Chapter Seven

I got home to a quiet house, my guess was that, other than Fauve, the whole family was plastered. I did have the sense to wonder if my people made it back to the embassy quarters safely. But I was reasonably sure that they did, though they would have to send people to go fetch the cars. My steps were staggered and I was busy vowing never to drink again, while Byron and Boatswain helped me get down the steps, over to my room, and let me flop down into bed.

I don’t know what time it was when we got back, so I have no idea how long I slept. However, before I fell asleep I made a few mental notes that I put together later.

Human death rituals are not about the dead, but the living, and the disposition of goods after death is dual purpose. First it properly dispenses goods that enriches those the deceased cared for, but also it provides memorial touchstones.

Where most intelligent races have a fairly dismissive view of the dead, the human sense of empathy is so highly developed that it is fair to say it is ‘over developed’. They recall the dead with the same sense of affection and love as if the person were still with them. A parent who loses a child might cling to the child’s toys for years, and if they do finally give them up, it will be to another child who will appreciate them in the same way. When a comrade passes, a treasured object gains almost religious reverence, a thing bonding the living and the dead across even an impossible divide.

As I see it, part of Percival’s motivation in assisting Fauve was not just the repayment of a debt, he bonded with her in mere hours, his steady guidance was frankly ‘grandfatherly’ (more about the role of elderly in human society later), and based on the limited descriptions Byron would later give regarding Percival’s son and daughter-in-law, I think Fauve reminded him of them.

By the same token, Percival’s post death generosity with Byron seemed to be a kind of transference. As humans have the unique ability among intelligent species to ‘find’ families, a transferal of affection is far from impossible. This is especially true if the recipient of that transference did something remarkable on the giver’s behalf, or on behalf of someone important to the giver.

The complex weaving of bonds between humans is fascinating to no end, and I could not help but notice that it was strongly rooted in their psychological need to ‘connect’. Even those who lack the ‘ability’ to connect, still have a ‘need’ to do so, overcoming this difficulty in empathetic connection has been the work of generations of human scientists who have tried everything from drug therapy to animal therapy to draw the inner human out of their shell.

Assisting others with their desire to connect, either connecting with them in person or simply providing mentorship, guidance, and patience, is considered a noble service to society. In studying my host family, ‘my humans’ I must point out that the two children are given abundant attention.

William and Rebecca regularly sit down to have coffee with Fauve and simply talk with her, eye contact and light physical contact are common, a hug, holding her hand, a fist bump, a kiss to her forehead, affection is myriad in its expression and I have not listed them all here.

But all seem centered around ensuring she is confident in her familial support, safe, and learns how to behave with others. The result of all this was a girl who seemed nearly fearless when speaking to a room full of adults, many of whom wanted to just use her for their own agendas.

Michael, being so very young, received very different attention, he was held often, cuddled, most affection was physical, and there were various simple games. Smiles were common. Nonverbal communication in humans is important, this is not unique to humans, as dlamisa have a number of physical tells regarding our moods, ear motions, tail motions and positions, and the baring of teeth.

But in humans the lack of these nonverbal communications is detrimental. Smiling is instinctive, and meant to spark a reciprocal expression in the adult, withholding it in the long term will actually damage the development of the child. Michael it seemed, was in no danger of that, their games centered around smiles, snuggles, and simple rhyming songs that… with a little reworking, would have served as suitable rhythms for drinking songs.

If I’m to make a full confession, I was typing this in bed, hangovers are… unpleasant. If by unpleasant you mean that it feels as if an asteroid impact has struck your head, only you can’t die so it just throbs and throbs without end.

I spent most of the day just lying there typing this out and trying to recall more details from the most recent events. I stopped only to get the story that I could from Byron and Boatswain, independently of course. Thankfully they were kind enough to bring me a small breakfast which included a note from Fauve wishing me well. I thought it was because she was going to work at her usual job at the mall candy shop that she hadn’t come by to see me that morning… but William informed me otherwise when he came down a short while later with the traditional post hangover coffee.

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“She’s at their headquarters. That was where she went last night, Teresa took her back to fill out some legal forms.” He said while mixing cream and sugar until I nodded when it was enough. He stirred the blend with more vigor than he really needed to, so much so that when he stopped stirring, the spoon kept sliding around the inner rim of my cup for a full rotation before it finally stopped.

