Betty Adams's Blog, page 8

Humans are Weird - Just a Baby

Humans are Weird - Just a Baby  Hst’tk secured the final strap to the hover-platform and gave a satisfied click as the machine hummed to life and lifted off the ground.
“Are you sure about this?” asked his lab assistant.
“Quite!” Hst’tk assured the fluffy young thing. “The rules about using laboratory equipment are quite clear and I stayed well withing their bounds. The entire object was printed in the off hours and with my own personal materials. I was quite sure to keep the memory use and mechanical wear within stated levels.”
His lab assistant shuffled all six paws that were on the ground and fiddled with his datapad as he waited the polite six seconds.
“That is not quite what I meant,” the lab assistant finally articulated carefully. “The creatures you printed out, the number and placement of the legs, the size of the claws, the number and size of the eyes…” the fluffy young thing trailed off, his fur fluffed out in mild unease.
Hst’tk paused with one paw on the hover-platform and gave his directed attention to the lab assistant in surprise. Something was clearly bothering him. They waited while the lab assistant got his thought web in proper shape before speaking again.
“Is not this a gift for a human child?” the lab assistant asked, paws now almost dancing with unease.
“It is,” Hst’tk confirmed, completely at a loss for what pattern the assistant was weaving.
“Would not a human child find such a body shape, I think horrifying is the word,” the lab assistant finally blurted out.
Hst’tk rocked his weight back on his hind legs and let his chelicerae work silently as he pondered that.
“I had not considered,” he finally murmured. “The child’s mother assured me that the child had expressed an interest in such creatures…”
The lab assistant perked up and seemed eager to say something so Hst’tk ceased speaking.
“Humans have strong conceptions on what is the appropriate size for such creatures,” he pointed out.
“They do,” Hst’tk agreed. “I will show the gift first to the mother and let her decide if the child is old enough to deal with the fear response.”
The lab assistant visibly relaxed and Hst’tk set out across the university campus. The human residential structures were quite some distance from the printing labs and Hst’tk had to climb aboard the hover platform and ride it through the main traffic paths. Larger human and Shatar hover-platforms moved around him and the warm afternoon winds stirred his hairs comfortably. He exited the traffic patterns when he saw the soil-toned dome that was Human Friend Maud’s dwelling and rode the hover-platform to the window-ledge landing pad they had installed for him. He tapped one set of claws against the window and returned to the hover-platform to unsecure the package while he waited for Human Friend Maud to respond.
She opened the window with a cheerful greeting and lifted the box with casual ease in one gripping appendage when he gestured for her too. He followed her inside where she sat the box on the table.
“Lovely day for a hover,” she said. “Would you care for some tea?”
“I would!” Hst’tk agreed eagerly.
His hostess bustled about preparing the massive water heating unit and various dried herbs and by the time Hst’tk was comfortably settled she presented him with a large drinking-pipe of something that smelled of the flower humans called roses. She drank her own tea, probably the kind full of herbaceous pesticides meant specifically to prevent mammals from harvesting the leaves, and they rested in companionable silence for awhile.
“What was it you wanted to show me?” Maud finally asked.
Hst’tk took a sip of the tea and gestured at the container with a free hand.
“I have made a gift for May’s hatching day,” he explained.
Maud’s face lit up with delight.
“That was so sweet of you!” she exclaimed.
“However,” Hst’tk went on, “after conversation and consideration I am no longer convinced that it is quite appropriate for her age group and I would like to to examine it before I gift it to her.”
“Ah,” Maud bobbed her head up and down in a gesture of understanding and her smile changed to one of sympathy.
She reached for the container and stared blanking at the plain gray surface for several long moments. Hst’tk was wondering if she thought the container was the gift when she began to uncertainly twist at the edges of the container with her powerful hands. Hst’tk tried to keep the amusement out of his voice when he spoke.
“The container opens by pressing in the center of any of the longer sides.”
Maud shot him an amused look and did as he instructed revealing the simulated creature inside the container. The initial startled look on her face told her that their concerns had been right. Maud was clearly fighting to keep her reaction to the gift neutral but the ginger way she lifted the mock-creature from the box was indication enough that it was triggering some deep avoidance instinct. She rotated the item and flexed its primary gripping claws.
“This is,” she said slowly. “Excellent material choice. Firm enough to stand but soft enough to be comfortable for a toddler to clutch.”
There was a long pause as she rotated it and then paused to look at the main sensory patch on the top of the fairly flattened main body.
“That is a lot of eyes,” she said unease clear in her tone.
Hst’tk shook himself and set his six legs cheerfully.
“That was my lab assistant’s comment as well. I suppose the best think to do is melt this down and-”
“No,” Maud interrupted without looking at him, her eyes still locked on the mock-creature. “May likes these freaky little crab things. Spends hours looking at the ones in her tank. Would you mind giving her a chance to accept or reject it on sight?”
Hst’tk hesitated.
“From your reaction, as an adult,” he said slowly, “isn’t there a chance it might traumatize her?”
“Maybe,” Maud agreed as she set the mock-creature on a seat beside her, “but hey, a little emotional trauma is good for the soul at that age.”
Hst’tk wondered a bit about human parental philosophy but agreed to her proposal and Maud twisted around and roared out her daughter’s name. The sound of immature human footfalls came from another room and a much smaller version of Maud in a bright pink cloth covering came scampering into the room. Almost instantly the child’s eyes went from her mother to the mock-creature on the seat. May gasped and her face lit up with delight. Her vector instantly changed and she darted over to snatch up the mock creature. Hst’tk felt a moment of satisfaction, he had made it just about half her volume, so that given its small mass the human child had no problem lifting it. She held it out at arms’ length a moment and then pulled it close to her body, tucking it against the rolls of skin on her neck.
“Momma!” she called out. “See baby caby!”
Maud tightened her face in a way that meant an adult human was concealing a laugh and nodded before she could speak.
“Hst’tk made it for you,” Maud said. “What do you say?”
May’s eyes darted around the table looking for Hst’tk and then she waved one hand eagerly.
“Thank you Fwiend Hissy!” she called out, turning to scamper over to a wheeled toy before he could respond.
“I guess she likes it,” Maud said with a slightly wry laugh. “Good call Hst’tk.”
“I am pleased to have made something so satisfying for her,” he replied watching as she began wrapping the mock-creature in lengths of cloth. “What play behavior is she using it for?” he asked, “cooking?”
Maud gave a snort of laughter and took a sip of her tea.
“Swaddling,” she said. “Didn’t you hear her call that monstrosity a baby? She is, oh what do the anthropologists say? ‘expressing her nascent maternal instinct.”
Hst’tk paused in drinking his tea as he watched the child with growing curiosity.
“She is expressing nascent maternal instinct,” he said slowly, “on a mock-creature that you identified as a monstrosity.”
“Eh, kids,” Maud said with a shrug. “Who knows what they’ll be up to next.”


