The rest of the day went on with relative smoothness, we ate, we talked, I peppered Rebecca in particular with questions about child rearing customs and how she balanced her career with her obligations as a parent. Having consumed human entertainment media in vast quantities I knew it was not normal to bring children into work places, I also knew that human infants required abundant investments in time and attention to thrive and grow.

She was happy to discuss that much. “I only go to the office every few weeks. Everything else, I do remotely. Working from home allows me to tend to my child and get my work done. If you want my opinion, office work is profoundly inefficient. It sounds odd, but when you’re around a lot of other coworkers, they tend to get in the way of work, far more than any infant.”

“What?” I had to scratch my head at that, and when I did, Michael pulled on my fur until I lowered my head and let him do the scratching for me. His tiny fingers were surprisingly effective.

“People always want you to do stuff for them. Like, imagine if you were trying to walk down a busy street, all you want to do is get around the block. But every ten steps you take, somebody stops you and asks for something. It’s rude to say no, you can’t put them off, and if you do either, they either complain or put off helping you when you need it. How long do you think it would take to get around the block?” Rebecca gave me the hypothetical and for a moment my tail drooped as I thought it over.

“A long time, I guess?” I answered finally, and she pulled Michael from his seat to bounce him on her knee.

“Yes. Just this side of eternity. That’s what working in an office is like, you’re conveniently located and they can draw on you right away, so they do. So anyone trying to get work done is impeding everybody else whether they mean to or not. But here?” Rebecca pointed with her free hand toward the bedroom door. “I keep a little office space set up in there, people can text me or message me if they need something. But I don’t have to drop what I’m doing, I can finish a task, set aside a block of time to help them, and do that. And in between tasks I can throw a load into the wash, feed Michael, make a cup of coffee, whatever I need to do, I can do.”

“I see. That… makes sense.” I said and sat up now that the head scratches were unfortunately over.

“Yes indeed, and what’s more, I get more time with my family in general, there’s no more office politics to speak of, and I don’t have to smile and nod through annoying gossip or other people I just… would never choose to spend time with if I could avoid it.” Rebecca gave an emphatic, albeit needless nod to go with it.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Thinking about it now, Fauve’s rational and curious mind began to make a lot more sense. I thought initially that she took more after her father, but now that I thought about it, Rebecca seemed to contribute to that same exact mindset.

Thankfully she shared Fauve’s patience with my endless questions about her upbringing and experience, it made me ever more curious about the human education system, something I would revisit later.

But in the meantime I just took notes as the hours slipped past, Fauve came and went from her room to her kitchen and back again with little to say but quick pleasantries. Her mother’s worried gaze always interrupted her words with me, but it never lasted. Having made the decision to entrust their daughter with her own wishes, there was no further discussion. It made me wonder if perhaps the whole family might have made good dlamisans.

When I finally returned to my room in the basement my brain was full to bursting with new questions and new insights alike.

The hour was late by then, or at least, on the cusp of late. Late enough to sleep after I recorded my data and observations for the day, sorting out my thoughts and emotions from the objective factual observations.

It was not until I lay myself down on the mattress that I felt the physical reminder in the form of plastic against my foot, that Fauve had forgotten her datapad.

I reached for it, intending to set it aside, when I saw the stream of messages rolling across the screen. It was locked, so I couldn’t read anything but the preview displays, but there were many little green rectangles full of words, and they were coming in like a flood.

I read them without thinking, at least what I could.

“Call off your…”

“I’m sorry, just don’t…”

“Please… don’t ruin…”

“I was just trolling…”

“I didn’t mean…”

Most of them were clearly the start of pathetic pleas.

Others took a different tact.

“I’ll make you p…”

“You can’t get away…”

“Xeno loving traito…”

“Earth is for man alo…”

It wasn’t hard for me to guess what this was.

My government and the Earth government set their cybersecurity teams to work and began reaching out to contact everyone who messaged Fauve privately. Cybersecurity is a serious matter, and whether I liked it or not, my presence had now become a matter of security for the Earth government. Dlamisa are very good with computers, on par with humans, if our teams were working together to track those who messaged the Walker family? It wouldn’t take long to identify them all. Not unless they were using top tier evasion techniques, which most people didn’t.

Why would they have?

They thought they were cyberstalking and harassing a young girl and punishing her for rejecting one of their own in favor of a violent ‘chad’ foreigner. Maybe a visiting colonist, or maybe someone from outside their region, as some tribalism still restricted itself to local geography.

Now they were finding out differently, they were desperate, afraid, unhinged.

And while I’m somewhat cowardly, even if my humans don’t think so… fearful or not, at my bones I am still from a predatory species, and feeling them metaphorically running away in fear of their own… felt pretty good.

It made my sleep that night all the more cozy and enjoyable.