nearly covered in a wash of success endorphins, a heady smell at any time coming off the massive mammals, but in the enclosed, humid space of the brood aviary it nearly made First Sister a little giddy.
“Did the shin breakers get you again First Ornithologist?” First Sister asked, remembering the human politeness of blaming the inanimate object involved rather than the obvious human error.
First Ornithologist blinked at her in confusion for a moment, before her face lit up with understanding and she laughed. The human grabbed the broad bandage she had been reaching for, one a Shatar would only have used for a broad surface medical application, but humans used to assist membrane regrowth, and folded one of her thick legs up to get access to her shin.
“No,” she said as she peeled up the protective layers of the loose body glove humans wore in these situations where they expected to encounter a high level of dirt and muck.
The tighter under-layer, made white specifically to contrast human blood, was already stained with the red liquid, refuting the denial. First Ornithologist hissed as she peeled down the inner layer and revealed the abraded flesh layers. First Sister did not cringe back in horror but she did feel her antenna curl and her frill tighten, something First Ornithologist seemed to notice as well.
“I mean not like usual,” First Ornithologist explained with a laugh as she sprayed the disinfectant over her injury and slapped the bandage on. She waited the required moment for the bandage to adhere and then restored the now blood stained inner layer and the outer layer to their places.
“What caused that then,” First Sister asked, indicating the injury with a flick of her fingers.
“The baby duckies!” First Ornithologist declared, her voice spiking in pitch to something nearly a squeal as she bounced on her toes.
“They attacked you?” First Sister asked, the words indicated it, but the humans tone did not.
The human laughed and shook her head.
“So you know how Primary Clutch North Five has still been consistently panicking when I go into the pen to feed and socialize them?” First Ornithologist asked.
First Sister tilted her head in acknowledgment.
“Well not only didn’t they panic when I came in this time,” the human went on as she rearranged the First Aid kit, “but they actually, well two of them at least, came up to me before I even poured the food in their dish, and as soon as I poured it the whole clutch came running up to me, well to the food dish, and started eating before I left. They were looking right at me the whole time too, and they were so calm!”
First Ornithologist paused for appreciation and beamed as First Sister agreed that this was a very promising advancement.
“If we can get the primary generation fully tamed it will make the domestication process so much easier,” First Ornithologist went on.
“And how did that result in your injuries?” First Sister interjected before the conversation grew too far off towards the light of perceived success.
The human paused, and her eyelids blinked rapidly as she redirected her thoughts.
“Oh,” she said. “When I tried to get out of the pen after socialization time was over there were like, four duckies on my feet, and I was trying not to step on them and I tripped, and so I didn’t fall on the duckies I grabbed the wall, and then the support, and then I banged my shin on the shin breaker, but I didn’t hurt any of the duckies!”
First Sister tried to get a bit more information out of the human, but the conversation kept switching back to how happy the human was that the socialization efforts were going so well.
“Domesticated alien duckies in my lifetime,” she kept repeating.
First Sister heaved a sigh and decided to let the matter of the injury drop until it could be reported to the human’s assigned medic. Apparently duckies were more important than abraded shins.  
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Humans are Weird - Don't Talk About It

Humans are Weird - Don't Talk About It  The transport, a wheeled thing of a design that was outmoded when the colony was first settled but that still somehow functioned too well to be recycled, rattled and bumped over what was nominally called a road. The surface was torn and grooved by the passage of many of the large domestic beasts that the humans maintained. Despite the stabilizers built around the mobile work space Prodsandprods still had to work constantly to keep his samples from dissipating out of their containment units. It was with profound relief that he felt the water in the tank give one final slosh, a moment aborted by the fact that the space had been filled to maximum capacity, before settling into stillness. The water still wasn’t quite calm when the top rotated off and several inviting slaps sounded on the surface. ProdsandProds gave a few final touches to the sample growths to ensure they would stay in their respective places and swam eagerly to the surface of the water.
“Are you ready to gather more samples?” Prodsandprods asked as he scrambled out of the mobile work space.
Human Friend Philip turned his head and frowned at Prodsandprods causing the Undulate to hesitate. Normally the human would have his long, jointed appendages held up to assist Prodsandprods down while his exposed skin danced with the light of anticipation. However now Human Friend Philip’s arms were held tight to his sides while his gripping appendages shifted constantly, project the sense of unease even if there were no words in the movements.
“Human Friend Philip?” Prodsandprods asked, making sure to put concern into his voice.
The human turned not only his head but his entire body away from the transport and towards the wide section of the river they had arrived at.
“Not sure if we can get in there today Prods,” Human Friend Philip said. “I don’t like the way the river looks.”
