"Why were you talking to Nelly?"

Back in the hallway, Koen looked up at his translator. "Good morning, Mark. Is Mr. Grumbles awake yet? I can — "

"Answer the question."

Laura's head came up. That was the wrong tone of voice. "We talked with Nelly about translation." She did not do anything so overt as nudging Koen or telling him to explain it. She needed him oblivious. "Something about translating his discrimination."

"Vocal segregates" said Koen, obliviously. "Severo, it turns out that Graa has already toggled the option from his side. When he does the Pick equivalent of laughing, his translators say 'I'm amused.'"

"Interesting," said Mark with no hint of interest in his voice. "Interesting, because guess whose omnivator is coming in for a landing?"

Koen groaned.

They decided to tell General Graa to meet them outside, where there was no danger of running into Mr. Grumbles and it was a beautiful day.

The tangled, gently pulsing buildings gleamed in the sun, and a breeze rustled the leafy tentacles of the trees. A herd of stumpy-legged robots trudged along the canal, keeping pace with a pod of broad, gray backs in the water.

On one earth, elephants took to the sea. The moeritheriids were early proboscideans that adapted to a rotund, semi-aquatic, hippo-like niche.1 They wallowed in the wetlands of Eocene North Africa, grabbing aquatic vegetation with their flexible, trunk-like upper lips. As Africa drifted and the climate changed, they did not go extinct, but shifted to a diet of the mussels that lived around the roots of the reeds they ate. Moeritheriids with better control over their lips were better at finding and extracting mollusks. They were also better at fashioning tools of shell, stone, and driftwood to wield against predatory whales and each other.

Unlike whales, which can give birth underwater, the walrus-hippo-elephants who currently occupy our attention had to haul out of the water to reproduce. Their flippers incapable of supporting their weight, they were forced to ignominiously bounce their blubbery bodies over mud and rocks in a mode of locomotion known technically as "galumphing."2 Animals reproduced better when they fashioned tools to help them move on land. Sled runners gave way to boardwalks and wheels.

The land was a good place for manufactured tools. Ceramics could be fired and metals forged and left out without undue rust. The land was also a sacred place, a place of love and birth and burial. Even better, industrial waste was easier to store there.

The temples of the Ceremonial Technocracy rose higher, spread wider, and grew ever deeper in complexity. With the discovery of atomic physics and contact with the Convention, the Holy Dry Frontier expanded to infinity. Thus it was that pilgrims came to the Zogreion to contemplate the afterlife, dedicate themselves and their unborn children to galumphing across the eternal mysteries of existence, and eat at highly-rated restaurants.3

"Human Koen," said Graa from atop his rolling perch. "I have decided on my angle of attack. You are the key to finding Mr. Grumbles, so I will ride you." He limbered up his wings and crouched his legs, ready to take off. "I am poised. I will ride you all day and stay alert for the glitter of opportunity. I will ride you to victory!"

Koen felt strangely cheered by this, then guilty for being cheered. He should be here at the Embassy, helping his friends look after Mr. Grumbles. Just, he didn't want to. Koen wanted to solve problems in the kitchen and serve people who appreciated his work.

But enough insight. How mad was Laura at him? How mad was Graa? If Koen was innocent, how should he be reacting?

Laura stepped between General Graa and the frozen Koen. "General Graa, with respect, Koen is an employee of the United Nations Embassy. We need him here."

Graa's beard flared. "I am forceful. Of course I will not interfere with his duties. I will simply ride him. The boredom will sharpen my beak."

"Well," said Mark. "But what about your duties, Your Excellency?"

Graa focused his eyes on the third human. "What happened to your face?"

Mark brought his hand up to stroke his swollen lower lip. His eyes went distant before he blinked and shook himself. "Just…bit my lip. It's fine." He cleared his throat. Surely you can't afford to sit on Koen's shoulder in our kitchen all day."

Koen and Laura both swallowed, thinking guiltily that Mr. Grumbles had attacked their friend while they'd been at a party.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

Graa's experienced eye, meanwhile, identified the injury as a love bite. But if Human Mark didn't want to take advantage of the chance to brag, that was his business. "Yes!" the Pick said. "I make meaningful sacrifices. I abandoned the plan of today, which was to join the first contact delegation for the Paturitians. I am too upset to play my proper part." He jabbed his open beak at Laura's face. "I am generous. Human Laura, I patronizingly open my craw to you. You will occupy my place in the delegation today."

