Chapter Sixteen

To get to the stadium we didn’t walk, instead Lisa took me over to a small stand where a number of small scooters sat in a rack. These lacked hovertech, which wasn’t overly surprising, nobody miniaturized it enough to go on anything smaller than the military grade transport or combat bikes like the first human I met drove. These small scooters were three wheeled, with one at the front and two at the back, the wheels went a little higher up than a handspan, and were made of thick, treaded rubber. They had handles for holding onto and a single very small red cushioned seat. In the center of the handles sat a small computer screen, and Lisa held her university ID over the front for several seconds before the screen started to glow.

“What’s this?” I asked, I could guess, but as Boatswain was with us, it seemed better to ask than to force him to speak out on his own. In my own observation, he was adapting fairly well to life on Earth, but he was still a dlamisan soldier, and as such he wasn’t used to asking questions before being asked if he had any. So to keep him up with the rest of us, I asked for him.

“Complimentary.” She said, “The school provides these for student use to get around campus faster, it keeps automobile usage to a minimum and we can keep more trees and plants around with only paths to worry about. If you ever drive here, you won’t need to use your car again until you’re ready to leave. Go on, hover your card over another one of these.” She said and slid the scooter away when she heard the click of a latch releasing.

I did as she said and when I heard the click of the security latch again, I rolled mine out as well. “Now do it again, every student gets three guest passes before they have to pay.” She explained, and I did it again for another scooter, which Boatswain grabbed with a reluctant look between myself and the little red and white vehicle.

“So now you just pick your location on the screen, it’ll take you anywhere on campus, whether you want to go to Gottschalk Hall for history class, or in our case,” she scrolled her finger on the screen and then tapped the spot for Cardinal Stadium, “to the stadium. Just stick it in the charger when you get there to keep it ready to go.” I imitated her gesture on the screen and soon found the stadium. No sooner had I tapped the green and white lettering than a picture replaced the words asking for confirmation, I tapped ‘yes’ again and then a path came up which traced out my route, not over roads, but over paths.

“You don’t need to drive these, they’re autopilot, so just sit, hold on, and enjoy the ride.” Lisa said and nestled herself comfortably on the cushion, “Just grip the handle to start, relax your grip to slow down, the lighter your hold, the less power it gets, and release to stop. Questions?” She asked as Boatswain and I mimicked her and got on.

The thing ‘sank’ into its springs somewhat when Boatswain took position, and he hunched over a little to hold the handlebars, his ears went down as he stared suspiciously at the computer screen. “Are you sure this is safe?” He asked.

“Pretty sure.” Lisa said, and had I not spent as much time around Fauve as I had, I’m sure I would have missed her sarcasm, she then clenched her hands down on the handlebars and with an electric hum, her scooter took off.

I could feel Boatswain’s eyes on me, it was almost accusing, as if I should have seen this coming, all I could do was mumble, “Sorry.” What else was there, from a dlamisan perspective this had to seem insane, the little conveyance had no safety harness, and we didn’t even have helmets or protective gear. I was fairly sure that was something we probably should have had, but we didn’t.

Stolen story; please report.

Before Lisa could get too far ahead, I clenched the rubber handlebar grips and took off after her, seconds later I could hear Boatswain at my back. I knew I’d have to apologize to him again later, springing unsafe activities on dlamisa is very bad form, but even I hadn’t seen this coming. I really had to wonder, was my time among humans making me far more comfortable with ‘casual risk’?

My reverie was interrupted when I heard a gleeful, ‘rooooooooo’ at my back.

‘Alright, so maybe no apology will be necessary after all.’ I thought and looked over my shoulder. Boatswain’s maw was wide open and he was biting at the air as his scooter zipped along, chasing me down, he was hunched forward to make himself more aerodynamic. Thanks to his weight I still didn’t think the black furry behemoth was going to actually catch up, but he was making an impressive effort.

I admit, I enjoyed the ride thoroughly myself, the path we took was smooth, and painted over in a bright red shade, while the other half was a bright chalk white, and though I saw there were a number of pedestrians, they only walked on the white path, leaving the red for scooter users.

Thanks to the fact that I weighed around what Lisa did, when I leaned forward in the same manner as Boatswain I started to catch up. The path was wide enough for two at once on a single color, and we weren’t going ‘too’ fast. Perhaps a little quicker than a fairly quick run, so this made it easy to converse.

I wondered if there was a cultural significance to riding on red and walking on the white, and asked about it. When it comes to humans, symbolism and tradition can be found all over the place, so much so that even they don’t realize it sometimes.

I had little hope that she knew, but given that she mentioned the history department as her goto example, perhaps I shouldn’t have been surprised at her answer.

“Yes and no.” She told me, “It goes back to when these were first rolled out,” she tapped the scooter with her left hand and then resumed her grip, “the paths weren’t painted then, the school just asked people to be Earth conscious and not drive as much, fuel was really expensive back then, but there were people who were all like, ‘Nope, I can’t walk that far and I’m not using one of those ridiculous things.’ They kept up the driving and kept pushing the University to get them fuel discounts so they could do it. The story goes that a group of men, as a prank, started using parking garages as hookups with other men. After a few weeks, anyone seen walking out of parking garages was assumed to have been there for that. So to avoid ‘the label’ they started taking scooters or walking, and the University started driving on ‘the wrong side of the path’ slapped down a quick paint job, called it school pride, and now here we are.”

I thought that one over. “Is that actually true?” I had to ask because it just seemed so absurd.

Lisa didn’t answer right away, but she also didn’t laugh at my question, finally she said, “I can’t say for sure. A few hundred years ago there was a part of the population that was super concerned about how into women they looked, and there were times when men who liked men would just ‘mess with them’ making them think some antisocial behavior was a signal that he was into other men. It became kind of a game, and it just kind of died out as attitudes changed. Of course,” she chuckled a little, “it was centuries ago, I’m sure a few stories got made up, but we do know of at least a few instances where bigotry was weaponized to normalize prosocial behavior.”

“You are a very sneaky species.” I said, and it was almost admirable in the way I said it.

Lisa only gave me a sly little smile while our scooters zipped along and rounded a long slow bend, “You know it.” She said as the stadium started to loom into view, and Boatswain’s ‘rooooooo’ picked up again as the slight downslope let him go just a little bit faster.