Memory transcript subject: Sysill, Recovering PD patient, Unemployed
Date [Standardized human time]: October 10th, 2136
I just can’t stop shaking. This whole day has been terrible.
Not my worst, there was plenty of competition for that title. Didn’t change the fact that this one was still stressful. Really, really, stressful. Because today, the doctors cleared me to go out and attempt to find some gainful employment. Didn’t make finding a herd a task, which was a rare mercy.
Still, the prospect of facing any strangers would have usually taken me a whole claw just to work up the strength for. Time however, was not on my side. While they didn’t expect me to just walk into a successful career in one paw, I would need to argue that I’ve been making a genuine effort. This left me trapped in a horrible situation with no easy way out.
Talk to a bunch of strangers, then argue with the people who hold the power to ruin my life. No matter what, that is what is going to happen. Nothing will change this. I can’t even think about it without getting distressed. All the nurses have to do is start yelling at me and I’ll melt into a babbling mess of tears, no matter how good I actually do today.
Dread. That’s the feeling I have right now. It’s not fear, no. Fear is the worry that something bad might happen. There is some thin flake of hope in fear that you might escape. Fear is a motivator, strength even. It drives a person to do things they normally can’t do, to run when your legs would have usually given out, to slash at the monsters trying to hurt you. This is not fear because I have no hope. Instead, I know with absolute certainty that something terrible is going to happen and there is nothing I can do about it.
I’m going to stress myself to the point I pluck myself clean, and then I’ll go back to the facility with nothing to show for it, get yelled at, and then be subject to more ‘treatment’. I want to just run back to the apartment I’m sharing with that gojid, Obour, and rot for the next few claws but that’d just make things worse. So dread’s sibling emotion drives me on to the next business.
Walk in, mumble out my request to be employed. Show them my empty resume alongside my PD diagnosis. Get rejected. Move on.
There is some other horrid thought that has been haunting me. I’ve passed by it a few times by accident, and now I do so on purpose. That one building at the corner, near the edge of town. Its sign is still up despite the apparent wear on it. “Soursap Still”.
There’s a predator here.
My brain is already drowning in a horrid biochemical cocktail so it doesn’t elicit much more of a reaction until it looks my way. Thankfully it seems focused on doing work on, something? What exactly it’s trying to do and why is completely beyond me but I try to get an understanding through very thorough and very distant observation. My mind starts to calm as I focus on this new task I’ve given myself.
Discarded furniture, garbage bags, delivery trucks dropping off all sorts of crates of varying sizes. It’s cleaning, which is interesting. Predators don’t usually care for that sort of thing. Most would assume that this meant that someone else was guiding its work. Most people make too many assumptions.I’ve been reading up on the announcements, all the UN data dumps. There is no way to verify the information we’ve been given so discerning fact from deception is near impossible. That being said, there is far too much being presented for this all to have been written up after some sort of single day analysis on our cultures. Some of it may be modified to be more appealing or outright omitted but that doesn’t change the most important part of the data dumps.
Despite all the uncertainty, it implies a deeper culture and intelligence that so many others are far too quick to write off. The auxur are eager to display their savageness. They perceive their brutishness as something worth being proud of. Humans, though, seem to have a better understanding of discretion. Not only that, but they have examples of music, drawings, sculptures, and so many other forms of artistic expression and talent, every bit of it unique from the federation.Proof of these odd predators' sophistication can be seen just by looking at them. Each one seems to wear a unique arrangement of false pelts. They apparently even have a collection of these intricate coverings that they maintain and change out all the time!
My point being, humans clearly value how they are perceived. A large part of that perception must involve the quality of their false-pelt arrangements. Dirty or otherwise inadequate displays must be shameful in some way. This may also be an indirect method of communication as well. Anti-social as predators are, they might value any and every shortcut to conversations that they can find.
Cleanliness may just be inherent to these creatures. It might even extend to their abodes. Disorderly living spaces may imply they lack the wellbeing to defend any land claims, or simply that they stopped caring about the territory leaving it open to competition.
…I’m doing it again. I'm fixating on something so I can escape that oppressive feeling of worry. At least there's a deeper reason to all this rambling.
I needed to be sure before I really entertained the idea. When it finally decided to paint over the old sign with “Toki and Dave’s Hobby Shop” I felt both excitement, and dread flood into my body. This is a business. I can apply there.
