Memory transcription subject: Valek, Venlil-Human Partnership Program Participant

Date [standardized human time]: August 24th, 2136, early morning

We held each other until our sadness passed. Wishing me goodnight, Maeve climbed back to her top bunk, and I drifted back to sleep; now oddly aware of the empty space behind me.

It seemed that initiating contact crossed a line that needed to be crossed. I slept soundly that cycle, and woke up with neither anxiety nor fear. Having a shorter sleep interval, I got up quietly, and, feeling peckish, made my way to the mess hall.

There weren't many humans about; this must be the average sleep interval for the humans. I overheard something about an ‘early bird’ and ‘night owl’, I'll have to ask Maeve about that. I was glad to see the other partners were getting along well! It had only been a few sleep cycles, and tension was already noticeably less, and I saw fewer and fewer masks every waking. One pair seemed to be enjoying themselves, though the Venlil was wrapped in a towel; that was odd [NSFW].

Finding myself in the mess hall, I saw mostly Venlil in attendance at this claw, though there seemed to be an excited group at a large table in the center.

“I haven't seen a root like this on anything but old growth trees!”

“This is a berry??? It's practically a melon!”

It seems I wasn't the only one who was intrigued by human cuisine! One of the Venlil cooks had brought out many of the unprepared foods from the kitchen, so the Venlil could see what the humans ate in their natural state. It appears the cranberries I had were also cooked, these raw berries were as large as my big teeth! I handled a bushel of grapes, each massive berry a small pawful. Taking a full bite of one, I was met with an incredible blend of tart and sweet that set me fully awake. If this were their flora, I could only imagine how massive their fauna had to be! It was well known that humans were relatively defenseless, lacking claws and fur; how could they survive on a world likely teeming with monstrous competition?

Armed with an exciting new question, I grabbed a healthy bowl of fruits for me, and a couple things called granola and yogurt for Maeve, by the cook’s suggestion. I headed back to the room; Maeve should be waking shortly.

The door sliding aside, I noticed Maeve had already awoken and was getting dressed. “Good waking! I hope you slept well.” Taking the tray inside, I slid it onto the small counter and turned, my tail flicking and curling happily.

“I did, thank you. I'm sorry for… Last night. I didn't mean to snap.” Maeve spoke softly, smiling with her eyes, then with her teeth when she saw breakfast.

“It’s ok. It had never clicked to me that our rejection would affect you, I'm sorry. I won't pretend it's not an effort to not be afraid, but please know I enjoy your company, and you, and I wouldn't ever want to lose our friendship!”

“Thank you Valek, I really look forward to my time with you, too,” she said, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder, my body instinctively leaning into it. “So! What's the plan today?”

“Well, I wanted to ask you… how did humans survive on your planet?? If this fruit is any indication, your world must be filled with monstrous beasts, predators and prey alike!”

“Heh, well you're not wrong, but I want to make sure I’m understanding you correctly.” she held up a piece of watermelon, “What do you think eats this?”

Looking at the piece, I could see it was a small sliver of a much larger whole. The whole fruit would easily be as long, and twice as wide as my torso! Its coloring told me it liked green areas, so it's not a Twilight fruit. “I imagine a large herbivore. Something that could take the whole thing in its mouth and crush it. Maybe sucking its juices and discarding the husk?”

“Very good! This is a Watermelon, and you're right that a creature like that, the Hippopotamus, absolutely loves these, but it’s not their natural predator. Want to guess again?”

Looking at her taking a large bite, I realized the obvious, “Well. You, of course!”

“There you go! So you remember last night we talked about something? Something like ‘intentionally direct these stressors to better suit our needs’... ring a bell?”

I thought for a long moment. It was only in passing, and the word was foreign to me. “... making… a home-thing?”

