Chapter 6: When in Rome

Steven focused on work for a few hours, Yemi’s tutoring helping him navigate the file system. Soon, he might be able to help manage the various projects that the flock was juggling. It wasn’t that he was better at planning than they were, or that he had a better memory, but he could immediately see how just having someone to help coordinate them and handle the more mundane tasks would increase their productivity. Every minute they weren’t dealing with inane emails or taking calls from clients was another minute they were making progress on their work.

The time flew by until Ipal rose from her seat, stretching her limbs and her sheaths.

“Time for lunch,” she declared, glancing over at Paza. “That means you too, Paza. Your algorithms will be here when you get back.”

“Very well,” Paza muttered as she finished up and closed down the window with a swipe.

“I’d be happy to fetch you guys some food from the vending machines,” Steven said as he produced his phone, preparing to take their orders like a waiter. “What’ll it be?”

“No vending machines today,” Ipal replied, pausing to chatter with her friends in their native language for a few moments.

“Agreed,” Mima said with a flash of green. “Steven has expressed an interest in Val’ba’ra’nay cuisine, and he deserves a little indulgence after his performance with resource allocation.”

“We have time to visit a nearby restaurant,” Ezi added, giving him a smile that was framed by another display of emerald. “What do you say?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he replied hesitantly as he reached up to rub his neck. “Is it a fancy place? I don’t want to blow through my funds too quickly.”

“We’re buying,” Ipal replied with an insistent flutter of red from her sheaths. “It’s supposed to be a reward.”

“Yeah, alright,” he conceded. “As long as we have time.”

They headed out through the office, passing by Yemi’s desk on their way past the lobby.

“We’re going out for lunch,” Steven said as the male looked up from his monitor. “I’ll see you this afternoon for another lesson?”

“Very well, I will see you then,” Yemi replied.

“Don’t you want to come with us, Yemi?” Ezi asked as she paused to lean on his desk. He turned his eyes to his work quickly, avoiding her gaze with a ripple of pink. “There’s room for one more, and we’re buying.”

“No, thank you,’ he mumbled. “I have work to do.”

“Over your lunch break?” Mima asked with her usual concern. “You must not work yourself so hard, Yemi. You need time to relax.”

“Yeah, you don’t need to prove yourself,” Ezi continued. “There aren’t many males with your responsibilities.”

“Sounds like he doesn’t want to come,” Steven said, Yemi giving him a grateful flush of green. “We’ll see you later, Yemi.”

The girls filed out behind Steven and made their way down the corridor towards the elevator, chatting as they went. They never seemed to stop talking.

“He needs to get out more,” Ezi complained as she bobbed along beside Steven. “He’s as bad as Paza – staying cooped up in that office all day. It’s like he doesn’t even want to socialize with the rest of the staff.”

“Yemi does have a lot of work on his plate, especially for a male,” Mima added with a more sympathetic tone. “The poor boy practically takes on the duties of an entire flock all by himself.”

“How much free time can he possibly have?” Ipal muttered. “It must take him an hour to wax his scales and paint his eyes before he even shows up for work, and he’s always here before we are. When he gets home, there are no wives to help him with cooking and chores.”

“First to arrive and last to leave,” Ezi sighed. “Little thing is gonna work himself to death. Fuck, why does he have to play so hard to get all the time? What he needs is some good herb and an eager flock to take his mind off his damned job for a few hours.”

“Yemi doesn’t seem all that interested to me,” Steven added, the aliens turning their heads to peer up at him. “Maybe he just wants to be left alone?”

“I think he’s just shy,” Mima replied. “A lot of males are.”

“They usually want a flock to approach them and declare their interest,” Ezi explained as they stopped by the elevator doors, flicking out a sheath to hit the call button like it was a tentacle. “Every guy plays a little hard to get so as not to appear too keen.”

“I just wish he’d take things a little easier before all of those beautiful feathers start falling out from the stress of it all,” Mima sighed.

“He won’t be that young and pretty forever,” Ipal added, the twin doors sliding open. “If he keeps rejecting every flock that makes a pass at him, he’s going to end up in a situation where he doesn’t have the luxury of taking his pick anymore.”