I struggle talking to people. It’s not that I don’t want to, it's just scary, overwhelming, and I can see every little mistake I’m making. No matter what I do I end up being annoying and difficult to be around. I quickly stop trying when I see people getting tired of me.
Predators wouldn’t really care that much though, would they? They’d probably appreciate me being quiet the entire time I’m around rather than bothering it like everyone else probably does. I could have a nice, quiet shift provided that they don’t kill me. This could really work out. I wouldn’t even need to argue with the nurses if they accept me. It’s not like there’s a ton of other applicants for “Toki and Dave” to pick from either.
I hate this. I hate that my options are working in a predator den and going back to the facility. I hate that throwing myself to the flesh eaters is probably preferable. Those things might actually be my ticket to getting a somewhat normal life. Finally getting to settle down, make my own home…
The only thing between me and finally having some stability in my life is one or two hyper violent semi-sapients. That’s all.
Memory transcript subject: Liam Wahlburg, Ex Red-Cross Field Medic, Business Owner
Date [Standardized human time]: October 10th, 2136
I didn’t really pay them much notice at first, mostly because I’m doing my best to be polite and not aim my head across the street. That stork looking fella wasn’t the sneakiest though. It was easier to pick them out after the 4th time that they swooped on by. After the 6th pass today I decided to look them up.
Duerten apparently. Doubted it at first just because their homeworld is supposedly pretty far away from here. Not sure what one of them is doing all the way out on Colia, especially considering that they’re a pretty tight knit community and this one seems to be on their own.
Wonder if they’re one of the exterminators. Those folks haven’t been a rare sight. There hasn’t been a single minute that one of them wasn’t wandering around within eyesight of the shop. I wonder how long it’s gonna be before this place gets raided. Hopefully they’ll leave my birds alone if things get crazy out here.
Just as I was finishing up with the new signage another delivery truck pulled up. This one’s smaller than the others, and didn’t go around back. Instead, a venlil hops out of the driver’s seat and bounds up to me in a rare display of confidence. Checking over their data pad they call out to me directly.
“Hey, Liam Wah-wall…”“Wahlburg, Liam will do just fine though. What do you have for me?”
The small venlil extends the pad out to me to sign and check over the item listing. At the same time, a bewildered zurulian steps out and opens up the trunk, startling the precious cargo. A third passenger, one I can’t identify on account of the massive silver suit, also gets out and stands at attention next to the truck.
“Well, gotta say. This is the first time I’ve ever transported a living animal. You don’t know what kinda mess it’s been trying to get this through to you!”
I can’t help but chuckle. “Sorry friend! I’m thankful for it though. I couldn’t stand leaving my little buddies behind like that.”
After scanning my thumb print and handing the tablet over the venlil guides me over to the back of the truck. Sadly, I was intercepted by the exterminator. Their voice is muffed heavily by the suit but they still manage to deliver the intended venom through their words.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
“Stop predator. Orders are to complete the delivery ourselves. Step away. Now.”
A bit dejected but I didn’t want to stir up trouble with the freak who has a WW2 era weapon of terror strapped to their back. Patiently I watched as they slowly walked around, urging the others to get back into the truck, and pulled the first cage towards the edge of the truck. I saw it too late to say anything, but it looked like there was some damage on the frame that connected the smaller cage to its plastic flooring.
The bottom fell out just as soon as it left the support of the truck bed. Both birds started going crazy, though it was poor Dave that got tossed to the curb alongside all the bedding, food pellets, and toys. It was heartbreaking watching the little guy flop around on the ground like that. I tried to step closer but the bastard of an exterminator grabbed at the handle of their flamethrower, so I backed off.
“My bad, predator.” He seemed to savor the sight of Dave hopping up and flying away. The dumb fool thinks he’s saving the birds! As smart as my two little friends are, I doubt their ability to adapt to a place as cold and alien as this.
As soon as they got their bearings, Dave the caique circled around and dived right for my shoulder. Their colorful plumage was fluffed all the way out. Dave made sure to let his displeasure be heard by squawking up a storm. I could tell they’ve been really stressed when he starts taking breaks from yelling at his handlers to comb and nibble my hair with his beak. An odd mannerism but it’s part of what makes Dave who he is.