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Humans are Weird - Alarming

Humans are Weird - Alarming  Flume slipped awake from a dream of gnawing on a perfectly stale bun, that delicious golden kind that was just the right size to fit in the joint of your jaw and flavored your whole mouth with warm bread. With a regretful sigh Flume came awake and carefully extracted the soft fiber sack that Victor used to keep all his weird joints in alignment when he fell into that deep state of torpor that was so necessary to humans. Flume grimaced and ran his tongue over his teeth. It wasn’t that the clean sack tasted bad exactly, but when your dreams were filling your nose with the smell of perfect bread waking up to the taste of vegetative fibers was a serious disappointment.
Flume gave a careful stretch, mindful of the breathing patterns of his bedfellow. Victor was pumping out enough heat-units per heartbeat to count as a decently efficient furnace and trapped under the thick blankets the heat soaked deliciously into Flume’s every joint. Flume listened carefully to Victor’s breathing, which was deep and steady, and decided that the human was deep enough in torpor that a quick adjustment was acceptable. Flume snuggled closed up to the warm mass of human muscle on the other side of a thin fiber weave and gave a happy sigh. Flume dropped back into his dream wondering if Victor would mind about any minor damage to the fiber sack.
Flume’s next wake cycle came from a dream of sorting grains by viability and Victor was shifting around. Flume wondered if he a had woken his friend when the air was suddenly pierced by the shrieking of rending metal. Flume jerked up into a sitting position, starting out into the cool air of the room. Victor groaned and began swinging his body from side to side, before lunging up and staggering to the computer display on the wall. The human sagged against the wall and pawed at the display until the sound, an alarm Flume realized, stopped and then staggered back to the bed. Victor gave a few thrashes that reset the blankets and even made sure to re-secure the blankets over Flume.
“Wasn’t that the wake alarm Victor?” Flume asked as they snuggled down into the mattress.
“Just ten more minutes,” Victor slurred out, tossing an arm around Flume and pulling him close.
“Won’t that make it difficult to complete your morning routine?” Flume asked through a yawn.
“I c’n make it,” Victor assured him. “Can do everything in five if I need to.”
Victor’s breathing slipped back into sleep patterns and Flume considered that. If Victor could complete his entire morning preparation for the day in five (minutes presumably) why did he have his alarms set to wake him an hour before he began his work. Flume had just slipped into sleep again when the sound of rending metal filled the room and once more Victor staggered up, stopped the alarm and crawled back into bed. Flume hummed thoughtfully and pulled the pillow back into his mouth. It didn’t taste that bad and it was decent for a gnaw. What was the point of this behavior? Of setting such a horrible alarm, setting it so one had to leave the comfort of bed and sleep-mate to turn it off, and then just ignoring it?


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The war to end all wars. If ever there was a noble calling, a worthy cause surely it was this. As my grandmother before me, I felt bound in honor to offer my skills to the cause. Not as a nurse, as she did, most worthy woman, but as a doctor, a surgeon, to enter the field of battle, of honor, of glory.
Perhaps had I not been so arrogant my fate would have been different, perhaps not, shells fall on the prideful and humble alike, and my mind, body, and health shattered I found myself invalided in the home of my Uncle’s friend, Mycroft Holmes, the great sea itself between myself and home.
I am told that I will be made useful in some capacity and I think I could be quite content here, if only I can find a way to control my temper with the younger Holmes brother. The man will go out of his way to be vexing, it cannot only be my shattered nerves that makes it seem so.
Excerpt from the journal of Doctor Johana Hariet Watson
​
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The war to end all wars. If ever there was a noble calling, a worthy cause surely it was this. As my grandmother before me, I felt bound in honor to offer my skills to the cause. Not as a nurse, as she did, most worthy woman, but as a doctor, a surgeon, to enter the field of battle, of honor, of glory.
Perhaps had I not been so arrogant my fate would have been different, perhaps not, shells fall on the prideful and humble alike, and my mind, body, and health shattered I found myself invalided in the home of my Uncle’s friend, Mycroft Holmes, the great sea itself between myself and home.
I am told that I will be made useful in some capacity and I think I could be quite content here, if only I can find a way to control my temper with the younger Holmes brother. The man will go out of his way to be vexing, it cannot only be my shattered nerves that makes it seem so.
Excerpt from the journal of Doctor Johana Hariet Watson