Maeve burst out laughing, almost choking on a piece of watermelon, “Right, the translator would have fun with that word. The word is Domestication,” she started mixing a bowl of the ‘yogurt’, granola, and some smaller berries. “It means to make something better suited to humans. Domestic is something that is like home, or more generally, like humans. In human English, which is the language I'm speaking, -ication, or a word ending in -tion, means the process or action of. Do you know what Evolution is?”

“Right, incremental random change that, over time, makes something more likely to be successful,” I answered, my tail flicking an affirmative.

“That’s the same with us, mostly,” she continued, “But I’d like to emphasize ‘incremental random change’. Domestication, in broad terms, means incremental intentional change.”

“Humans noticed, right around or just before the invention of agriculture, that when two things breed, they give birth to something that is similar, but slightly different to its parents. But they noticed that some things, some predictable things, carry over. And with some experimentation, they realized some things were additive. We grew wheat, and discovered if we destroyed the small or unproductive wheat, larger and more productive wheat would grow in its place. We talked about wolves last night: we drove away the wolves that wouldn't work with us, and kept the ones that did, thereby breeding a separate species that was better for us.”

“Wait, you experimented on other species for your own gain?” I asked, worriedly.

“I hesitate to say ‘experimented’. This was before civilization, right at the start of what we would consider ‘Humans'’ to be ‘Human’. Also, this process took decades to make meaningful progress, thousands of years to see what we have today, and it only worked with maybe a couple dozen species of animals, and a couple hundred species of plants. Domestication needs a few things to work, and not many creatures, plants or otherwise, fit the bill.”

“How does that fit into my question? What do you mean ‘Humans are the ones who eat watermelon’?”

“I mean that all of the human food you've seen on the station could never exist in the wild without human intervention; they are made for humans, by humans, and humans are their only natural predator. You're right that the watermelon is a monstrous fruit, but it didn't used to be.” Maeve pulled out her pad and navigated to the human internet, searching for Giovanni Stanchi watermelons. She showed me a picture of what appeared to be a painting. It showed a bowl of fruit in beautiful colors! She indicated a strange whirled fruit on the floor to the right of the basket, “This is what a wild watermelon looked like some six hundred years ago, when this painting was made. Watermelon used to be much smaller, and more fibrous; they evolved to mostly rot and grow where they fell, so they didn’t need a predator to distribute seeds. Many creatures still ate it, especially while it was decomposing, such as insects, small herbivores, and even a few larger herbivores like deer. Humans saw other creatures eating it, tried it, and found it to be delicious. We included it into our crops, and allowed the larger, fruiter, and sweeter melons to grow. What you see here on the station is a product of at least 600 years of selective breeding!”

“Wow!” I whispered, looking at the ancient painting, “So much of Venlil Prime provides for us. We have agriculture, obviously, but nothing like what you humans are doing. It’s almost like you're at war to make the biggest berry!” I chortled, amusing myself with the ridiculousness of the thought.

We laughed together at the absurdity of the idea, but something tickled my thoughts.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“So you've domesticated wolves, wheat and watermelons… What else have your people domesticated?”

Maeve seemed to deflate at this question. “I’m sorry, but that is a difficult question, and I'm worried it may change your opinion of us. Are you sure you want to know this?”

I thought for a long moment. I knew there were some things that we weren't allowed to talk about, but in the privacy of our room we normally answered each other truthfully. If Maeve is hesitant, this may be serious. “I know you humans have a complicated history. I trust you implicitly, and I know you are not your ancestors. You can tell me anything, and I will be eager to learn. Even the bad stuff.” I stepped closer, and placed my paw where I could reach; clearly touch was a human need, and I needed to show I was there, and supportive. She placed a free hand on my paw, and blinked away a tear.

“Ok. Bad news first. Rip the bandaid…” she muttered, not knowing I heard. “So, you remember last night when we… had a moment? I told you Venlil were similar to a couple creatures on Earth that we were familiar with? Well… one in particular is a species we domesticated; very very early. If I'm honest, it may be a significant reason why we are so immediately protective of your people.”

