Report to the Empircists Part 4/5

 

The session was gratifying, and of the type needed. We left the place of refreshment with Adjunct taking the rear, advising Julie to value all experience during her learning phase, and to not spend too much time finding absurd images in currency. The young woman knew we wouldn’t meet again, and instinctively, had an idea why. She sat curled in the repose pod, wishing us well with a hand gesture, amused for reasons only felt. Much of our mission was complete, but we still had to find the woman who sang the song.

We located the building which housed the communal files, most of which is printed on thin, organic matter. We discovered that since the business cycle had ended, and dominants were free to pursue such personal interests, the files were closed. Again, I experienced distaste for groups which operate on the surface of the planet.

Adjunct informed us that musical presentations featuring the woman had been broadcast in the area recently, but that they originated from a network station far away. Places where music was sold wasn’t a likely source of specific information about the performers. Then he detected a few locations nearby where recordings of the music in question were being played. He suggested that we walk toward one source, which was close by.

This was in a domicile area which surrounded the business district. We walked along a thin, durable structure laid upon the flora for that purpose. A small mammal darted onto the path in front of us, then spun back around and retreated to one of the immense samples of vegetation which were everywhere. Adjunct captured an image for our files. Then Contact suddenly exhibited mild trauma to the entryway of her digestive system. Once we understood exactly what was happening, Adjunct and I allowed ourselves to express amusement. She informed us that an insect had flown into her mouth, coming to rest on the flap between her trachea and esophagus. It had finally slid into the latter, and she felt that since there were no humans about, she could show content. According to custom, we gave thanks to the current. It was true that although we were only in virtual form, we were, as warned, attracted to the sub-soil insects, which we detected all about. We watched a bird land on the surface to listen for these and pluck them out. As she neared one, we encouraged her as Adjunct captured an image. Then humans passing in a vehicle blared a mechanical warning for no reason we could immediately determine. The bird answered the warning with one of her own, and took safety up in the vegetation. Adjunct noted pleasure in being scolded by such an intriguing being.

The dominant period of repose was approaching, and our time was limited. We considered our options. Adjunct checked the nearest location where the music was being played, and was compelled to pass information to Contact. She relayed a piece of aural data to me. It was a curious sound a human made while listening to the music.

"Monosyllabic," Contact noted, "but expressive. A male in the recovering stage of a viral respiratory ailment. With that information, and with the sound he made, one can conclude that he is miserable, but anticipating relative health. He’s in horizontal repose, using a covering in a less-than-efficient manner. Fully conscious, but lethargic. There are no cats, dogs or horses in the apartment with him."

He was our best source for the information we sought. If our mission was to be completed in the short time remaining, we would have to be more direct in our inquiry. We would have to make an overt appearance as visitors. Adjunct was curious whether humans believed that the music had curative properties. Contact suggested that we could offer to separate the human from his misery in exchange for information. We determined that we weren’t in the direct view of any humans, then flicked directly into his domicile.

As we make an appearance as visitors to mid-grade dominants, we first present an image of our galaxy as seen from the location that we are visiting. Then we place ourselves in front of it, in the inhabitant’s own attitude of greeting. It’s really quite impressive. So we appeared, motioning lightly with a hand and smiling.

We first encountered the human as he was contemplating the image of our galaxy. As we appeared fully, he used an exclamation, mild in quality, but loud in volume. Then he initiated several events at once. His covering, which wasn’t being efficiently used, seemed to separate itself from his body, falling to a heap nearby. He swung his lower limbs to the floor, propelling a small wooden table aside. Containers of medicine fell. Obviously I had made a mistake bringing the crew there.

His expression betrayed preparation for a life-or-death struggle. His initial comments were incomplete in structure, filled with wonder and potential violence. I will not reproduce them here exactly, due to issues of privacy and possible untoward amusement on the part of future readers. Mostly, he used interrogatives and references to the worst place. As his queries became more sound in structure, they were such as:

"What are you doing here?"

"I don’t understand," Adjunct tossed. "We’re standing within his domicile."

"It’s a more general question," Contact replied, in the same manner.

"Keep smiling and waving," I instructed them. And to him-

"We are visitors from very far away. We mean no harm, and we apologize for the effect our entrance has had upon you."

"What do you want?"

"We have questions that you may be able to answer."

"How did you get in here?"

"We flicked in directly from just outside."

"Where are you from?

We had made a mistake with our mode of entrance, and in choosing a subject in such a state of misery. He spoke in a rasping manner that we hadn’t heard during our research. We usually see subjects in such a state during study, after emotionally preparing ourselves. His head-covering seemed to have lost its style. He had chosen to keep his facial covering trimmed to the skin, but obviously had neglected that daily task during his illness. A mark on his face, which Contact initially thought was an injury, actually had come from his feverish head resting on a lump of covering. Contact smiled, waved, and motioned to the now fading image of our galaxy.

"How far away is that?" he asked.

Despite the more positive interaction, I though our encounter would end in retreat. Contact relayed that our subject’s health was worse due to our appearance. I answered the human’s question in a rapid manner.

"It is so far away that to tell you in your own language using your own measurements would take so long that by the time I finished you would be asleep or busy with some other activity due to lack of interest."

He uttered a sharp syllable which probably was a variety of laughter. Contact informed me that production of fear-aggression hormone in his body had halted, but that there was still much inside him. The human declared that the distance we had traveled must have been far, put his head in his hands and committed the entire situation to the worst place with a single word. Contact then fielded another alert and informed me that one of his limb muscles was going into imbalance. The human raised his head and gazed at us, with an expression of wonder that we were still present. Then he asked what questions we had. I motioned toward the machine presenting the music, but before I could speak, he shouted a profanity, came abruptly vertical, and began howling and creeping about in circles. In our initial studies of these inhabitants, I had never been exposed to such a desperate racket.