Humans are Weird - On Par

​“Really,” muttered Eighth Click as he landed by St’Stck. “This is just downright insulting!”
St’Stck, showing great amounts of self control he rather thought, refrained from heaving a dramatic sigh as Eighth Click pushed into his personal space on the high perch that overlooked the broad open space that served the humans as a recreational ground, the quad, as they called it.
St’stck could not assume that the statement needed any response so he settled back down to where he had nominally been watching the match between the two teams of humans hurling a lightweight plastic disc back and forth over a net suspended in the air. Really, at this distance it was all rather a blurry patch of movement, but the cheerful sounds of human exertion that drifted over the quad to his sensory hairs, the warmth of the local sun, the stated fact that teams changed quickly and he would not be required to recognize a ‘winner’, and the swirls of movement made for a relaxing state of meditation. Or rather it had.
“As if any winged with his horns attached wouldn’t be able to dodge such a giant, slow moving mass!” Eighth Click was going on, working himself up into a fury as indicated by the way his fur rippled in eerie waves down his body. “As to getting smacked or grabbed by a human! If any Winged has the energy to lift off the perch we have the speed and dexterity to-”
St’Stck edged away slowly trying to slip back into the easy meditative stated he had been in before this nuisance had landed beside him. The swirling patters of human movement were very soothing and he was quite ignoring irritating voice when it changed cadence and pitch suddenly to a directed question.
“What did you ask?” St’Stck asked, “I wasn’t listening.” He wondered when he had stopped being horrified by having to make such an admission.
“Why would Susie lie about her abilities?” Eighth Click presumably repeated. “Is it some sort of long term competitive behavior?”
St’Stck stiffened up a bit. He didn’t know this Susie by name but as irritating as Eighth Click was he was usually astute in his observations of human behavior.
“What was Human Susie lying about?” He asked.
“You really weren’t listening,” Eighth Click observed with a snort and a toss of his head. “She as always been quite adamant to me that she was bad at this game.”
Eighth Click, for a wonder, actually paused as if he expected a reaction from St’Stck and was giving him time to think about his response.
“What game are they playing?” St’Stck asked. “I can’t actually see details at this distance and they have never explained it to me.”
Eighth Click made a sound of surprise and rubbed his horns thoughtfully.
“It is an object to forbidden zone game,” he explained, speaking slowly for a Winged. “They have that lightweight flat disc that is designed as a wing surface with no inherent directonality. The humans catch and fling the wing surface with their hands over an obstical that sepearates the two forbiden zones. The goal is to get the wing surface to strike the ground in your opponents forbidden zone.” Eighth Click paused again and St’Stck pondered this.
“And Human Susie claimed to have little skill at this, but you judge that she has much skill at this game?” St’Stck asked.
Eighth Click bounced his body about in a Winged gesture of confirmation.
“She swore to me that she lacked the hand eye coordination to catch the wing surface, the coordination to fling it directionality, and the power to fling it any useful distance,” he explained, “and she is nowhere near the best player on the field but she is frequently catching the wing surface and directing it with intention.”
Eighth Click actually let silence fall over their thought as St’Stck ground this between his mandibles. Though St’STck could see that Eighth Click was twitching to prompt him to speech.
“Human Susie is not one to exagerate or mistate her abilitys in my observation arc,” St’Stck finally said.
“Oh I agree!” Eighth Click interjected. “That is why this is nipping my wingtips!”
“She is however fairly young in comparison to the other humans on this campus,” St’Stck mused, rubbing his chilcerae thoughtfully with one paw.
“What does that have to do with the topic?” Eighth Click asked .
“Those massive brains humans have,” St’Stck said. “I am under the impression that they do no fully finish developing till a human closes in on thirty of their standard years.”
Eighth Click actually paused and that and gave a thoughtful chirp.
“Human Susie is only twenty-five standard Earth years,” St’Stck observed.
“Maybe the last time she played this game she really was as bad as she said,” Eighth Click mused. “She did tell me that she hadn’t attempted the game in many years and was only doing so now because a particularly friendly human had pressed her into it.”
“It must be quite strange to have a feel for you abilities for many years, and then have that changed by a game,” St’stck observed.
“I suppose so,” Eighth Click agreed. “Like going bald, but in reverse.”
St’Stck absently patted his own head to check for thinning.  
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Humans are Weird - Boom Boom