Prodsandprods gave a hum of concern and lifted most of his mass out of the comforting mass of the work space. He took a moment to let the thin atmosphere dry his outer membrane until he could taste the specific moisture from the river. The moisture carried with it many organic chemicals, a complex mix that suggested flooding. From what he could absorb of the ambient light the features of the riverbed were far more obscured by the presence of suspended material than usual though the level of the river was consistent with its usual state when they took samples here.
“There appears to have been some flooding,” ProdsandProds observed as he started down the side of the work space on his own. “Why would that prevent us from taking samples? Is the flow force too great?”
Human Friend Philip glanced at the device attached to his wrist and shook his head.
“That’s not it,” he said. “I was more concerned about the turbidity. You can’t see anything in the water today.”
“What does visibility have to do with safety?” Prodsandprods asked as he lifted his sample kit from the carrying shelf and began trekking towards the dock.
Human Friend Philip gave him a perplexed look but followed with the uneasy movements of his gripping appendages increased.
“If I can’t see how do I know what’s down there?” he finally asked.
Prodsandprods hummed thoughtfully as they reached the end of the dock and he set out his tools.
“Yes,” he mused as he arranged the sampling pods he would need in his carry satchel. “Humans are very dependent on sight.” He finished his arrangements and lifted his lagging end to get Human Friend Philip’s attention. “You will just have to navigate by the feel of the current! You have that ability!”
“Barely!” Human Friend Philip said, his main appendages starting to move again, albeit with exasperation. “By the time I feel the current bulge of an approaching object it’s way too late for me to dodge. What if there are like, sharp wood spars in the water?”
“That is what the safety nets upstream are for, nothing that registers as a threat will make it past them,” Prodsandprods pointed out. “Just put on your facemask if you are concerned about possible pathogens and then you will have access to the lidar.”
“Yeah,” Human Friend Philip agreed, though his body still twitched with unease.
Prodsandprods slipped into the water and was busily taking samples when he heard the massive splash of the human entering the water. They worked around the sample grid they had laid out at the beginning of the season and Prodsandprods couldn’t help noticing that every so often Human Friend Philip would occasionally jerk and then thrash, before returning to his work. They finished the grid and ProdsandProds swam up to Human Friend Philip and carefully adjusted his speech for underwater communication.
“We have plenty of extra time and the thermal levels of the water and within the safety zones,” Prodsandprods said with an inviting play wriggle, as always glad that that translated to Human kinesthetics so well. However instead of responding to the invitation Human Friend Philip only thrashed again, this time kicking one leg wildly.
“What keeps touching me?” He demanded using his hands to gesture the words. “This one has my ankle and won’t let go!”
Prodsandprods drifted down and found what had tangled around the human’s ankle. It came off easily and Prodsandprods swam back up.
“I removed it from your leg,” he informed the human. “Shall we use the rest of our time for recreation?”
“What was it?” the human demanded.
“It was one of the waste clumps from the local domestic animals,” Prodsandprods informed him. “The flooding must have reached their grazing pastures upstream and the dried fecal matter is drifting-”
Human Friend Philip suddenly went very, very still, his massive body drifting in the slight current along the bank. Then the human’s limbs twitched violently, his main appendages formed the gesture for ‘no’ and possibly something meant to be vulgar, and Human Friend Philip struck out for the surface at full speed. By the time Prodsandprods caught up with him Human Friend Philip had reached the dock and was stripping off his protective suit.
“I am not swimming for fun when poop strings are grabbing my ankles Prods,” the human growled out before Prodsandprods could speak. “You and your freaky, impossible immune system have have fun with that. I am going to set up water purifier and the shower,” the human gulped took a deep breath, “and we will never speak of this again.”
Prodsandprods observed with concern that Human Friend Philips’s colors were tending towards illness and he climbed out, shaking the water off of his appendages.
“A sterile, hot shower does sound nice,” Prodsandprods agreed, wondering what had caused this reaction. Surely the microbe load in the water had not been enough to overwhelm the human’s protective equipment. There was of course the psychological factor…
“You touch the fecal matter of those domestic animals frequently,” Prodsandprods pointed out. “What was different in the situation where the current made it touch you?”
Human Friend Philips’s lights positively flushed with nausea and he physically staggered catching himself on the truck.
“We will not speak of this,” he breathed out, voice catching, before forcing himself upright and beginning the process of pulling out the proper tubes for the sterile shower.
Prodsandprods decided to wait until the human looked better before requesting more of an explanation of why touching dry fecal matter on land caused such massive difference in reaction from being touched by wet fecal matter in the water.  
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