"I can stop it," Contact told him. "Do you wish that?"

"Yes! Please! Anything!" he whimpered. She intervened medically. He stopped suddenly, smiled, and tested his leg. The entire experience had had an effect on his level of consciousness, however, and he had less control over his body.

"Please assume repose," Adjunct told him, then also wished it all to the worst place. "Dammit, sit down!"

"Good idea." The human sat on his bed, and we approached a few steps further.

"You had a fluid deficiency and mineral imbalance," Contact told him. "You were lethargic, then suddenly active, with a great increase in hormone production…"

The human tried to say something, but Contact wouldn’t listen.

"…and that created a spasm in your leg muscle." She then allowed the human to speak. He told us what happened, using an article and a noun.

"A cramp. Thanks. But…"

"But we helped cause it," Contact told him.

"Thanks anyway, but, I didn’t see you stop it."

"That’s correct," she said, "you didn’t. You should consume a lot of fluid in many varieties when you have a viral infection of your respiratory system. Not just coffee. Please remain still. The procedure hasn’t ended."

"What procedure?"

"A small probe. It regulated activity in your leg, then delivered fluid and minerals to your stomach."

"A probe? You aliens have nice probes."

"Now it’s dealing with other problems your body has. Since your viral count is now low, the congestion… the mucus in your system has been removed, reduced to minerals, and placed…" She pointed out the window "…in that area of cultivation out there. Inflammation has been reduced, since it’s no longer necessary. Remain still, but please open your right hand, with the palm upward."

He opened his hand and found a small pellet there.

"That implant has been found and removed. What was its purpose?"

He laughed and mentioned someone’s name.

"Who is that person?"

He explained that it was a person who attacked him with a compressed air weapon long before.

"Then the event was brought to the attention of those who were wiser," Contact asked, "and this person was told to refrain from such violent activity?"

"No. Then I got him good a few times. He’s a friend of mine."

Contact chose me to tell the human our feelings on that matter.

"We find that strange," I said. "We hope that you have stopped doing such things, and that you understand the risk in such games."

He acknowledged, in strong terms, that he understood the risk. He explained that they were younger then, and said that he would surprise his friend by presenting him with the pellet.

"The procedure is complete," Contact told him. "But you will feel like you have this thing called ‘a cold’ for awhile. And I’m sorry that I was so terse with you, but in my five excursions, I’ve never treated an inhabitant before."

The human told us that he felt like a fowl hatched during the regenerative season in a temperate climate. I asked him if that was a good feeling. He laughed, then his expression was one of sudden enlightenment. He made a loud click with a hand, jabbed a finger toward Contact, and told us that she looked like a woman in motion pictures. One story she was in was, perhaps, set on a fixed-wing aircraft, but he wasn’t sure. An actor called ‘Whatzername’. Contact tossed a declaration of his improved health to us as Adjunct accessed the name files again. Then Adjunct understood the futility of his search.

"I wish you would let me know what you’re telling each other," the human told us.

I said that we were confused by his last statement and made the promise that our communication would be open from then on.

After apologizing beforehand, the human tended to his face and the congestion therein. Then he motioned to a spot of semi-repose, giving us permission to use it. I explained that since we had taken virtual form we were essentially in repose. He insisted, saying that it would make him more comfortable. We complied with the request. He leaned forward and slid the table he had moved during the commotion back into place and put the medicine bottles back on it.

"Well then. What exactly are you?"

"We’re part of a large, widespread, multispecies group committed to gathering varied knowledge," I told him. "Specifically, we’re piscine."

He lowered his eyes.

"I eat fish."

"So do we."

He uttered a monosyllable; one of wonder and thought.

"Hey," he said. "My voice is different."

"Voice. Noun. His vocalization is different, but why?" said Adjunct, complying with my promise of open communication.

"Perhaps he means to change the subject," I said.

"He’s speaking differently since we reduced the inflammation and congestion through the procedure," Contact said. The human pointed to her.

"Bingo." Then the human went vertical, and for the lack of a better description, performed. Some of the humor he used was at our expense, but the experience was gratifying. He went to the portal of a storage room, and turned to us.

"This is what we humans do." He opened the entry/egress flap, reached inside and knocked. Then he closed it and, arching his back in a stylized representation of himself, opened it again and greeted a hypothetical visitor.

"Oh, hello!" he said. "So you’re aliens who’ve come to remove a bb from my ass and ask me a question. Come in!"

"A custom," Adjunct said.

"It would’ve been so much easier," Contact added.

"We apologize for not doing that," I said.

He accepted the apology and introduced himself as ‘Marty’. I explained that my name is the sound of waves crashing on rocks, but that my adopted name in his language is ‘Rex’. I introduced ‘Blythe’, whose piscine name is the clink of high-density quartz, and as for our adjunct…

"…this is Eddy."

Marty was delighted with our names, both given and coined. He asked what questions we had.

I motioned to the machine which all the while had been playing the music at low volume.

"We were attracted by that music."

"Is that all?"

"That particular style, and the woman singing it."

He rolled his eyes and announced that he liked the music despite the fact that it was rendered chicken fat.

"But it’s a song, not food," Contact offered.

"Another metaphor?" I asked.

"Listening to it is like eating schmaltz," Adjunct concluded.