After the fruit was finished, the Alien gestured to themselves with a tentacle. Three main tentacles planted firmly, it began what was clearly a formal introduction. The bioluminescent patterns across its body coalesced into complex geometric forms that seemed to ripple through dimensions Mike's eyes couldn't quite track. Its three-part beak opened and began producing... something.

At first, Mike felt it more than heard it - a deep vibration that made his teeth ache and his bones hum. The sound gradually rose through frequencies he could actually hear, a symphony of clicks and trills that seemed to dance with the light patterns. As it continued climbing the acoustic scale, Mike's ears began to protest. By the time it reached its finale - a crystalline series of notes that made him want to cover his ears - he was thoroughly regretting asking the creature's name.

The entire performance lasted maybe thirty seconds, but it felt like being subjected to an entire alien orchestra. When it finished, the creature looked at him expectantly.

"Um... I'm Mike," he managed, still trying to blink away the afterimages from the light show. "Could you maybe... do that again? Maybe just the middle bit?"

The creature obligingly began its performance again. Mike quickly raised his hands. "No! No, that's okay! Maybe I'll just call you... something simpler?"

The alien's eye crinkled in what might have been amusement. It gestured as if to say "go ahead, try."

"Right, so..." Mike rubbed his still-ringing ears. "That was definitely a name. A very... thorough name. But maybe we could find something a bit more..." He waggled his hand vaguely, searching for a diplomatic word. "Pronounceable?"

The creature's eye crinkled further, and it repeated just a small portion of its introduction - a delicate series of crystalline tones accompanied by a ripple of light patterns.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"No, see, even that's..." Mike winced. "Look, does anyone ever call you something shorter? Like a nickname?"

In response, the alien produced what seemed to be a simplified version of its name - though it still involved subsonic vibrations and light patterns that made Mike's eyes water. Their apparently sincere attempt at 'keeping it simple' only highlighted the vast gulf between their communication methods.

"Maybe I could just call you..." Mike studied the creature, trying to find some distinguishing characteristic that might serve as a name. The way its bioluminescence danced across its form, the graceful movement of its tentacles, the peculiar way its three-part beak clicked...

The creature waited patiently, its eye twinkling with what looked suspiciously like amusement at his struggle. One tentacle made an encouraging 'go on' gesture.

"Well, maybe something about how you move-" Mike's discussion of naming was suddenly interrupted by an impending sneeze. The alien's earlier sonic display had definitely irritated his sinuses. "Ah... ah... ATCHI!"

The creature froze, their eye widening with sudden interest. They repeated the sound - "At'chi" - but made it more musical, adding a slight trill to the 'chi' that made it sound less like a sneeze and more like a name.

"No, that wasn't- I was just-" Mike started to explain, but the alien was already experimenting with the sound, seeming delighted with it. Their version - "At'chii" - had a melodic quality that somehow perfectly matched the way their bioluminescence pulsed.

They pointed to themselves and repeated it again: "At'chii."

"You... you actually want to be called that?" Mike asked incredulously. "I was literally just sneezing!"

The creature's eye crinkled with obvious pleasure, and they repeated their new designation. Their version made it sound almost elegant - nothing like the undignified sneeze that had spawned it. The 't' clicked precisely through their beak, and the 'chii' trilled in a way human vocal cords probably couldn't match.

Mike had a feeling they found it amusing that their human-pronounceable name had come from an involuntary respiratory function. Their bioluminescence certainly suggested they were enjoying the absurdity of it all.

"At'chii," he tried, knowing he wasn't quite matching their musical version. The alien seemed delighted anyway, patting his head approvingly with a tentacle.

He supposed there were worse ways to name an alien than via sneeze.