Memory Transcription Subject: Chiri, Gojid Refugee

Date [standardized human time]: November 1, 2136

David and I stood around awkwardly next to our shopping cart, surrounded by vibrant local produce and a vibrant local populace. I was probably the first Gojid any of them had ever seen. They were mostly adults, so nobody was coming up to ask to nuzzle their faces in my fur like little Helena had, but I couldn’t rule out that they might be thinking it. I was enjoying looking at all the weird Earth foods that I’d get to try this week, wondering what David would cook with them… maybe fantasizing a little about our upcoming evening together. I really wasn’t in the mood for any more social engagements today involving new people when I could be spending that time getting to know David better. Also, I was still slightly hungover underneath it all.

The critical voice cleared its imaginary throat. Alright, so you’ve gone from alone in a building with a predator, to visiting a full family dining room of predators, and now you’re in a public place being stared at by dozens of predators. Should I turn the terror juice spigot on now, or…?

What? No! I’m not in danger! Besides, I’m a predator, too!

Girl, come on. Your eyes go sideways, the voice said. You can see all of the attackers at once. We’re enjoying the full 360 experience of being surrounded by carnivores who are literally looking for fresh meat..

That is a deliberately uncharitable assessment! It's fine, I'm fine, we’re going be fine. Here, let’s look at David. It’s his planet. We can get a better idea of how to react by gauging how he’s feeling.

David took my paw in his hand and squeezed reassuringly. He was smiling politely to the crowd, but there was a tension behind his expression. His jaw was clenched, the smile didn’t reach his eyes, and he was scanning the crowd like… he was… scanning for threats.

Don’t do it, that could mean anything! I thought frantically.

Overruled. Turning on the adrenaline. Just in case we need to fight or flee. It's for your own good.

I groaned miserably in the back of my throat as my stomach started doing flips. I could feel my heartbeat pounding in my ears. I tried to take a step back behind David for safety, which was pointless when we were surrounded, but it seemed to slightly make me feel better. Feelings were fucking stupid like that.

David nodded politely to the crowd. “Hey, guys, just trying to get some shopping done,” he said with the fake cheerfulness of a career member of the service industry. Most of the crowd had already gotten a quick picture at this point, and got the hint to wander off, because they were curious about aliens, not hungry for them, which I knew intellectually, even though my body was betraying me at the moment.

One of the people in the crowd who wasn’t walking away had his eyes scrunched up in confusion while staring at David, rather than me. “...wait, hang on, you look just like the guy from that Culinary Combat meme.” David blinked, and the guy continued. “You know, uh…” The other human dropped his voice abruptly like he was mimicking someone with a more distinguished manner of elocution than his own. “‘And Chef Brenner reveals… a banana split?! Oh my God! Has he lost his senses completely?!’” He nodded, a touch embarrassed by his performance. “You know, that one?”

David laughed, and dipped his head in a quick bow. “David Brenner, Chef-Owner of the Cropsey Carnival, yes, hi.”

He mentioned he’d been on TV, said the odd voice. I think I know what we’re watching tonight.

Now that there was a celebrity involved, however minor, a few people started filtering back. This was counterproductive to making our escape, but at least most of the humans weren’t focused on me anymore. Most of them.

“Did you ever open that restaurant you were planning?” asked someone.

David nodded. “Yeah, like I said, the Cropsey Carnival. We’re in Coney Island, a couple blocks from the beach. I mean, we’re temporarily closed, because…” He paused, deigning to allow the reality of recent events to briefly weigh upon him. “Well, you all know how it went for New York…” He looked despondent for a moment, then abruptly buried his frown with a skill I’d only seen before in actors. “But we’re hoping to reopen as soon as it’s safe for customers to come by!”

“So wait, I thought we didn’t have an exchange program with these guys,” asked someone else, nodding towards me. Come on, stop making me the focus of the conversation! “Where did you get a Gojid?”

David snorted. “I didn’t get her, she’s not a collectible, Jesus. Nah, the refugee camp’s not too far from me, and I’ve been doing some civilian volunteer work to help out wherever I can. She and I just ran into each other and hit it off.”

He must have been thinking of a better cover story on the ride over after the fiasco with his cousin, said the odd voice.

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We should have thought to do that ourselves instead of staring out the window and daydreaming, said the critical voice. If you insist on continuing this farcical quest to become a better predator, add ‘predatory cunning’ to the list of skills we mean to pick up. It’ll keep us alive longer.