He set the cup down beside my bed, and I sat up, my ears were all pricked up. William wasn’t exactly a genius at deception, but even if he had been, my sense of smell knew anxiety pheromones at this point. “Isn’t that good?” I asked, I genuinely didn’t know one way or the other if it was, but if it wasn’t I wanted to understand why. “I remember things ‘before’ the drinking, and she got a lot of credits, her future is set, right? A job, a fortune, what’s to worry about?”

William rolled his eyes and sat down in the nearby chair, he drummed his fingers on the table and said, “I dunno. I guess it’s weird thinking of her actually growing up. She’s going to be fifteen in a few months, a few years from that, she’ll be a legal adult. I guess that just threw me off a little.” He gave me an almost playful little half smile and ran his hand through his hair, “Silly stuff. Don’t think about it. Thinking probably hurts still anyway, I didn’t know you could drink that much.”

It was a change of subject, I knew it, though I don’t know if he knew I knew it. But I allowed it, I touched my left hand to the side of my head and after taking another sip of coffee and setting the cup down, I dramatically flopped out on the bed. “If you could kill me now, that would be great.” I flopped one arm over my eyes and made the most melodramatic sigh I could, imitating a human drama show… and it had the desired effect.

William laughed. I enjoyed cheering up my humans, and I could feel his anxiety levels decline a little. But it wasn’t over.

“I got a datanote from your embassy.” William said, and I removed my arm from over my eyes. In my mind, that could not be a good thing.

‘Deportation.’ I thought right away, it wasn’t always at the forefront of my mind, but it was still a going concern. Thankfully [Wolfbeard] at least had his father’s stubbornness and kept making motions before the court, and thanks to the human right to face their accuser, I had to remain on Earth for any potential trial. If I left, there was always the chance he’d be freed, or that Fauve would be forced to face him again, nobody wanted that.

Percival’s thoroughness in his media blitz was such that nobody wanted to be the politician behind [Wolfbeard’s] release. Coupled with Byron’s explanation of Percival’s personality and special hatred for xenophobes, it is just further testament to one singular truth. Do not poke humans. Especially their families. Their overdeveloped capacity to empathy has a converse overdeveloped capacity for unbridled revenge.

As it happened however, William’s news wasn’t nearly that bad. “Apparently you had quite an evening last night, and your embassy was very pleased with your,” he paused, cleared his throat, and made the most ‘exaggeratedly formal’ tone he could, saying to me, “hard work in developing interspecies relations between dlamisans and humans, as such you are to be rewarded.”

“Rewarded?” I asked, and William nodded, “I was CC’d on the message, but it was you it was sent to. Apparently something involving a sport called ‘Ballyball’ but it lacks details on that. You can read it yourself, but the long and the short of it is that a dlamisan freighter has been redirected and it is on its way to Earth to buy a lot of alcohol, and as a citizen of their world you’re supposed to help them select the best options. If you do, they’re sponsoring you for a work and education visa in addition to your exchange visa.”

“They’re what?” I asked, but I was already racing through my datapad for information, I found the message and read through it. “So… I can attend a human University, study student life? And I can get an actual job?”

“Yes. As long as you help them with the alcohol shipment.” William explained, “They’ve asked that as a ‘friendly human’ I facilitate your employment and admittance… basically get you a job and get you enrolled.”

It was dlamisan through and through, hardly subtle, very direct, you do this and this will be what you get for it. Very straightforward and then it was done.

But it was too good of an opportunity to pass up. “Yes, of course! And ah… did you by chance hear from-”

“Yes. They’ll be at dinner tonight, you might want to get cleaned up and for god’s sake, take a shower, you smell like,” I knew the smile he made, he was going to use one, I braced myself, “a ‘boozehound’.”

I groaned at yet another dadjoke, and he rose to his feet.

“I’ll get right on it.” I promised him when he reached for the doorknob.

He turned the brass knob and the catch opened with a click, but before he exited he looked back at me and said, “I know, I’ve already arranged for a job interview and reached out to the admissions department for the University of Louisville. See you upstairs.” He said and left me behind.

As I tried to rise I reached for the half empty cup and took another long drink to polish off the remnants of the rich cream colored coffee and thought, ‘Maybe he’s getting better at reading me than I believed.’