Memory Transcription Subject: Chiri, Gojid Refugee
Date [standardized human time]: November 1, 2136
Between the two of us, David and I finished our red breakfast stew, and we practically wiped the pot clean as we mopped up the dregs with our remaining bread. Most of the human meals I’d tried so far had been very filling, and this was no exception. Thanks to the sampling bias of having spent most of my time on Earth to date in a refugee camp surrounded by soldiers--people who needed to be strong professionally, in other words--David was honestly one of the weaker-looking humans I’d met so far, and he was still a head taller than me and more muscly than a farmhand pulling double-shifts. Humans probably had enormous calorie requirements, just to maintain “human standard” muscle mass.
In other words, the critical voice chimed in, you’re going to get fat if you don’t stop trying to keep pace with a human.
A male human, too, the odd voice added. Remember, the males trend larger.
Whatever. I’ll just hit the gym more often or something. The whole point of going native on Earth was to get stronger. It doesn’t have to be a metaphor.
If human females trend smaller, I wonder if he’ll like you less if you stop being small and cute? mused the odd voice.
Ooh, jotting that one down, said the critical voice in a rare collaborative moment.
I’m doing this for me! Not everything is about him! Gods, we met like twelve hours ago, and I was asleep for most of them!
Didn’t stop you from telling him to-- the critical voice began.
Nope, nope, nope! I get the gist of what I did, and I stand by it, but we are keeping the corny details over on your side of the brain with the other traumatic memories.
As you wish, said the critical voice. I’ll table the topic and bring it up the next time you can’t sleep.
Eugh.
I finished my water, and washed up a little. David set out a few articles of clothing he thought might fit me. Gojids had a proportionally broader frame than humans, which actually seemed to put David and I at comparable shoulder sizes. Most of David’s coats seemed to fit me as long as I kept my quills relaxed. I wanted the shiny sky blue waist-length coat with the poofy sections that looked like I had a pillow wrapped around me, but David pointed me towards a thinner coat that went down past my knees. It was dark blue, and the collar and silvery buttons made it look like I was wearing a military dress uniform.
David gestured at his torso, from shoulders to knees. “It’s technically illegal to go outside without being at least mostly covered up,” he said. “It’s a public decency thing. I’m pretty sure we’re going to update how those laws apply to aliens, but Congress isn’t exactly famous for their alacrity. I don’t think anything in their right mind would enforce those laws against you, but… ehh, what can I say, I’m paranoid.”
My nose scrunched up as I looked down at the long coat of cloth I was wearing. “You’re required by law to wear these all the time? That’s so stupid! I thought it was just because you’re mostly hairless and get cold easily. What if you get hot instead? You just have to endure it because of some dumbshit morality police?”
David rubbed his eyes. “Chiri, have you ever actually seen a human without their clothes on?”
I blushed, but volleyed back. “Why, you offering?”
David laughed. “If you’re not sick of me by tonight, then happily. But I just meant it’s kind of, umm…” He shook his head. “It’s not really subtle, why those laws are there.”
My eyes narrowed. “Well, now I’m just going to be wondering about this all afternoon.”
David sighed. “Alright, hang on. Let me meet you halfway, then. There’s a certain exception for males basically everywhere.” He rather unceremoniously took his shirt off.
I turned blue as a berry.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
Two things were immediately made clear to me: one, human males had vestigial nipples--not really weird, so did Gojids, and it was more common than not among Federation mammals; nice to have confirmation, though--and two, oh dear gods, they were just there, holy shit! I could see everything! No, like, petting or brushing aside fur during a lover’s embrace, just woop, out in the open!
“Are you alright?” asked David, standing there completely unaware of what was going through my head. “You’re turning blue around the lips again. That’s a sign of hypothermia or hypoxia in humans.”
“I’m good,” I said stiffly, my eyes wide. “Turning bluish is not medically relevant in Gojids. Thank you for indulging me. I’ll keep the jacket on.”
David shrugged, and put his shirt back on. Tonight was going to be interesting, to say the least.
The stairs were less terrible on the way down. David locked the door behind us, and checked twice that it stayed that way. It was chilly and windy outside, but the sun was blazing, so it was both hot and cold depending on available shade or whether the odd half-wall standing amongst the ruins was blocking the wind. We looped around the building, carefully picking our way over debris, and found a small boat moored on the water on the nearby inlet, overshadowed by an enormous hill of rubble.