“What’s wrong?” Tilli asked, noting that Steven was hesitant to board the elevator. She was the quietest of the bunch, and she seemed the most perceptive.

“N-nothing,” he muttered, eyeing the car warily. “I just ... don’t like these things very much.”

“He’s scared!” Ezi giggled with a flush of yellow.

“Come here,” Mima cooed. She reached out to wrap her sheath around his forearm, the strange appendage coiling like a snake, drawing his hand into hers. Like Yemi, her scales were smooth and cool to the touch, her downy proto-feathers ending near her wrist. She guided him into the car, surprisingly strong for her size, the flock surrounding him in a protective bubble. “Now, what about it frightens you?”

“I told you, I’m not scared,” he grumbled as his cheeks began to warm with embarrassment. “I just find the way that it becomes transparent kind of ... unnerving. I grew up in tunnels – I’m not used to heights yet.”

“You’re safe with us,” Mima insisted, keeping a tight hold on his hand.

He wanted to tell her that he didn’t need her to literally hold his hand, and that he wasn’t afraid – he was just getting used to the ride, but he couldn’t think of a way to phrase it that didn’t sound needlessly rude.

The car began to descend, and he put on his most stoic face as the walls became see-through, the effort only seeming to amuse Ezi more.

It was a short ride to the bottom, and they stepped out into the lobby, Mima finally releasing Steven’s hand. They headed out of the main doors and into the street, the aliens watching curiously as Steven produced the sunglasses that Joseph had given him, flipping them open dramatically.

“What?” he asked. “The sunlight hurts my eyes.”

“Come on, you big baby,” Ezi giggled as the flock headed over to a row of two dozen scooters. Like the ones Steven had seen near the train stations, they were covered over with a glass awning to protect them from the elements. The girls scanned their devices, and the scooters unlocked, the flock mounting up like some kind of eco-friendly biker gang.

“What about Steven?” Tilli asked, the flock looking back at him.

“I could ride one, I think,” he mused as he examined the strange vehicles. The footrest was just slightly too small, and he’d have to crouch a little to reach the handlebars. It would be a little like riding a scooter meant for a child. “You know, I’ve never seen these things go all that fast. If you can limit the speed a little, I should be able to just walk along with you.”

“Are you sure?” Ipal asked, sharing a skeptical glance with her friends. “The restaurant we’re going to is almost a kilometer away.”

“No problem,” he replied. “I walked much further than that on my first day here.”

“Really?” Ipal asked with a flutter of yellow. “If you say so.”

“Try to keep up, Earth’nay!” Ezi said as the group pulled out into the road.

He had never seen the scooters go much faster than a jog, and with the flock reducing their speed, he was able to match pace at a brisk walk. The vehicles seemed to be gyroscopically stabilized because they remained upright even at lower speeds. Joseph had told him that the aliens didn’t like to walk long distances, but the flock doubting Steven’s ability to cover a kilometer on foot was something else.

It must have been an unusual sight, a few other riders and pedestrians giving them odd looks as they passed. Steven was amused to spot a couple of little automated shopping carts on their way home, which seemed to be the only road traffic save for the scooters. After a couple of hundred meters, Ipal turned to glance at him as she rode along beside him, her voice joined by the electrical hum of the motor.

“Well, look at you go. You’re keeping up with a scooter, and you’re not even tired. I’d heard that Earth’nay had a lot of stamina, but this is impressive.”

“A Valbara’nay wouldn’t be able to walk this distance?” he asked.

“Not while keeping up with a vehicle,” she replied. “Without a scooter, a two-kilometer round trip would have us very worn out.”

“I suppose from your perspective, it’s like I’m keeping pace with a car on a ten-kilometer drive,” he chuckled. “This is good cardio, honestly. I was stuck on that damned ship for months without any room to stretch my legs.”

“I can see how stretching those would require a lot of room,” Ezi said with a flutter of yellow. “I kind of want to see how fast you can go, but I don’t want to wear you out before your meal.”

“I could go a little faster,” he replied, accelerating to a slow jog. “It’s hot and humid, though, and I’m not exactly dressed appropriately. This suit would have me soaking in sweat by the time we arrived.”

