English, “ Maybe we always have to work on it?”
And, I thought, if you don’t revise your mental templates, the Universe will confuse you. I wondered if the Sharwani wanted to make the universe over by their templates and subordinate anyone who didn’t fit.
Chi’ursemisa got up and began feeling her way through the kitchen equipment, looking over at us and then at Hrif, who growled slightly. Thridai said to us, “She’s teasing you. Look at her fingertips.”
They were wrinkled, not puffed.
“Can we put them in their room now?” Marianne asked.
Thridai’s eyelids puffed slightly, but he spoke to his conspecifics. Hrif rose and padded over toward them, his thick tail held at an angle to his back. I smelled a musky smell, not really unpleasant, just greasing the air.
Daiur said to his mother in Karst One, “Back to the room, please.” Then he said, “I’ll play with Karl and the others tomorrow.”
Hurdai said something to Thridai and then spread his hands as if imitating a shrug. Who else shrugs like humans? I tried to remember. Chi’ursemisa’s eyelid veins knotted, but she turned and went toward the hall. Hurdai spoke to Thridai, then picked up Daiur and followed her. Hrif, his tail still bent to the side, padded behind them, then Marianne and I went behind him until they went through the clear door. We shut it and locked it.
In the kitchen, Thridai was cleaning up, his shoulders twitching. He turned to us and one eyelid vessel had ruptured. Marianne said, “We try not to be cruel.”
Thridai said, “Are you afraid of me, too?”
I said, “No.” Marianne looked at Hrif, then raised her hand, fingers cupped, and brought it down fast.
“I know the Federation is right. I came to its cause. But seeing my own caged is shocking,” Thridai said. He began wiping the dishes with paper towels, rotary wrist movements, the fingers gripping the paper.
“Soon, we must be…never the same, but…”
“In communication? Not fighting?” Marianne suggested.
“The Universe will swallow us if we try to swallow it,” Thridai said. I figured the plate was dry by now and took it from him, but gently.
I realized I was thinking in English—a sign in me of being anxious. Slip it back into Karst One, that’s a better map for these sorts of situations, I told myself.
Thridai said, “I have to go.”
Marianne asked, “Should we go with you?”
“No, I can find my way. Can I use the strangers facilities? I saw the space in your front room.”
We walked with him to the front, and he disappeared for ten minutes into the multi-form toilet and cleaner by the elevator. When he came out, I saw that he’d put masking cream under his eyes. He asked, “May I come back?”
I looked at Marianne to let her answer. She said, “Yes, our code is R-E-R-E one-zero-two A and I ,” giving him the Karst One equivalents to the first letters of out Academy and Institute names, our home floor designation. “Leave us a message if we’re not on terminal.”
He pulled out a small keypad and jotted it down.
I said, “Are you sure you’ll be all right going back?”
“Yes, I like to be out under such a bright sky. Like an hour after sun disappearance all night long.”
“But you’re not crepuscular, are you?” I asked, wondering if we had the Sharwani under too-harsh lights.
“Leave them with that illumination,” he said, almost in a monotone. He patted his tunic top and pants as if checking to see if he’d left anything, then pulled out his stone cigarette box and lit the last half of the thing he’d been smoking earlier. He made the plucked rubber band sound again, but it was higher pitched than before. “But I personally hate having so many details thrust at me.” He pressed the button for the elevator.
Marianne said, “And we wouldn’t be social companions, would we?”
He looked straight at her and said, “No.” The elevator door slid down; he stepped inside and pushed the ground-floor
And, I thought, if you don’t revise your mental templates, the Universe will confuse you. I wondered if the Sharwani wanted to make the universe over by their templates and subordinate anyone who didn’t fit.
Chi’ursemisa got up and began feeling her way through the kitchen equipment, looking over at us and then at Hrif, who growled slightly. Thridai said to us, “She’s teasing you. Look at her fingertips.”
They were wrinkled, not puffed.
“Can we put them in their room now?” Marianne asked.
Thridai’s eyelids puffed slightly, but he spoke to his conspecifics. Hrif rose and padded over toward them, his thick tail held at an angle to his back. I smelled a musky smell, not really unpleasant, just greasing the air.
Daiur said to his mother in Karst One, “Back to the room, please.” Then he said, “I’ll play with Karl and the others tomorrow.”
Hurdai said something to Thridai and then spread his hands as if imitating a shrug. Who else shrugs like humans? I tried to remember. Chi’ursemisa’s eyelid veins knotted, but she turned and went toward the hall. Hurdai spoke to Thridai, then picked up Daiur and followed her. Hrif, his tail still bent to the side, padded behind them, then Marianne and I went behind him until they went through the clear door. We shut it and locked it.
In the kitchen, Thridai was cleaning up, his shoulders twitching. He turned to us and one eyelid vessel had ruptured. Marianne said, “We try not to be cruel.”
Thridai said, “Are you afraid of me, too?”
I said, “No.” Marianne looked at Hrif, then raised her hand, fingers cupped, and brought it down fast.
“I know the Federation is right. I came to its cause. But seeing my own caged is shocking,” Thridai said. He began wiping the dishes with paper towels, rotary wrist movements, the fingers gripping the paper.
“Soon, we must be…never the same, but…”
“In communication? Not fighting?” Marianne suggested.
“The Universe will swallow us if we try to swallow it,” Thridai said. I figured the plate was dry by now and took it from him, but gently.
I realized I was thinking in English—a sign in me of being anxious. Slip it back into Karst One, that’s a better map for these sorts of situations, I told myself.
Thridai said, “I have to go.”
Marianne asked, “Should we go with you?”
“No, I can find my way. Can I use the strangers facilities? I saw the space in your front room.”
We walked with him to the front, and he disappeared for ten minutes into the multi-form toilet and cleaner by the elevator. When he came out, I saw that he’d put masking cream under his eyes. He asked, “May I come back?”
I looked at Marianne to let her answer. She said, “Yes, our code is R-E-R-E one-zero-two A and I ,” giving him the Karst One equivalents to the first letters of out Academy and Institute names, our home floor designation. “Leave us a message if we’re not on terminal.”
He pulled out a small keypad and jotted it down.
I said, “Are you sure you’ll be all right going back?”
“Yes, I like to be out under such a bright sky. Like an hour after sun disappearance all night long.”
“But you’re not crepuscular, are you?” I asked, wondering if we had the Sharwani under too-harsh lights.
“Leave them with that illumination,” he said, almost in a monotone. He patted his tunic top and pants as if checking to see if he’d left anything, then pulled out his stone cigarette box and lit the last half of the thing he’d been smoking earlier. He made the plucked rubber band sound again, but it was higher pitched than before. “But I personally hate having so many details thrust at me.” He pressed the button for the elevator.
Marianne said, “And we wouldn’t be social companions, would we?”
He looked straight at her and said, “No.” The elevator door slid down; he stepped inside and pushed the ground-floor
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