Humans are Weird - Boom Boom ​Fsts’ks adjusted his safety helmet, it was a disturbing shade of yellow, something that was supposed to be universally visible to the seven sapient species, and made a quick survey of the surrounding area. The cool morning breezes were filtering through the young trees that surrounded a wide open area the humans had been using for some form of recreation the previous day. Something red had caught Fsts’ks attention fluttering out in the open area and he wished, not for the first time, that he had brought his hover transport. Up in the trees it was fairly easy to keep at human eye level and maintain safe interactions, however out here on the ground where a human didn’t expect to see one, well it could get dangerous with their giant flat paws slapping into the ground every time they lost their balance.
Fsts’ks lifted his distance magnifier and examined the fluttering red thing on the ground. It looked like a rather greasy piece of paper. Fsts’ks brushed the hairs on his chelicerae against his mandible, trying to identify the odd, bitter taste that lingered this close to the ground. He angled the magnifier around the filed and clicked disappointingly at the sheer number of the paper fragments revealed. He mused that for human hands, and eyes, those would be very small pieces and perhaps difficult to notice. He tucked his magnifier into his satchel and deliberately circled in place, looking for the distant movements that might indicated a human running across the open space. Deciding that particular danger wasn’t relevant today, and again wishing he had brought out his hover transport. Fsts’ks scampered across the clearing to the scrap of paper and tried not to think about the vast stretch of open sky above him. He reached the item snatched it up and shoved it into this satchel before turning with relief back to the relative protection of the young forest. Once in the shade he un-fluffed enough to pull out the scrap and examine it.
The paper was obviously the source of the bitter taste and now that he had it in his paws he was able to identify the chemical. Which caused him to fluff right back up. The paper absolutely reeked of simple chemical explosives. Fsts’ks reached up and smoothed down the fur under his safety helment.
“This requires more information,” he muttered to himself.
With a sigh he shoved the paper in his satchel and began the long trot to the nearest communication log. The log itself was poised next to a pool of water and was pleasantly cool, filled the surrounding air with delicious organic compounds, and various fungus had been grown to provide easy steps up to the communication surface. Fsts’ks mounted to the surface and stared in mild amusement at the roughly Trisk shaped bundle of sticks, dried leaves, and moss that slumped in a little alcove. He tapped the surface pointed with a back paw. There was a shimmer of silvery movement as the local Gathering infused the little simulacrum with its fibers and the puppet rose to a rather disturbing semblance of life.
“Can I assist you?” Notes the Passing Changes asked, the voice flickering though several sound profiles.
“What happened out in the large meadow yesterday?” Fsts’ks asked, holding out the red paper in explanation.
The simulacrum reached out and touched it, silvery hairs extended out of its paws.
“This is from the combat simulations the human children were running,” Notes the Passing Changes explained.
Fsts’ks ignored how the simulacrum’s chelicerae drooped while he processed that.
“The human children,” he said slowly, “they were running combat simulations with actual explosives?”
“There were a few adults supervising the exercise,” Notes the Passing Changes explained, “and they informed me that these are strictly recreational level explosives, safe for children to use.”
“Was this a planned event?” Fsts’ks asked. “I did not see it on the festivities schedule.”
“No,” Notes the Passing Changes said, the head of the simulacrum rotating in a way that made Fsts’ks flinch back. “The children actually came to to simply play with their solid print warrior toys. They were arranging them into formations when one of the smaller humans suggested using the recreational explosives as mortars. The adults took the roll of artillery support and the children called in air strikes on their toys. It was too dark to clean up the remains afterwards but they will be sending out a cleaning party later today.”
The simulacrum stood poised attentively at the end of that sentence, and Fsts’ks drew in a long breath.
“Thank you,” he said. “I think that is quite enough information for me to process at the moment.”


