The creature's bioluminescence flickered in what might have been confusion. Their tentacles moved through the holographic display, creating what looked like a basic diagram of human biology based on their observations. They pointed at Mike's stomach, then made a circular motion - asking about water processing.
Mike tried to explain through gestures how humans digested and used water. At'chii's eye narrowed as they added to their notes. Their tentacles moved in increasingly puzzled patterns as they tried to understand the logic of a biological system that simply... discarded processed water instead of recycling it internally.
The concept seemed to deeply trouble them from an engineering perspective. Their holographic display showed various theoretical systems for internal water recycling, each one more efficient than human biology. One tentacle gestured at the diagrams, then at Mike, their bioluminescence pulsing with what seemed to be genuine concern for the inefficiency of human design.
When Mike tried to explain sweating, At'chii's eye closed briefly in what could only be described as pained disbelief. Their notations became more intense: Species intentionally release water through the surface as a cooling mechanism instead of utilizing an internal recycling system?!
One tentacle reached for their fruit bowl while another added a new section to their notes titled "Questions About Human Water Processing Design Choices." Their bioluminescence pulsed in patterns that seemed to ask the universe why evolution had chosen such an inefficient system.
Each time Mike needed more water, At'chii's tentacles moved in increasingly resigned patterns as they provided it, their eye holding a look that clearly said: "There must be a better way to do this."
At'chii's holographic display had become increasingly complex as they studied Mike's water consumption patterns. Their tentacles moved through the data with growing determination, adding calculations and theoretical models. It was clear they weren't just documenting the issue anymore - they were trying to solve it.
Every so often, they'd turn to Mike with what seemed like another clarifying question. Was he sure humans couldn't recirculate their internal water supply? Had his species considered installing some kind of condensation system in their respiratory tract? Their bioluminescence pulsed with increasing frustration at each negative response.
The breakthrough - or what At'chii clearly thought was a breakthrough - came after several hours of intense study. Their eye lit up with sudden inspiration, and they excitedly pulled up a new diagram. The design looked suspiciously like some kind of internal filtration system that could theoretically be installed in a human body.
Mike's vigorous head-shaking and emphatic "no" gestures did nothing to dampen their enthusiasm. Their tentacles moved rapidly through the display, adding modifications and improvements to their design. One tentacle patted his head reassuringly as if to say "Don't worry, we can fix this design flaw."
It took nearly an hour of increasingly desperate gestures for Mike to convince them that humans couldn't simply be upgraded with better water-processing hardware. At'chii's eye had that particular crinkle that suggested they thought he was just being stubborn about accepting improvements.
Their next series of diagrams seemed to be exploring the possibility of some kind of external water recycling suit. When Mike vetoed that too, their tentacles drooped in resignation. Their bioluminescence dimmed to a pattern that clearly conveyed: "Fine, continue being inefficient."
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Still, they kept the design files, occasionally glancing between them and Mike with what looked suspiciously like hope for future upgrades.
Mike had lost track of how long At'chii had been adding to their water efficiency diagrams. The holographic display now looked like a cross between an engineering textbook and a fever dream, filled with increasingly elaborate solutions to what they clearly saw as a critical design flaw in human biology.
He slumped in his seat (which helpfully adjusted to his new position), staring at the ceiling and occasionally accepting water from a tentacle that seemed to operate on autopilot while At'chii continued their work. The constant clicking of their beak, as they muttered to themselves in their lower register, had become almost hypnotic.
Finally, Mike made an exaggerated yawning gesture. At'chii's eye swiveled toward him, narrowing slightly as if just remembering he was there. Their bioluminescence flickered in what might have been an embarrassment as they realized they'd spent the last few hours essentially designing theoretical human upgrades without actually interacting with their human.
The diagrams disappeared with a wave of a tentacle. At'chii's eye crinkled apologetically, though they couldn't quite hide the way another tentacle sneakily saved their designs for later consideration.
They manipulated the holographic display again, this time creating something that looked more entertaining - a dynamic model of their solar system, stars dancing in impossible patterns. Their bioluminescence shifted to a more engaging pattern, clearly trying to make up for their engineering obsession.
Mike sat up straighter, genuinely interested now. At least this was better than watching At'chii design increasingly bizarre water recycling organs they clearly hoped to install in him someday.
However, he couldn't help but notice how one tentacle was still taking notes whenever he reached for his water.
At'chii suddenly straightened all their tentacles, as if coming to a decision. Their eye fixed on Mike with scientific determination as they pulled what looked like a small geometric device from somewhere. Before Mike could react, it emitted a soft pulse of light that washed over him.
The holographic display is instantly filled with detailed biological data. His entire body composition appeared in precise percentages, rotating slowly in the air between them. At'chii stared at the readings. Their bioluminescence flickered in what appeared to be confusion.
They shook the device slightly. Scanned again. Looked at the results. Their eye narrowed as they tapped the device against their beak as if trying to fix a malfunction.
Third scan. Same results. At'chii's tentacles moved in increasingly agitated patterns as they ran some kind of diagnostic on their equipment. Their eye kept darting between Mike and the readings that clearly couldn't be correct.
60% water? The creature's bioluminescence pulsed in clear disagreement with this obviously faulty data. They adjusted something on the device, muttering clicks to themselves, and scanned for a fourth time.
When the same results appeared again, At'chii went completely still. Their eye focused on Mike with new intensity, as if seeing him for the first time. Their tentacles moved through the data with growing disbelief - not just error checking anymore, but trying to understand how this was possible.
The implications seemed to hit them all at once. Their beak clicked rapidly as they realized their water-efficiency concerns hadn't been nearly concerned enough.
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