“Sweat?” Tilli repeated, seeming confused. “What is sweat, and why would you be soaking in it?”

“You guys aren’t mammals,” he replied, starting to breathe more heavily. “It never occurred to me that you wouldn’t sweat. Sweat is how we regulate our body temperature. Our skin is covered in pores that secrete a substance mostly made of water and salt. It evaporates to help cool us down.”

“A form of biological evaporation cooling,” Paza mused, seeming genuinely intrigued for the first time since he had met her. “We’ve designed software that regulates evaporative coolers in municipal buildings.”

“I have one built-in,” he replied, tapping a fist to his chest. “I’m gonna need it, too. Kalahar is a little hotter and wetter than I’m comfortable with. I suppose that’s what I get for growing up in an environment with an artificial climate. We didn’t exactly have seasons or weather back home.”

“This climate keeps our scales moist and helps us regulate our core temperatures,” Paza explained. “We are endotherms, though we still require favorable environmental conditions. I imagine that your species could tolerate a wider range of extremes than we can.”

“That’s like Mima and her feathers,” he mused. “An adaptation to cold climates. Do you have trouble living here, Mima? Do you get too hot?”

“Not particularly,” she replied. “My feathers can fluff up or compress depending on my environment. It allows me to alter the insulating air layer that they trap against my scales.”

“When she gets cold, she goes all puffy,” Ezi snickered.

“I just dress a little more sparsely than my flock,” Mima continued. “I do generally prefer cooler temperatures, but it isn’t something that causes problems.”

“The only problem is keeping her clean,” Ipal added. “You should see how much shampoo we go through in a rotation.”

It didn’t take more than ten minutes for them to arrive at the restaurant, the girls stowing their scooters in a matching rack outside the establishment as Steven took a moment to catch his breath. He had taken off his jacket by that point and had slung it over his shoulder, as the heat and humidity had him breaking a sweat.

He looked up at the neon sign above the entrance – its glow dulled by his glasses and the midday sun – but he couldn’t make anything of the squiggles. What he could pick up were the scents of cooking food wafting out of the doors.

The flock led him inside, and he found himself standing in the lobby of a restaurant. He was so used to sterile white environments with a few planters to break up the monotony that the sight of wood grain genuinely surprised him. The ceiling above his head was crisscrossed with exposed beams, while the floor was covered over with varnished planks, giving it a very rustic and homely feel.

“It’s not real wood,” Tilli whispered to him, noticing his wide eyes. “It’s just polymer made to look like wood.”

The Valbarans probably had some ecological objection to cutting down trees, but to Steven, wood was a precious material that was commonly used as a show of opulence. Having a mahogany desk or an oak chair on Ganymede meant that it had been imported from Earth at immense cost and for no practical purpose other than as a display of wealth.

There was a male staffing the front desk who greeted them with a flash of vibrant plumage. Like Yemi, he was dressed a little more formally than the girls, his face adorned with blue paint that framed his eyes and a jeweled pendant that came down over his forehead. He spared Steven a glance, then began to speak with Ipal in their native tongue, directing the party inside with a wave of his arm feathers.

Rather than tables and chairs, the restaurant’s walls were lined with enclosed booths that afforded their occupants a little more privacy, somewhat akin to the fast food places that Steven had visited in Memphis. Along with the warm brown and beige of the faux wood décor, the padding on the seats was all dark green leather – likely another facsimile based on what he knew about Valbarans. The place was lit by hanging lamps that gave off a warm, yellow glow, and the windows that looked out onto the street were tinted to further that cozy feel.

The flock slid into their booth, Steven following behind them. It clearly hadn’t been designed with humans in mind, but while the seats were quite low, they were fairly deep to account for the Valbarans’ tails. Rather than try to squeeze his legs beneath the table, he elected to cross them instead.

“Is that comfortable for you?” Ipal chuckled.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” he replied as he glanced around the room. Just like in the office, he was tall enough to see over the tops of the dividers that separated the booths, giving him a good view of his surroundings. The restaurant looked like it could accommodate maybe thirty flocks, and a good deal of the booths were occupied, a low murmur of conversation joined by the clinking of glasses and cutlery emanating from the other guests.