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Humans are Weird - Hork

Humans are Weird - Hork ​ Sift scrambled down the massive hall and for once the echos didn’t bother her and that unwethered chemical smell that haunted every new human structure barely registered in her nostrils. Her tail waved high behind her with energy that she would have firmly denied as ‘wiggling’. She was no longer a hatching after all. She reached the door she thought she was looking for and stood on her hind legs to peer up at the plate.
“Guest dwelling,” she read, and did not let out a gurgle of excitement, and if she gave a full body wriggle… well this was exciting! The most mature of old matrons could be excused. Sift adjusted her satchel on her back and felt that the gift was secure. She hoped the bolt of natural fiber cloth, made from the chaff of her hometown’s favorite bread grain and laser patterned with an ancient botanists artistic scientific illustration of the fruiting grain heads.
Sift had been delighted to the point of wriggles when research into human gifting customs had revealed that human parents valued such logical and normal hatching gifts, mammals or not, little ones had to be kept warm, and parents liked to keep them warm in a nice, soft, cloth-weave with pretty pictures on them. She thumped the door politely with her tail and scuttled back to wait patiently to be granted entrance. The floor vibrated with the thumps of human footfalls from inside the room and something about them struck Sift as slightly odd, but the door swung open before she could parse it and a much smaller human female than she expected stood blinking down at her holding what appeared to be a damp cloth in one hand.
“Hello!” Sift called out, remembering to wave a fore paw in greeting. “Is Mary in?”
The small human blinked at her again and contorted her face in a frown, not the kind that indicated anger or frustration, rather the kind that indicated confusion or thought. Sift noticed that this human kept her hair much more loosely than Mary did, with stray strands sticking out all over the place. Suddenly the human’s face flexed again, this time showing delight and understanding. The human twister around, rotating her head and shoulders so that she was facing the opposite way while her feet still pointed at Sift. Sift was still schooling her initial horrified reaction to this show of mammalian flexibility when the human screeched out.
“Hey Mary! It’s your friend the midwife lizard!”
There was a rather worrisome groan in reply, but the small human turned and showed all her teeth at Sift in a friendly display.
“We’ve been expecting you!” the human said sticking out one hand. “I’m Martha!”
Sift shuffled forward on her hindlegs to ‘shake’ the human’s long, fragile hand with a click of understanding.
“You are Mary’s little sister!” Sift exclaimed.
“One of ‘em,” the girl said with a vigorous series of nods. “Ma figured Mary’d need some help now that she’s horking her lungs out every morning, least while she’s traveling so they sent me to make sure she drinks her ‘lectrolites and whatnot.”
“Martha!” came a distressed howl from behind the door, followed by what sounded like human vomiting.
“An’ that’s why!” Martha declared, turning and leaving the door open as she rushed, presumably back to her sister’s side as Sift took a moment to decide that that was an invitation and followed her into the common area of the guest dwelling, being mindful to close the door behind her with her tail, but not slam it.
Sift gave a little bark of distress at what she saw. Mary was bent over a bucket, her face an unhealthy pale color, her hair hanging down around her face in even more disarray than Martha’s, breathing heavily. Martha was gathering her hair in one hand and roughly shoving it into an elastic tie. Mary lifted her eyes and smiled wanly at Sift.
“Hel-” the human’s greeting was cut short as her body contorted and her digestive system made what appeared to be a valiant attempt to reverse itself.
“Mary!” Sift called out, “are you sick?”
“Yup!” Martha said cheerfully.
“No!” Mary groaned out as Martha began to wipe her larger sister’s face with the cool towel.
The two sisters exchanged a challenging look and Mary turned back to the bucket before Martha backed down.
“Just morning sickness,” Mary admitted.
“Are you in any danger?” Sift asked coming forward and reaching out to pat the human’s thigh.
“Nope!” Martha answered with a grin as Mary began to heave (producing nothing) into the bucket again. “It’s just a mammal thing. Hormones and stuff when her body is making the baby. Mom got it really bad to. So will I probably.”
“This is a normal part of the reproduction process?” Sift asked, fishing her notepad out of her satchel.
“For some of us,” Mary confirmed. “It’s why I made sure to invite you over so early in the day so you could -”
Her voice cut off and this time her digestive systems successfully voided several measures of stomach contents into the bucket. Sift eagerly took notes. Such action might have been rude to some humans, but Mary had specifically invited her to witness this after all.
“Finally!” Martha sang out in triumph, “now lets get some of that ginger tea down you!” Author Betty Adams Books
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Humans are Weird - Why

Humans are Weird - Why  The wood smoke was curling up through the branches of the thin canopy over the river in a lazy and untamed fashion as First Sister carefully wove the smoke guide that would hopefully make their little gathering that much more comfortable. Human Second Father and Human Second mother didn’t seem to mind the smoke occasionally finding them as they lounged in their folding chairs but First Sister was enjoying the activity and it did seem to prevent Human Second Cousin Betty from attempting to lure her into the water again. Second Cousin was gently coaching Fifth Sister through arranging enough sticks and detritus to start another fire for practice and various thumps and cracks from the underbrush around them indicated where the various human Brothers had dispersed to ‘get more firewood’. Though their efficiency in that task indicated that they were exploring the riverbank more than not.
First Sister gave a satisfied click as she finished the last of the weave work and thrust it into the soft, silty soil of the riverbank beside the ring of stones that contained the fire. She stepped back and watched pleased as the rising air slowly heated the weave work, creating a contorted draft of air that lifted the smoke up, above the heads of even the towering Human Second Father.
“Look at that!” Human Second Father called out, his bifocal eyes rolling to follow the smoke.
“Thank you First Sister,” Human Second Mother said, reaching out her hand to gently pat First Sister between her antenna.
First Sister clicked with pleasure and turned her attention to admiring the newest tiny human that Human Second Mother held. One Fourth Cousin Baby. First Sister had heard other names used for the little one, but Baby was by far the most prominent. The undergrowth rustled and several Human Brothers burst forth and dropped loads of wood in various piles before descending on the snacks stored in a cold-box. First Sister subtly eased closer to Second Cousin and Fifth Sister and gestured reassuringly with her antenna, and they went back to attempting to start the practice fire despite the chaos that had descended on the little riverbank. One of the Human Brother’s hoisted Human Fifth Cousin Baby onto his shoulders and began a hopping dance and song that had Second Cousin chittering with amusement despite how close it took them both to the fire and the rest of the Brothers had produced hatchets and saws and, after being shooed away to safe distances, had set to work reducing the wood to fuel sized fragments.
“The water is wonderful and your First Father said it was safe,” Human Second Cousin Betty declared as she sloshed her way out of the water where she had apparently been collecting small crustaceans in a basket. One of the Human Brothers descended on the basket and snatched it with perfunctory thanks and Human Second Cousin Betty let it go without comment. Taking her long braid of hair and twisting the water out.
“Must you do that?” demanded Second Cousin, clamping her frill to her neck in horror.
The human grinned and nodded.
“Gotta get the extra water out,” she said. “What did you want all the snip-toes for?”
First Sister noted that Human Second Cousin Betty’s attention was fully diverted from her attempts to lure First Sister into the heat stealing, toe abrading river and she relaxed the conversation turned to some aquaponics project a few of the older brothers were maintaining. The conversation drifted to a stop and one of the brother’s commented on the mid-summer heat.
“You’re hot?” Human Second Cousin Betty demanded in surprise.
“You’re not?” the Brother replied, equally surprised.
“No!” Human Second Cousin Betty said as she took a bite of fire roasted meat. “I wonder why?”
First Sister angled her antenna meaningfully and gave an attention click.
“Could it have something to do with the hour you just spent in the water?” she asked indicating the river.
There was a general pause in the conversation around the fire and then the adult humans burst out laughing, followed by the juveniles.
“That would do it,” Human Second Cousin Betty admitted with a grin.
The conversation began climbing it’s natural course a spark indicated that Fifth Sister had successfully started the fire.
Her mentorship done Second Cousin crept closer to First Sister.
“Did she forget she was just in the river?” she asked in low tones.
“I think that humans just store their memory vines differently than we do,” First Sister observed.  
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Humans are Weird - Skritchie