Gently I raise a hand to cup it around them. Dave doesn’t hesitate and nuzzles in, letting me pet their head with my thumb. They seem to have calmed enough to just chirp at me more than anything else.
It took me a moment to realize something changed. I was so focused on coddling the bird on my shoulder that I almost missed the total silence that suddenly took over. Looking around, everyone else seemed to be in stunned silence, even the few odd observers from across the street.
“...What?” Ok, I admit that my fake confusion was a little smug. It’s a lot of fun seeing these people short circuit like that. “Look, can you just get Toki out? Please?” There was no immediate response from the onlookers. They just sat there with mouths hung open.
The venlil speaks up first from the driver’s seat. “H-how? Why did it…”“Dave trusts me not to drop him. Not complicated.”
My jab knocks the exterminator out of their stupor. “N-no! It’s not that simple! Why would a prey fly to anyone like that? Why you, you’re just going to eat it?!”
“I’d never! This little clown-bird is a long time friend! All I’ve ever done to Dave was care for him.”
They just sputter and stare for another moment, desperately trying to find a rebuttal. Eventually the bird abuser gives up and walks back to the cabin of the truck. With everyone else cleared away, I was free to recover my other companion! It seems like Toki’s cage has similar damage as well. The clasps were cut at some point. Dicks.
I opted to just lift the whole cage up and over Toki. It was a bit awkward and I had to set Dave off to the side for a moment to do so. Dave’s cage is big, but Toki is an African Gray so they’re extra big. I coo to the poor guy as they squawk at me. Toki practically falls into my arms as I scoop them up.
Toki, also strange for a bird, likes being held by me. Sometimes I can hold them like a hamburger, though mostly they like being cradled like a baby. Not sure how I ended up with these two dramatic ass children but their oddities have a certain charm.
Knocking on the truck window I managed to startle all three passengers.
“Hey, I’m gonna carry these guys inside. Can you help me get their things too?”
Memory transcript subject: Halsc, Student of Hazziare Academy, Art History Major
Date [Standardized human time]: October 10th, 2136
As soon as I heard the rumors I started doing some of my own research. Not only into the human acquisition of Soursap, but into all their examples of art from the data dump. Not the best choice for my mental state.
I collapsed into my dorm bed and started sobbing after opening up the first packet. I was working my mandibles raw, rubbing them together as I always do when I’m worked up. ‘Paintings’ was the subject I started with, grabbing a collection at random. Within those files I was presented with hundreds of examples of masterful works. A tiny glimpse into literally thousands of years of history and culture.
Even monsters are better than you.
I can’t even toss out that thought. It was right. I work so hard, my family spends so much money to get me here, and I just can’t compare! Everywhere I look I see these awe inspiring examples of how terrible of an artist I am all across the federation alone. And now I have to see that even the savages are greater artists!
I was hoping to open those packets and see something lackluster. See some proof that all this hard work was going somewhere. Proof that I was better than at least someone out there. Even with this drawing tablet, all these tools and digital tricks, centuries of federation tech, and my best works are still outshined by a bunch of primitives with fruit mash.
I may have been able to accept my mediocrity and just move on as an unimpressive history professor too, if it wasn’t for Nahlin. She is my passion, but there’s just no way someone like her could fall in love with me.
Initially I was just excited to not be the only tilfish in my class. Seeing her for the first time however? Nahlin made even the greatest works of Tal-Harun look like globs of senseless clay just by standing next to them. The glimmer of Caieldien’s glass sculptures seemed so dim when compared to the light in Nahlin’s eyes.
I was passionate before, but after speaking to her I buried myself in work. Whatever time wasn’t spent on classes I spent practicing. Creating endlessly, over and over every night. I wanted to impress her, or at least impart some small fraction of that beauty onto a screen or into stone, paint, graphite, metal, ANYTHING.
My room was a mess. I’m a mess.
Wasted material is littered everywhere. There isn’t a single surface not covered in expensive inks, pens, clay molding tools, chunks of stone, or some other thousand credit mistake.
All this and Nahlin will never notice me. Our lives will go on until the end of our studies and then the most wonderful woman I’ve ever met will just disappear forever.
That thought hurt enough to make me gasp. The simple idea of never sharing a life with her was so horrid that it was able to cut through my abdomen. It felt like my soul was being torn out. The migraine was pressing so hard on my mind I could feel it warping my brain matter. I tasted blood.