It was already on the list!

“Why is she here?” said a last onlooker. This one had been glaring at me the whole time. “I thought all the fuckin’ Feddies were too scared to show their faces on Earth. Just bomb us from the sky like cowards.” His voice dripped with a bitterness and pain that needed no translation.

“Buddy, come on,” said David, carefully. “We’re just shopping.”

“Why? Gonna show her the meat section so she can judge us like the rest of them?” said another angry bystander.

A third bystander interceded on our behalf. “Dude, what the fuck is your problem? The Gojids didn’t bomb Earth!”

“Not for lack of trying!”

“And they got hit harder than we did for it!”

“Good! Now let’s do the rest of them!”

“Dude, fuck right the hell off!”

More humans joined the argument, shouting and swearing and posturing. Between the fear and the translator lag, I rapidly lost track of who was speaking in the commotion. My heart pounded in my chest, and I tried again, futilely, to position David between me and the problem. Why couldn’t I fucking calm down? I hated this part of myself.

If you want to calm down, try slowly counting things you can see, said the odd voice. Start with the humans.

Five humans stood awkwardly watching from the back, three more were excitedly filming, but I was stunned to see a solid seven shoppers shouting down a mere two who didn’t want me around. The numbers were in our favor. I almost laughed. Humans found most of the mammals in the Federation to be cute, and they wanted to protect us. It was a relief, getting reminded of that.

Fight the naysayers! said the odd voice. We can win!

What? No! Don’t start a fight! The fuck is wrong with you?! shouted the critical voice.

Fight them socially, then! the odd voice compromised.

I felt confident for the first time today, so I wanted to speak for myself this time. One of the two naysayers had already retreated at this point, so I approached the remaining one. I puffed myself up as I spoke. “Look. I get it. You’re the latest victims of a centuries-old genocidal war. The details played out differently for you guys than it did for the Thafki, or for the one-fucking-fifth of all sapient species that were hunted to extinction, but I’m honestly, genuinely, glad that you guys managed to pull through. I’m sorry for your loss, but I’m not going to get into a pissing match about which species has lost the most, because the mere fact that we're both still here, in the billions, means it’s neither of ours. Person to person, though?”

I pointed at him aggressively, taking in his nice clothes and his cart full of groceries and other sundry goods. The kinds of things you needed money to purchase, and a home to make use of. The shelters already had cookpots, and they didn’t need new plumbing valves. “You seem to be doing okay. Me? I’ve lost everything. Everything. My home, my family, every single worldly possession. Even this fucking jacket isn’t mine!” I shouted, flaring the dark fabric forcefully enough to nearly tear it. “And then, finally, when I think I’ve got nothing left to lose? I turn on the news last night, and I fucking lose the entire foundation of my culture! Just gone, in an instant!”

My voice raised to a fevered pitch. I didn’t even know who this dipshit’s fucking name was, and I was full-on screaming at him. “It turns out, it basically never existed in the first place! For fuck’s sake, my whole fucking religion was tampered with! Does that sound fun to you? Do you wanna find out tomorrow that Jesus of Nazareth’s teachings about peace and love were planted there by the Farsul to get you guys to fucking chill?!”

Wait, hang on, is Chiri okay? the odd voice asked, worried.

The critical voice was stunned into silence for a moment. …are you fucking with me right now?

I was shouting now, and my voice was getting hoarse from the unexpected volume. My throat burned. I felt like I was vomiting, like there was a sickening pit in my stomach that was rapidly getting expelled. “The only thing I want is a nice little spot, somewhere, anywhere, to start over and rebuild my fucking life! And sure, if I’m apparently some kind of secret fucking carnivore, then yeah, I pick here! I choose Earth!” I spread my claws out to the endless shelves of commercial goods, fresh produce, and yes, peeking out from the next aisle over, cheese. One day, the gods willing, I’d get to try meat and see what all the fucking fuss was about. What was so fucking delicious that it was worth murdering my family over. “With everything else reduced to ashes, Earth seems like a nice enough place to figure out who the fuck I even am anymore.”

I tried to keep on my feet. I was out of breath to the point where I was feeling lightheaded. David had a supportive arm around me in an instant. A couple people tried to clap, but it petered out awkwardly. Applause was for speeches, not public meltdowns. For the most part, everyone just looked concerned about me. Well, the people who had understood me, at least. There was not-so-subtle whispering between a few of the onlookers looking for a translation.

“Sorry, what did she say? I didn’t get the chip.”