Humans are Weird - Skritchie Doctor Seventh Chirp extended a winghook to turn the page in the book he was reading. It was a fascinating artifact; smelling of forests long dead and the museums that had housed and preserved their harvested bodies. Fragments of pages were missing. The material rustled soothingly as he laid one ancient page down over the other. Which was probably a good think he mused as he stared in slightly horrified fascination of the printed image capture of what happened when a rapidly spinning blade made contact with a human forelimb. He felt the urge for a juice nodule and carefully closed the book and slipped its protective cover over it, feeling the electro-magnetic field crackle into existence.
He hopped away from the reading station and the massive tome built for alien appendages and hesitated as twinges ran through his wings and his feet. He heaved a sigh and began rolling his wings to get the blood flowing again.
“Getting old and smooth is not a pleasant experience,” he muttered as he thrust one leg and then the other out, letting himself rock backwards with the motion until he found himself tucked into one of the wall alcoves.
The light from the setting sun outside was slanting through the atmosphere and filled the space with a soft golden light. Continuing to roll his wings Doctor Seventh Chirp made his way to the launching window and sniffed the warm air appreciatively. He was about to spread his wings for take off when a sudden movement below him caught his attention and his nose frills wrinkled in annoyance. He craned his head around to get a better look and felt a few vertebrae shift.
“And what are you hiding my massive mammalian friend?” he muttered.
Security officer Alexei Drover was moving carefully from one outbuilding to another in a path that could only be designed to shield her from view from the main enclosed quad where most of the campus’s population would be recreating at the this time of day. It would have no doubt been very effective if he hadn’t been lingering in the reading rooms at the back of the library. A set of rooms that most humans did not have a good mental map of as they couldn’t fit in them. The human reached a rear entrance to a room that held low-security medical supplies and waved her security fob at the smooth surface. As the door swung open she braced it and glanced around cautiously, remember to look up into small-Winged sized alcoves he noted with a grim smile. As she did this her hand holding the fob dropped as one massive leg folded up and she vigorously scratched at her shin, grimacing in both anger and pain before slipping into the storage room.
“I doubt she will be in there a short time,” Doctor Seventh Chirp muttered as he debated approaching the door from outside.
His fob did have the proper clearances but opening that door would instantly alert Drover to his presence and furthermore would not give her time to properly begin what she was doing. Instead he chose to hop leisurely along an inner path of the building until he found a much smaller door that led into the pathway that wound around the inner ceiling of the space. Drover had apparently gotten access to the large cold packs, one was laying across the bare skin of her right leg, the adhesive bandages, she was currently applying one to a snout sized lesion on her left leg, and a good sized tube of antibiotic cream. Doctor Seventh Chirp stared in perplexity at the wingspan of bandages she had already applied to that leg. Under the center of each was a rather disturbingly large lump. She finished applying the last bandage with a grunt and reached over to move the cold pack from her right leg to her left. She released a hiss and her face relaxed with relief and the cold mass covered the bandages.
Doctor Seventh Chirp examined the newly exposed chilled skin with growing irritation. A curved line of welts ran from Drover’s toes, up her pale skin in bright red dots, ending about halfway up her shins. The pattern would suggest some terrifying large creature had given her the most gentle of bites but the marks were clearly mammalian skin reaction to some insect bite. What made his nearly smooth head bristle in annoyance was the alternating raised blisters and, small open lesions centering linear abrasions that indicated that the human had been ‘scratching’. Clearly the human had yet to apply the self selected medications to the other side.
Doctor Seventh Chirp heaved an audible sigh and let himself tumble noisily into the air. Drover started, glance over at him and then twisted her face into a scowl. He landed on the cold surface of her toes and glared at the nearest dot, this one had not been abraded, nor had it produced that bubble of fluid, showing only the tiny puncture wound in the center of where the human’s immune system was overreacting.
“You going to snitch?” Drover demand in a voice that was deep, even for a human.
“That is hardly the main thermal of this flight,” Doctor Seventh Chirp replied, deliberately trying to drop his voice into a tone a human would hear as an irritated growl. “You were bitten by some insect with piercing mouth-parts.”
Drover rolled her eyes and muttered a mild profanity to the effect that his observation was obvious. Doctor Seventh Chirp moved to the next lump. The core of inflamed flesh was there but the center was a raised blister, thicker than the length of his winghook. He prodded at the firmer flesh around it and got a wince from his patient and then at the blister getting none.
“Filled with interstitial fluid,” he commented eyeing the pale amber color, “no infection. How did this happen?”
“My footwraps,” Drover growled, shifting the leg he was perched on, but not enough to dislodge him so he ignored the movement. He stared calmly into the wide, concentric circles of her eyes, letting the ‘back depths’ of his own convince her to keep talking. “The skin,” she went on with a frustrated wave of her hand, “it was quite inflamed already. Just the abrasion of the foot wraps, and they are good silk, was enough to cause,” she gestured at the amber blisters with annoyance in every joint, and her face contorted in that odd mix of pain and irritation.
Doctor Seventh Chirp moved on to the next bump and the open sore the diameter of his ear. This one had ruptured ever so slightly deeper than the thick layer of dermal cells and there was a crusted layer of capillary blood seeping slowly out. Doctor Seventh Chirp gave it an aggravated glare and then turned his eyes on the equally aggravated Drover.
“It itched!” she snapped,narrowing her eyelids at him in a glare. The seconds stretched on between them and she faltered first. “I scratched!” she declared, half resentfully, half defiantly. “Like the ancient American, Barbara Pritchie.”
Doctor Seventh Chirp snorted, and held out a wing for the tube of ointment.
“Frietchie,” he said as he examined the contents and grudgingly admitted to himself that Drover had, in fact chosen the correct treatment on her own. He squeeze the proper amount onto the lesion.
“What?” Drover asked, confusion masking the irritation on her face for a moment.
“This great saint of therapeutic scratching that you humans are so fond of quoting,” he explained. “Her defiant virtues were extolled in the poems of one Ogden Nash.” He glared up at the human. “There is no actual evidence that she scratched when itchy, and her name was Frietchie, with an f.” He deliberately forced the difficult sound, one had to tuck ones lips around the back of ones teeth.
Drover’s face wrinkled between amusement and disbelief for a moment before breaking into a wide grin and laughing.
“Adhesive bandage,” Doctor Seventh Chirp snapped but couldn’t quite keep the amusement out of his own voice. “As admirable as personal courage might be,” he went on, “it is still inadvisable to scrape off layers of skin at the behest of instinct.”
“Says you,” Drover commented, but she kept her hands a respectable distance from her abraded skin so Doctor Seventh Chirp decided to leave it at that.