I cocked my head. Some Venlil have gotten into the habit of nosing to their humans, reciprocating their own nosing, but my head was turned, one eye totally focused. I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

“There's several families, broadly called Ungulates, but you are most similar to one we call Sheep. There are many differences: they are not sentient that we can tell, they have hooves rather than paws or claws, and their ears are not even similar. But they are warm-blooded, give birth to live young, have a similar snouted face, they have similar slotted eyes and a wide field of view, and, most apparently, they have a thick wool coat.”

She breathed a moment, letting me soak in this information. A non-sapient Venlil? What would have happened if our early history were different? What was the step that kept these Sheep from becoming sentient? How were they treated? Maeve said humans were protective of us, possibly because of their history with these sheep. My eyes began to lose focus.

“You ok? Valek? Please say something.”

My tail limp on the ground, it had occurred to me that I had forgotten to breathe; for how long I don’t know. My first breath was full, a gasp of life, the next several were not. “Ok, let’s get you on the bed. I'll carry you if I have to.” With a guiding hand at my shoulder, I stepped backward. With a kind arm at my back, I was lowered onto the bed. “It’s ok. It’s ok. Just breathe. Long in, slow out. It’s ok.” I closed my eyes, and put my mind to my breathing. Feeling Maeve beside me, I leaned against her. Such a mirror of a scant two claws ago would be comical, if not permeated by a panic attack. Feeling her supportive weight beside me, and comforting heat at my back, I began to calm. They are not their ancestors.

“It’s ok,” cooed Maeve, “this is a lot. We can stop. Take a minute”

“No. This is something I need to know. So much of what humans are is confounding. I need to know how you got to where you are.”

I took several steading breaths, my tail wrapping around Maeve’s waist. “What are these sheep to you? How do you treat them?”

She took her own shuddering breath, her hand petting my back; too fast, something was wrong.

“It’s a long history, so I’ll start from the beginning. Not all of it is kind, but all of it is true, to the best of my knowledge.” taking a breath, she continued.

“In our early history, there was a crisis that pushed us out of the savannah, and our people scattered to the corners of our world, taking our livestock with us. We know that things like sheep were domesticated very early, because things like them are scattered across most of the planet, as if following our exodus. These sheep-cousins, we call them Goats, were hardy creatures; they could pull with strength, could keep up with us through difficult terrain, and survive many climates. And, yes, they served as a ready food source, when nature couldn't provide.”

I flinched at this reveal, but Maeve comforted me, “I’m sorry, but in the eons before tools and civilization, we had to use what was available to us. We would make use of them while they lived; their labor helped us in many ways and their milk sustained us when food was scarce. But sometimes, meat would be needed, and the Goat would provide. We used every part; hide and fur for clothes and shelter, bone, horn, tendon and sinew for tools. The Goat was so vital to our survival during this time, that the scientific consensus is that they were a foundation of civilization. Without the Goat, and a few others, we would be no different than the other apes on earth, if humanity survived at all.”

My tail flicked nervously, but my eye never left her face. Gone was the glow of excitement when she told me about teeth, her nervous flush when she told me about human touch. She was… So sad. Like she would rather protect me from a secret of the world, but knew it must be known. It reminded me of when my parents told me about the Arxur.

“The Goat, and later the Sheep, provided us with shelter, companionship, and much needed nourishment during famine. As long as 5 thousand years ago, the Sheep was used more for its Wool than its meat, and only killed in the most dire need, or as a mercy to the animal. Some of our earliest religions worshiped the goat, and our modern faiths use the Sheep and the Lamb as the symbol of trust, innocence, and life worth protecting.”

“I can say this with the utmost confidence: Humanity will protect the Venlil with every fiber of our being.”

We sat for a long while in silence. Trying to absorb this reality, I asked what may be the most dangerous question I've ever asked:

“Will humans… change us?” They are not their Ancestors!

