"I have been wanting to talk about how humans are sex-perverts," said Graa conversationally.

Koen paused in the action of lifting a branch out of the way. The night-blooming slime-mold at its tip sluggishly squirmed. "Uh. What?"

"You have this thing. You mentioned it before. Empathy. I have commanded my staff to research it. I am proud!"

Koen prodded the ground in front of him with the toe of his shoe. When it didn't shift, fall, or try to get away, he put his weight down. It was almost completely black now.

"Some human sources say it is 'feeling into,' which is gibberish," Graa was saying. "Others say it is goodness, as opposed to evil, which is useless. Still others say that empathy is imagining yourself as someone else and understanding their point of view with pity and tenderness. I see no difference between that and compassion."

"Yes," said Koen. "That's empathy. Or, I guess, compassion." Koen wasn't sure he knew the difference, or if there was one. He cursed himself for not bringing a flashlight. On Earth, he would have his cell phone with him at all times, but here he depended on his translator, and that thing didn't help.1

"But then other sources say that empathy is feeling what another person is feeling. At first I thought that was a metaphor, like 'flying someone's path' or 'riding someone's steed,' but the authors seem to be saying that when one human is hurt, others literally feel pain. Is that true?"

Was it true? Did Koen really feel Laura's sorrow when she cried, or did her crying make him sad? Did he make himself cry because he was expected to, because he wanted Laura to trust him? What was the difference between imagining an emotion and actually feeling it? Was there a difference?

Koen experienced a moment of existential panic, from which he defended himself. "Yes!" Then he had to justify his outburst. "Yes, we do really feel each other's emotions. There are these things. Mirror neurons. Oxytocin."

Graa shifted his weight on Koen's shoulder. "I am agreeable. I came across those terms in my research. The Pick have mirror neurons too. They're important in learning.2 And mesotocin, our equivalent of oxytocin, is important in generosity3 and the formation of group-marriages."

Koen fended off another branch. He was walking with his arms out-stretched like a zombie. "Clarify? Group-marriages? You, uh, mate with many females?"

Graa's squawk frightened small, wet creatures around Koen's feet. "I am insulted! Of course no wife could be superior than the one I chose."

"Um. Sorry. I mean I don't understand what a group-marriage is."

Graa was still preoccupied by Koen's last comment. "Are human group-marriages held together by sex? I am disgusted. Pick group-marriages are superior. They are held together by nests."

Koen imagined a nest. "With eggs?"

"That's none of your business. A group-marriage builds nests together.4 It's the basic unit of society."

"Families? Tribes." Koen finally figured it out. "Flocks?"

"I am huffy. Animals have flocks. The Pick belong to group-marriages. These coordinate to form societies. The most dominant society is the Pick That Administers Direction. And I am its exploratory general! I am impressive."

"I'm very impressed," soothed Koen.

"By my command the research was done, and the research found that oxytocin works for you in many of the same ways mesotocin works for us. The difference is you don't just produce it when caring for young. You produce it when mating. You experience the same emotions with your sexual partners as you do with your offspring. I am disgusted."

Koen felt his way forward. "Are you talking about love?"

"Clarify? Love is the irrational faith that other people will fly in the same direction as you."

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Koen thought about a flock of ravens taking off.

"We have that too, and the love that parents feel for their children, and that sexual partners feel for each other. We just usually use the same word to describe them."

"You use the same word for being patronizing to something pitiful, the desire to be impressive, and flocking-faith? I am disgusted. I am fascinated. Through you, I am learning so much about Mr. Grumbles.

"Human Koen, I love you."

Koen considered that and sighed."You're patronizing to me because I'm pitiful."

"Don't hunch like that! I could lose my perch. Stand up straight and I'll let you eat a potato chip."

Koen wasn't sure whether he'd just learned something or not. It could be that Pick and human intelligence were utterly alien and irreconcilable, but it could also be that the translator bugs were making mistakes. Graa might have misunderstood the things he'd read about human hormones, and the human authors of those papers might have been wrong, too.

Koen had been a scientist long enough to take epistemological modesty seriously. The world was complicated, and even people who spent their whole lives studying it could only hope to come out of the experience slightly less wrong than they'd started. Facts seemed to change as perspectives shifted, and the question of "what matters?" went unanswered.

Which meant, as always, that Koen had to set his own assumptions. Did he want to think of the Pick as an unfathomable alien, forever out of reach? What about Mark? What about Laura?

Koen decided. He would assume that the other animals around him were people. Compassion, Graa had said. Trust. Faith that everyone would fly in the same direction.

"Huh," said Koen, and twisted his head to look Graa in the eye.

Graa switched eyes. "What is it?"

"I think I might love you too," said Koen.

"I am disgusted! Redirect your attention to this woman you're courting."

They found Mr. Grumbles behind a tree. He wouldn't come out to them. He didn't even peek from behind the trunk. He in fact shuffled around the tree as Koen approached, staying out of sight.

But he did cry. That was how they'd found him. The piercing, siren-like wails were not the sort of sounds an adult sapiens would make. Adult sapiens feared that other sapiens would interpret loud weeping as manipulative. They would try to clamp down on tears, make them quieter but more forceful, giving the impression that they were in the grip of sorrow so great as to be uncontrollable.

Mr. Grumbles was not capable of planning so far in advance. He could not calculate the likely reactions of the people around him. He could not pretend to not strategize. Like a baby, he could only cry as loudly as he could, so as to attract help.

Koen swayed under the sharp shove of Graa's takeoff. In a blast of ammoniac air, the bird flapped toward the tree, cawing a "rack rack rack" cry that Koen's translator rendered as "I am distressed!"

The wings snapped open, and a stray beam of moonlight slid like silver oil across black feathers. Graa banked behind the tree.

When Koen found them, General Graa was perched on Mr. Grumbles's shoulder, stropping his beak back and forth on the steed's cheek. Piebald fingers smoothed down the feathers on the bird's back.

"I am happy." Graa mumbled in his beak. "I grasp you with my feet. I grasp you."

Mr. Grumbles gave a deep, full-body shudder. "Huh-uh-uh!" He said, and Koen could almost hear the Thank god that's over! Tears and snot streamed down the steed's face.

General Graa hiccuped. The sound was so incongruous that Koen looked, and saw something pink dripping out of the Pick's beak. It looked like cat food.

"General Graa, are you all right?" he asked. What if the emotional old bird had a heart attack or something?

"It's nothing! Just some regurgitation. Kek. I'm annoyed! Don't look. It's nothing." His beak darted out, and dabbed some of the food onto Mr. Grumbles lips.

Koen turned away.

"Odd," said General Graa a little later. "He is surprisingly well-fed."

Koen's heart panged. "General Graa!"

The grumbling noises behind the tree stopped. "Yes? We will go soon. I command patience."

Koen's knees trembled. He clutched at his chest. "I have something to tell you."

1 Koen didn't know about the Audio Description feature.

2Prather, J. et al. (2008) "Precise auditory-vocal mirroring in neurons for learned vocal communication".

3Duque, J.F. et al. "Mesotocin influences in pinyon jay procsociality".

4Stocker, Marina et al. (2021) "Measuring salivary mesoticin in birds".