Author Betty Adams Books
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Humans are Weird - Chilly

Humans are Weird - Chilly  The summer air was pleasantly full of mammalian chemical trails that, if one followed any one of the with one’s attention, led to a working, or even more satisfactorily, recreating mammal. The humans with the gargantuan biomass left such clear traces of their presence that one could bask in their presence even after they left the immediate area. This was a thread that was almost like the Gathering themselves.
Notes the Passing Changes let awareness drift down the main path where the taste of Sandy’s lingering effort spoke of deliberate attempts to harden muscles. The long winter, the busy spring, and the distractions attendant on coming reproduction had reduced the human to a notably smaller percentage of previously acquired mass and Notes the Passing Changes empathized with the effort of regaining lost biomass when there was so much going on. It was not like a human could simply request that the other species donate stored rotting plant matter either.
The trail – unsurprisingly – led Notes the Passing Changes to the dwelling nook Sandy and Pat were preparing for the complete budding of the little human who was already changing both their profiles so distinctly. Notes the Passing Changes idly wondered why they had not made a formal announcement of the addition to the colony yet but had been observing humans for long enough to understand that asking about such things could be probing a strand into chemically unstable soil. Awareness came first to the roots deliberately grown into the walls of the dwelling which Notes the Passing Changes rattled loudly until both humans gave a shout of welcome, then awareness could politely infuse the leafy evergreen shrubs the humans kept in the communal areas for communication.
“And how are ye doing this fine day?” Sandy asked from the couch where he was letting his limbs sprawl out.
“Quite well,” Notes the Passing Changes replied, feeling the soundness of the tendrils in the communication plant, they might need replacing soon, there was a trace of reverberation in the voice that was not pleasant, “and you?”
“Fair to middlin’, fair to middlin’,” Sandy said in a confident tone, raising a glass of water in demonstration of something.
The humans had not activated the internal lights of the room, and were relying on the light from the windows. That was enough to make the mostly bare skin of the male human glow. The thin wrap of colored plant matter that the human wore belted around his waist had let the summer sunlight turn his skin pink, and if Notes the Passing Change was any judge Sandy had pushed the limits of his ultraviolet light tolerances in his effort to build muscle mass earlier.
“Any reason for dropping in Notes?” Pat asked without looking up from the document she was writing on the screen in front of her.
“Social interaction,” Notes the Passing Changes replied studying the other human with some confusion.
While Sandy’s every fiber indicated being in warmth that threatened to be almost too much for comfort, Pat was wrapped in multiple layers of insulating cloth. A leaf of particular reflectivity was that her outermost layer was a thick winter coat that Notes the Passing Changes knew she had put away in long storage several weeks ago. It still smelled of the anti-fungal spray she had applied in the expectation that the chemical would have many more months to degrade.
“Are you comfortable Pat?” Notes the Passing Changes asked, trying to put concern into the odd tones produced by the old tendrils.
She gave a grunt of mild surprise and glanced over at the communication plant.
“Aye,” she said, and then bent over her work again.
Notes the Passing Changes mulled over the situation for several long moments while Sandy made light conversation about the compaction of the running paths.
“Only it is somewhat odd,” Notes the Passing Changes observed, in a pause in Sandy’s speech.
“What’s odd?” Sandy asked.
“That Pat seems to need to conserve heat in this ambient temperature when her mass is so much greater than yours,” Notes the Passing Changes stated.
The sudden silence in the room was the first clue that a social norm had been transgressed. Sandy had suddenly pulled his limbs into a more rigidly aligned from, was making eye contact with a storage unit on the opposite side of the room from his mate, and after a moment seemed to be restraining laughter. Pat had stiffened, shot a look of emotion unknown to Notes the Passing Changes towards the communication plant, before slamming her writing screen down on the table surface and announcing.
“I’m getting some fresh air.”
“Did I offend?” Notes the Passing Changes asked when all that was left in the room was the taste of her.
Sandy gave up on his attempts to restrain his laughter and fell back into a more relaxed position.
“Pat’s got circulation issues,” Sandy explained, clearly avoiding the concept of offense, “even it if its right balmy out she needs to wrap up sometimes. She’s been needing to do it more often than usual though.” He took a sip of his drink and gave a thoughtful hum. “Pretty common too,” he observed, “the lassies do run a bit cooler than the lads on the usual.”
Notes the Passing Changes took a moment to compare that to memory strands from the spring when the humans’ thermo-envalopes were the most noticeable. A quick comparison did show that human males tended to express more thermal energy than the females did. Pat returned in a few moments, gave the communications plant a bright smile and a cheerful word that Notes the Passing Changes took to mean that there had been no offense, but that Pat would not welcome a reintroduction of the topic. The room fell into easy silence and Notes the Passing Changes felt thankful that these humans did not feel the need to fill the air with sound. The steady ticking of Pat’s fingers on the screen, the thrum of Sandy’s cooling metabolism, and the chemical chaos of the tiny new human made a pleasant enough social interaction as it was.  
Author Betty Adams Books
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Humans are Weird - The Mountain

