NICK WAS STARVING.
However, despite her stomach’s groans, she couldn’t bring herself to eat.
“Are you sure this is food?” she spoke with disgust.
Exflibberaguil, however, didn’t look like he heard or, if he did, decided not to speak. He shoveled Spoonfuls of glowing blue soup and something green that looked like radioactive batteries. Noticing Nick’s look of disgust, he asked, “Aren’t you going to eat?”
“Eat that? No! Never! Even though it smells delicious,” Nick added hesitantly.
Exflibberaguil looked at Nick with a mixture of wonder and confusion. “You must be hungry by now,” he said, “unless humans have evolved a second stomach. Your body looks a little too small to fit too of the though…” his eyes ran down her torso.
Nick shifted uncomfortably. “Stop looking at me you perv!”
“What’s a perv?”
“A pervert you idiot!”
“Well then,” Exflibberaguil replied with the air of a young child, “I will continue enjoying this marvelous food while you starve to death. Besides, I kidnapped you for your brain anyway, not that it seems like you have a very large one. But did you know, your brain can sell for three thousand Unpoppable Bubbles! Brains of such a primitive species are hard to find nowadays.”
“What! You’re not taking my brain!” Nick screamed, clutching her cranium with her hands.
“It was a joke,” Exflibberaguil said flatly.
“A bad one!”
“Interesting though,” Exflibberaguil began again, after a moment of silence, “can primitive species not define the difference between jokes and everyday speech?”
“I’m not a primitive species,” Nick said hotly, “and I know good jokes, not ones of questionable taste.”
Exflibberaguil sighed, looking at Nick with pity. “Well then, you must eat. Starving is a very painful way to die. What’s the pain factor, box?”
“5.8123 out of ten,” Box replied from his charging station, every bit as dent and dirty as he had been the day before.
“Exactly. And what’s so bad about the food anyway?”
“It looks like it was dipped in printer ink!”
“Oh!” Exflibberaguil exclaimed, “Box, note that down. Odriew do not like food that are bright blue or bright green.”
“Or bright anything!” Nick added.
Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.
“Then explain cheese puffs!”
Nick sniffed indignantly, but had nothing to say.
“Look, if you aren’t going to eat, can I have your portion?”
Nick sighed with defeat. Food was food. Besides, her stomach would never forgive her if she passed on this chance. “Fine. I’ll eat your artificially colored food, but only because it smells like fresh hot pancakes topped with whipped cream and raspberry sorbet.”
Nick dropped into a duck-shaped chair stiffly. The radioactive batteries wobbled. Yellow, slimy pus leaked out from cracks. The blue soup was dotted with fleshy pink bits and more batteries. Closing her eyes and pinching her nose, Nick shoved one spoonful into her mouth.
Her taste buds exploded with confusion.
Her first reaction was that it was sweet, but then she decided it was actually rather salty. While Nick had been debating what flavor it actually was, the color kicked in. She couldn’t explain it, but she felt a whole new, delightful flavor she could only describe as blue.
“I’m tasting blue,” she gurgled through mouthfuls of soup.
Exflibberaguil had, once again, been watching Nick with the look of a scientist. Now he smiled rather arrogantly (Nick thought), taking a breath in to prepare for a speech. “Sodriew taste partially with their nose, actually, which is why pinching your nose can take away some of the flavor. I can’t imagine why Sodriew actually want to take away the flavor though. If one didn’t like the flavor of something, they shouldn’t have ate it anyway. But that’s for another day.
More advanced species, which is practically all species, have an extra sense, being about to taste by seeing. Not seeing through their eyes, of course. One species, the Greets, had once been able to, at one point in time. However, once when a Greet was piloting a ship, she crashed while eating a particularly bright-colored food which made her see practically nothing by red. From then on, the Galactic Yelling Papers had instructed that eating while piloting was outlawed until the Greets were extinct. The Greets were a rather old species who died out a few millennials ago by warfare.
All current advanced species in this galaxy have evolved so that their conscious sight would not be obstructed while eating and piloting. Instead, they have a mind’s eye, which can allow their subconscious to see the colors. This is actually something that develops quite early in evolution and, as I predicted, Sodriew have started developing it already. Do you know if your parents have this? Or what generation this attribute started developing?”
Nick barely listened. When Exflibberaguil stopped speaking, she realized he had been waiting for an answer of some sort, though she had no idea what the question was. So she resorted to her comeback. “Nerd,” Nick burped.
“Naturally. I know almost everything you Sodriew can’t explain.”
“Oh, really?” Nick asked, as she moved on to the batteries, “I sense a challenge.”
“So be it.”
“Hmm,” Nick though, yellow goo dripping down her chin, “What’s the meaning of life?”
“To help the next generation,” Exflibberaguil answered promptly.
Nick was surprised. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. You have to explain that.”
“Easy. You live to either create, educate, or provide for the next generation. Parents create the children. Those who don’t create children can teach them, adopt them, or care for them.”
“What about businessmen?”
“They, essentially, make money to provide for their children, or the next generation who would inevitably take over the business.”
“But what about the people who buy the products?”
“They are giving up their money for the next generation, or the business. And they must need to earn money to pay for the products. Even if they don’t have any children, and spend all their money, they are still providing for the person they gave their money to in exchange for products. The meaning of life is to help the next generation.”
Nick tried frantically to think of some way to refute this, but could not.
“You see,” Exflibberaguil said with satisfaction, “I really do know everything.”