Maeve shook her head slowly, “No. All things change, we will change you just as you change us. But I don't believe the Venlil are able to be domesticated. Focusing on pragmatism, there is nothing the Venlil have or do which we cannot already do better through technology or beasts we have already domesticated.”

“But, if knowing helps comfort you: As I mentioned, the Venlil have nothing to offer. Your wool is attractive, but we already have sheep. You're strong for your size, but our machines are stronger. You’re fantastically intelligent, but domestication would take that away.”

“We don't know your breeding information, but just looking around it appears you have small or singular litters, and it’s clear your young take several human years to mature. Even ignoring gestational information, this means it would take several human generations to make meaningful change; too much investment. It’s true you don't eat meat, but you eat many of the things we eat or want to eat, so it would be impractical to keep a herd fed in addition to ourselves. You have herd instincts, but you still think for yourselves, so we can’t use that to our advantage. The only box that is ticked, plus food if you want to stretch it, is keeping you contained, which due to your intelligence would still be a big problem, even with our advanced technology.”

“No. I can say with great confidence that the Venlil cannot be domesticated, even by the Arxur.”

I was still shocked and confused. My body was tight and curled around myself. I could feel her hand behind me, trying to comfort me, but it was just keeping my nerves bound. “This is a lot to take in, and I can tell you're nervous. I’ll give you some space.”

She withdrew her hand from behind me, and lifted herself from the bed.

She stepped to the door -- They are not their Ancestors!

A small sound escaped me, barely a whimper “Wait”

She halted at the door, without turning to me. “..... I don't want you to leave. Please, just. Stay.”

She came back to the bed, and sat a distance from me, staring at the floor. I got up and did something I never imagined I would do with a predator. I crawled across the bed, and into her arms resting my head under her chin.

“What happened next?”

She drew a shuddering breath, and through a trembling lip continued.

“Then it got bad. When we moved into our industrial revolution, our people were seized by a philosophy of progress and production. We saw our livestock as a resource, as a product, a means to enrich some people greatly, and others less. Our faiths were perverted by entitlement, and for almost three hundred years, we inflicted such horrors on our charges, our world, and on ourselves, that we nearly brought about our own extinction.”

I listened to her words. We had roughly caught up to what the Federation already knew, but she took a deep breath, and spoke with a certain confidence and pride I haven't heard yet:

“These atrocities were enabled by a deeply entrenched infrastructure and philosophy, which we finally had the chance to shake because of our Satellite Wars. This was the last Big war before really reaching the stars. It had its horrors, as any war does, but its largest effect was on our infrastructure. We had a deeply interconnected world with the internet and electricity, and these wars did so much damage to it that we needed to rebuild it from the ground up. With the larger economic powers reeling- America, China, certain tech giants- after the dust cleared the United Nations filled the world-wide power vacuum, whose members, blessedly, took the better road, and laid a legal groundwork where such attacks, and such reliance, wouldn't happen again.”

I lifted my head from her chest, not totally believing what I was hearing.

“These laws limited the ability of powerful people to consolidate their ideologies and influence. This, combined with the newfound power of the UN, finally working for the good of many, meant we finally had the support, and lack of opposition, to pursue renewable sciences with fervor. This was how we developed true lab grown meat, and were able to allocate resources effectively to essentially eliminate poverty and scarcity. We created colonies on Earth’s Moon, and on Mars. Even now, we are still pushing, still growing. I heard rumors of the promise of a Dyson Swarm, but we still have a long road to walk.”

My tail started to flick and curl. Her pride in how far humanity had come was infectious. Her tears were finally starting to dry.

“Then, we found you. And learned we aren't alone. And, I hope, never will be again.”

I put my paw on her shoulder, and pulled myself up, pressing my snout into her chin. She pulled me closer to her, if such a thing were possible, and held me in an embrace I don't believe any creature could ever want to leave. I could hear her shaky breathing and feel her powerfully pounding heart next to me.

No. Never alone.