Humans are Weird - The Mountain  Fstk’tk pattered happily along the catwalk letting the ambient vibrations of the base pulse up through her paws while her gripping claws adjusted the basket she held in front of her. The air tasted every so faintly of the staining agent the wood-fiber class was using to apply patterns to their baskets (hers was one of their unfinished products) and the air was muzzy with the vapor and particles in the air of textile industry. Fstk’tk made a mental note to run a manual check of the atmospheric quality sensors as she reached Human Friend Charm’s living quarters. She chittered happily to herself as she tapped the door bell and felt the vibrations of the chimes that sounded in the dwelling place. This was followed by a roar of greeting from Human Friend Charm and Fstk’tk trotted through the door.
Human Friend Charm had a wonderful sense of taste in interior decoration, that was sometimes visible behind the shelves crammed with every conceivable implement for weaving fibers of every sort, balls, tubes, and tangles of fibers of every sort from brilliantly colored synthetic blends to more muted natural tones, half finished weaving projects, and books of every description. Fstk’tk mindful stepped on a tome that seemed to be about weaving seats for some precarious looking water craft because she couldn’t avoid it.
“You here for that quivit sock?” Human Friend Charm asked, rising with what would have been majestic slowness from her practical research over a natural fiber square.
“Yes!” Fstk’tk said, holding up the basket. “First Textile Engineer is going to be giving a speech on thermodynamics modification and domestic species and I want to have it as an example!”
Human Friend Charm was already, rudely, turning to survey the crowded room and Fstk’tk had to remind herself that humans did not adhere to the same rules of behavior as a Trisk.
“Laundry pile,” Human Friend Charm suddenly declared, and began lumbering towards what Fstk’tk had initially thought was a new piece of human sized furniture. However as she circled the spider-walk around the interior of the room she realized with some shock that what must be most of Human Friend Charm’s clothing supply was piled in one corner, off-gassing warm mammal scents mingled with bacterial stench. Human Friend Charm folded over the pile, doubling her long body up, and began snatching at the top layer, grabbing individual clothing items, any one of which would have made a serviceable field tent for a Trisk, and tossing them lightly behind her until she had shifted nearly half the mass of the pile.
“There!” Human Friend Charm declared, snatching a small patch of vibrant color that resolved into the hand-worked quivit sock that had been the talk of the college for weeks when Human Friend Charm had first produced the original pair. According to Human Friend Charm the left sock had long since slipped through the sub-space ether that ate such socks, but Fstk’tk was reasonably sure that was human hyperbole. “Not gonna be a problem that it’s dirty?” Human Friend Charm asked, making a one handed attempt to organize her long hairs ash she handed the item to Fstk’tk.
“No problem at all,” Fstk’tk assured her. “This will help to demonstrate use – but - ”
Fstk’tk hesitated and Human Friend Charm looked at her curiously.
“But what Fussy Lil’ Friend?” the human prompted.
“But why is it dirty,” Fstk’tk finally worked up the courage to ask. “Are the laundry facilities non-functional?”
Human Friend Charm’s face contorted first in anger, then in self-directed annoyance, then in exasperated effort as she clearly fought through instinctive defensive reactions.
“Because I’ll get to my laundry eventually,” Human Friend Charm finally said, turning abruptly back to her work.
Fstk’tk gave a click of understanding and turned to leave. Of course what the human had said made no sense, not even grammatically in response to Fstk’tk’s question. However Fstk’tk had long since learned that such a reply actually meant that the human was dealing with complex psychological motivations that even the affected human might not fully understand and did not want to speak of it. Still Fstk’tk stuck a mental thread to the pile of clothing on the floor for later tugging.
Why would a perfectly healthy adult let a chaotic mess accumulate in their living space when the option of removing it was so easily and readily available?  
Author Betty Adams Books
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