The boat itself was blue and white, made of a synthetic material, aerodynamically pointed--aquadynamically pointed?--and didn’t look terribly large. It had a cramped indoor area that could probably fit a small family snugly for a few days on a vacation, and some fenced-in space on top to enjoy the air and sea. I’d lived inland, so I had little experience with boats, but the occasional eccentric Gojid with money to spare could buy a similarly-sized shuttle for vacationing on the colony worlds. My parents were far too boring to ever buy one. They’d fly commercial to trade shows and marketing events for our family’s wine exports, but never seemed to want to leave the Cradle otherwise.
The oddest part of the boat, though, was the large watertight refrigerator.
“It’s for fishing,” said David, as he fitted me with a floatation vest. “If you catch anything and plan on actually eating it, you want to keep it chilled--or preferably alive and submerged--until you get back to land.”
My mouth worked silently as the translator unpacked that. “You have a separate word for hunting sea creatures?” I asked.
David shrugged as he fussed with the straps. “I suppose so? It’s a different technique. There aren’t typically weapons involved. They get treated as separate concepts.”
Hey other lady, said the odd voice, can you hand me the box with all the shits we were taught to give about the terrible and strange creatures lurking beneath the waves?
The critical voice sighed. There is no such box, and if it existed, it would be empty.
My eyes narrowed. “Can you teach me to fish?”
David thought for a moment. “I’ll have to brush up on some of the details, but yeah, probably.”
I pumped a fist in the air victoriously, then abruptly stopped to steady myself on the wobbly floor. I think it was called a deck when it was on a ship? David, with the benefit of experience, kept his footing effortlessly.
“How soon can we go fishing?” I asked, once the boat calmed down and stopped rocking so much.
David shrugged. “As soon as you like, I suppose, but if you want to actually catch something, I’d probably wait until it gets warmer.” He nodded towards the water. “Most of the interesting fish around here are migratory. They leave when it gets cold.”
My face fell. First no Terran orchards, now no Terran sea hunting lessons? “Not much to do around here in winter, then?”
“Used to be a lot of fun winter activities back when the city was still standing,” he said, as he finished preparing the boat to launch. “New York was known for our museums and theaters, plus our shopping and restaurants, all of which would have been open year-round. Then there were ice skating rinks, the Christmas tree lighting at Rockefeller Center, all the cute shops and food stands at the winter village at Bryant Park…” David smiled wistfully. He patted me on a well-padded shoulder, as he settled in to start the engine. “This winter, it’s gonna be a lot of practicing new recipes, and catching up with all the best Terran movies.”
The boat lurched as the engine roared to life, and we pulled out into the open water. David veered left, taking us around the tip of the island, and we ventured out to sea. I poked my head outside and was immediately blasted in the face by a freezing wind whipping past us, so I resigned myself to pressing my snout against the windows of the warm cabin. The beach where I’d first tried to hunt on my own zipped away behind us, the strange sign still staring grimly back at me.
“What’s that amusement park called?” I asked, still unable to read the local Terran language.
“Hm?” said David, turning back. “Oh, yeah, that’s Luna Park. Along with the beach and the boardwalk, it's been practically synonymous with Coney Island since it first opened.”
“Luna…” I said, thinking. “That’s the old and fanciful name of your one moon, right?”
Luna is a nice name, said the odd voice, humming quietly to itself.
David nodded. “Yup! But yeah, Luna Park was a little pricey, but it was nice to have all the rides right in my backyard. There was a minor league baseball team who played next door, and named themselves after the biggest ride, an old rollercoaster. Go Cyclones.”
I nodded, and tried to imagine what the waterfront would have looked like when it was still standing.
“If you look out the front window,” said David, “you can already see where we’re going. The part of New Jersey where my cousins live is just barely visible from the Coney Island beach on a clear day.”
I squinted at the horizon, and could already see land coming into view. “Oh, it’s just a bay? I was worried we were heading out to sea.”
David shook his head. “Nope, just the other side of the bay. If you look at a map, they almost mirror each other.”
I stared quietly at the choppy sea for a bit, before I asked the other question on my mind. “Why did you call them the ‘least-shitty’ part of your family?”