“This place is great,” Ezi said, leaning across the table in front of him. “We come here all the time.”

“What’s it styled after?” Steven asked. “I haven’t seen this kind of interior design anywhere else.”

“It’s supposed to look a little dated,” Mima explained. “There was a time when our dwellings were made from wood and stone rather than carbcrete and glass.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Steven replied. “Were they still dome-shaped?”

“No,” she replied with a smile and a flash of green. “Those are a more recent invention. They’re very efficient when it comes to cooling and energy consumption. Very durable, too. During the era of our history when our species began working copper and iron, and we began founding larger settlements, city walls were mostly made from wood and carved stone blocks. Most houses were of timber construction. This restaurant represents a later style, but it still calls back to a simpler era. I find it quite charming.”

“Sounds similar to human history,” Steven replied. “Even on Ganymede, there are some themed restaurants in the domes that are decorated to resemble old taverns and pubs. Sorry, I meant Earth’nay history. Why the walls, by the way? I don’t think I’ve asked yet.”

“In modern times, the walls serve several important functions,” Paza replied. “Weather and migration pattern monitoring, spill gates for water processing, climate control.”

“And they keep out the megafauna,” Ezi added.

“Megafauna?” Steven repeated.

“Very large, very aggressive creatures that might like to make a meal of us,” Ezi said, giving him an amused flutter of yellow when she saw his shocked expression. “What’s the matter? Never seen a Teth’rak?”

“You know I haven’t.”

They were interrupted as their waiter arrived – another male with ornate eye paint and a dangling chain around his forehead introducing himself with a red flash, the subtle iridescence of his vibrant feathers catching the light. He spoke in English, presumably for Steven’s benefit.

“Welcome, guests. How might I serve you today?”

“A meal for six, please,” Ipal replied.

The male waved a hand in the direction of their table, a holographic display in the form of a cylinder appearing to hover above its polished surface, rotating slowly in the air.

“We have several menus to choose from today. Please signal when you’ve reached consensus, and I will return to take your order.”

The male bobbed away again, leaving Steven to watch the floating text. The more time he spent in Kalahar, the more he noticed the prevalence of males in service positions. Secretaries, greeters, waiters – they seemed skewed towards public-facing jobs that required a lot of social interaction. Maybe they were especially suited to those roles, or maybe it was just where the females wanted them. Steven wasn’t exempt, and the flock hadn’t exactly been coy about the company’s reasons for hiring him, which were as much about appearances as expertise.

“What’s on the menu?” Steven asked. “I can’t read Valbaran yet. I doubt I’ll ever be able to.”

“We’ll order for you,” Mima insisted, the flock sharing a brief exchange in their rapid-fire language of chirps and trills. When they had come to a decision, Ipal closed down the hologram, which seemed to signal to the waiter that they were ready to order. He returned quickly and memorized their requests, having no need to note anything down.

“You were talking about megafauna?” Steven asked once the waiter had left.

“Show him,” Ezi said eagerly as she looked to Ipal, who was closer. Ipal produced her phone, and with a few taps, she was showing him a video recording on its screen.

Steven watched a herd of bird-like aliens with long legs and necks grazing on a blue-green savanna, their bodies covered in brown feathers with white tips. They seemed to be flightless, their wings atrophied to give them the appearance of an ostrich with a long, reptilian tail.

“What are those?” Steven asked, leaning closer to get a better look at the small display.

“A herd of gue’tra,” Ipal explained. “They’re herbivores that live in flocks. We hunt them seasonally for meat.”

“Shit, I think I bought some gue’tra meat when I went shopping,” he mused. “I had no idea they looked like that.”

As the video continued to play, there was movement from a nearby cluster of alien trees, as though something large was shaking their branches. A few of the gue’tra lifted their long, flexible necks from the grass to glance around, their large eyes staring dumbly.

Moments later, what looked like a fireball exploded from the thicket, snapping the trunks of the trees like twigs and kicking up great clods of earth. The fiery orange shaped barreled towards the herd of gue’tra, and like a shoal of fish being disturbed by a shark, they formed a seething mass as they bolted. They were incredibly light on their feet, moving as one organism, juking and dodging to escape their pursuer.