Oh, that’s just because I scraped my left mandible so hard I gave myself a cut. Quickly tending to myself I allowed my mind to wander freely.
That last cry session felt cathartic. I also felt an odd tinge of determination. Fear as well? That doesn’t quite fit. More like fear with certainty. Wish there was a word for that.
I had an idea. A horrid one. That human ‘Hobby’ store was advertising not only cheap art supplies, but tutoring. If those beasts could teach each other to make such wonderful things out of such low quality supplies then surely they would be able to teach a fool like me, right?
Of course it could just eat me.
I weighed my options, a life without Nahlin or no life at all. Why do both of those sound just the same?
Memory transcript subject: Obour, FTL Comms Technician, Cradle Refugee
Date [Standardized human time]: October 10th, 2136
I transferred all the way to this frozen rock to get away from those freaks and one of them follows me here.
Not literally, I doubt this one is stalking me in particular. Its presence still makes me furious. How it was able to get to this planet and why it was allowed to buy up property is well beyond me. Maybe it just ate the previous owner and the guild here are too scared to burn it down.
Useless bastards.
Solvin was useless, the federation was useless, even the exterminators here are apparently useless.
They all sat there and watched as the two blights fought each other over my homeworld. The Cradle was taken back from the auxur too! That should have been a glorious victory for the federation but instead it was the humans that did it. They took the Cradle twice.
They’re new to space travel too, this is humanity at their most vulnerable.
I wanted to hold hope that things were going to get better, that we had a chance to fight back against those disgusting things. The sad reality is, we’ve barely been holding back against the auxur alone. With a second, even more capable predator species running loose we’re done for.
I wanted to call out those pred loving creeps for what they are but after what I saw, I understand. I’m not going to dress up in those rainbow colored ‘socks’ any time soon but I get it. By the protector they actually got the idea faster than most of us! They knew right from the start how doomed we are.
Maybe they’ll get preferential treatment for their loyalty.
I can’t even bring myself to care at this point. I just feel tired. When I do find my strength I just get angry. I want to get rid of those damned monsters. Call me a predator for it but I want to hurt them! Not that it would change anything. I saw how they fought. They’d tear me apart.
I’ll just … bide my time here I think. Pinwood is a nice enough place, despite the company. FTL comms technicians are in high demand now that the federation networks are in total disarray and the humans are trying to build up their own. Those scum even have all sorts of modifications to the system for durability and security improvements.
If humanity is going to take over, I might as well earn their favor, save some money, and hope that they’ll leave me alone for my service. The UN has been cooperative enough I suppose. After all, they were quick to approve my refugee transfer to Colia.
When I got here they even had options for getting a real home rather than being stuffed into another one of those camps. One option had me taking in a roommate on some PD reintegration program. Any other point in my life I would have refused, but now? The predators are marching in already, what’s a half-pred compared to the things that destroyed my home?
That’s something I can manage. I’ve survived the raids, so I can handle a disturbed Duerten.
The process of moving in was stressful despite my own confidence in my strength. It’s been a few paws and I barely got to see Sysill at all. I’m not sure what sort of predator disease they have but they’re the most skittish person I’ve ever met. It feels like they’re stalking me but at the same time if I even raise my voice a little bit they either run off or start tearing up.
Could have had a worse roommate though. They at least keep the place clean. The peace and quiet is nice too.
This paw though, they finally initiated a conversation with me. I was stunned when I saw who the notification came from.
“Hello Obour. I know that we aren’t really friends or anything but I need a favor. Really really sorry if this is too much to ask so just don’t be afraid to say no. But I need help with something kinda important. There’s this place that opened up and part of my reintegration is getting a job so I want to apply there but it’s really hard too. Not literally difficult i just need to go in there and give them my resume but its hard for me. The store owners are really scary and I keep trying to go into the store but I can’t. Can you come over to the old still and help me out? Again, don’t feel like you need to do this. I can figure something out if you dont want to. Thanks.”
Well. They’re more of a mess than I thought they were.
“No worries Sysill. I’ll be there.”
This may be the one rare chance I get to talk to this kid and figure out what’s going on with them. Besides, I’m not doing anything right now. Might as well take the chance to explore town a bit. It’s not like it’ll take long to hand over a job application