Laura took a step backward. "I will…what?"

"You will go to the moon and make first contact with the Paturitians, Human Laura."

"The moon?"

"Only the moon of this version of earth. The Pick version is much better." He bristled his beard again. "You will represent the United Nations and the Pick That Administers Discipline. Secretary will instruct on the proper forms. Now, clear me a flight path to Human Koen's shoulder."

The humans stared at him.

Laura thought, The moon. The moon?

Koen's heart rate sped as he realized that this could make Laura's career. I've got to keep Graa from finding out about Mr. Grumbles. But how long would he have to be separated from her?

Mark had spent most of the conversation so far looking up at the web-wrapped buildings around them, and formulating his plans. Now, he decided they were ready.

"You are shocked," Graa observed. "That is understandable, but you will inevitably accept."

"Ambassador Li!" Laura said. "He will come too. I mean, I will accompany him to make first contact."

"The one who keeps his eyes half closed? He seems harmless. But no others. The party must be small."

"Wait," said Koen.

They all looked at him and his shoulders pulled together. He straightened them and cleared his throat. "You can't ride me around the Embassy."

"Why not?"

Koen was saved from having to invent an excuse by the Ceremonials. A robot clambered down into the canal and seized one of the gray-skinned Ceremonial pilgrims. With a rumbling bellow, a torrent of water, and the straining of servo-motors, the aquatic creature hauled itself up onto land. More bellows and splashes followed.

The lead Ceremonial rode her robot steed across the street in front of the humans and Pick. The flexible upper body lifted and twisted, presenting them with splayed front flippers and an array of immense, dripping mustaches.

"Bbbbblp!" said the Ceremonial, which the translators rendered as, "Blessed be the ground you tread this day. Is that the restaurant of Paps, where we may suck upon the flavors of clams?"

"Absolutely," said Mark. "And the hostess there isn't creepy at all."

"I am reassured," rumbled the Ceremonial. "Follow me, pilgrims!"

Koen watched the giant gray creatures amble across the street, wishing he could feed them. A restaurant in the Zogreion. Now, there would be a thing.

"Ahoy!" cawed Graa. "Human Koen, tell me why I cannot ride you around the Embassy. I am incensed."

Koen had failed to take advantage of the distraction. He opened his mouth, but no clever words came out to save him. Alright, if not clever words, then any words at all. Any excuses. "I'm…not feeling well."

General Graa's perch rocked back as the bird launch himself into the air. He turned a tight, annoyed circle around Laura and grabbed Koen's left shoulder.

"Stop cringing. Bear my weight. I am annoyed," he said. "I am concerned. You do look listless. Are you off your feed?"

"No, I —" Graa smacked him with his beak.

"Crrk?" Graa pressed the flat of his beak against Koen's reddening brow. "Crrk." He tucked it under Koen's chin. "No, your temperature is normal. It's not an infection. Intestinal worms? Who inspects your toilets? Are they competent?"

Koen stopped himself just in time from grabbing the bird and flinging it away from him. "No! It's nothing. I just…" He stopped himself from mentioning sleep. He didn't want Graa to drag him off to the kennel again.

"He just needs some fresh air." Mark put the next phase of his plan into motion. "Exercise."

"Oh?" Graa bobbed his head. "I am confused."

What Mark wanted was to go back into the Embassy and spend more time with Severo. However, none of his habits of behavior were pushing in this direction. Mark's habits focused on what he didn't want, which in this case was to take any more care of Mr. Grumbles. If Koen and Laura were going to spend the day outside the Embassy, then by god so would he.

"I'm thinking," said Mark, "of a trust exercise."

1Liu AG, et al. Stable isotope evidence for an amphibious phase in early proboscidean evolution. Proc Natl Acad Sci U S A. 2008 Apr 15;105(15):5786-91. doi: 10.1073/pnas.0800884105..

2Kendall-Bar et al. Eavesdropping on the brain at sea: development of a surface-mounted system to detect weak electrophysiological signals from wild animals. Anim Biotelemetry 10, 16 (2022). https://doi.org/10.1186/s40317-022-00287-x

3Mix Sty had been unimpressed with Mark during their lunch, but she'd left a very positive review of her meal.