Chapter 12: Chapter Twelve

The human ability to deal with stress is so very unique in the galaxy that I would be negligent not to cover it. I couldn’t help but think about it when watching Rebecca work, her feet seemed to dance over the floor with light, airy steps, she was what you might call a ‘morning person’. While it is true most humans are not nocturnal, the variability of homo sapiens is such that their rhythms are unpredictable from person to person until you know them, and even that might change with time as they get older.

But no matter their rhythms, their ability to normalize the abnormal has made them the hardiest of species that I know of. A dlamisa like myself will start losing fur in a relatively short period of time, we shake and tremble, we pant, and flee if stress goes on too long.

But a human’s response to stress, while similar to ours at first, simply normalizes it. See figure eight-seven to see the human female in her dress and cosmetics walking casually past a gun wielding soldier in an ancient clash in a place called ‘Northern Ireland’. She neither winces, hides, or displays any fear characteristics. The fighting between the two groups was routine, and she was set on getting to where she was going. Can you name any race that would walk through a battlefield in a war… to shop? I lived among one such race, humanity. This propensity to normalize horror is also one of the reasons why they are sometimes perceived to have an absurdly high tolerance for risk and are seen to engage in so many reckless behaviors.

But with that, they also had a way of easing stress. Rebecca’s light and airy motions, the way she moved from task to task, humming a little tune while she opened the cooling box and to bring out meat and put together another meal for me was as effortless and graceful as a dancer. If giving me something to eat was any bother at all, she gave no sign of it.

And while she worked, she talked. Humans like to do that, I’m sure you noticed. “What’s your home like?” She asked. “Do you miss it?” She asked. “Do you have family there? Will they send video relays? What kind of things did you do there?”

She peppered me with so many questions, but I want to call your attention to this. All her questions were about me. About my life and my home. Humans have an expression that they sometimes use ironically, and sometimes not, and that is, ‘You are always the most interesting subject to yourself.’ They also refer to it as ‘Main Character Syndrome’ wherein a person believes themselves to be everybody’s focus. Therefore it is fairly common for the more selfish and self interested humans to only talk about themselves, their work, their projects, their lives.

But when a human cares about you, or wants to make you comfortable, they want to know you, and they don’t make it about themselves… Rebecca asked about me because she was showing care and concern for me. My hunger distress affected her, and she, this woman from another race who I had never met at all before one day ago, cared enough about me to try to comfort me by asking things she thought would make me happy, while also giving me food from her own home, and calling it mine.

Imagine if all the galaxy’s races treated each other as I was treated in that one kitchen with a near total stranger?! What could we be? What could we do?! What improvement in our way of life would we find if every stranger was treated like that!

It was happening faster than I knew, that is… understanding what my professor meant in a profoundly personal way. My tail wagged and spirits picked up, and when she set the sandwich and its plate in front of me, she didn’t sit right away. Instead she went to the pot and said, “Oh, I guess Fauve already made some. Would you like a cup, Bailey?” She asked me while reaching up into the cabinet to grab one for herself.

“Yes, please.” I said, using my very best manners.

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“Coming right up.” She said while pouring one of her own, “Such a good girl, very considerate.” There was a note of pride in her voice and a little smile I could see just barely peeking out from the side of her face, and that was when I realized something else.

Fauve had deliberately made something she knew she wouldn’t likely get to enjoy for herself, they were all coffee drinkers, except for little Michael. I cannot emphasize enough how significant this is.

It was the spirit of generosity defined. Doing something that will benefit someone else, even if it will not also benefit you. Without even thinking about it, as near as I could see, Fauve had made something for her family just because she’d been awake and there to do it, even though she would be back asleep and the pot would be drained. Perhaps she relied on someone else making another pot, but this reciprocity between family members and unthinking, casual generosity defined the human family with whom I stayed.

A moment later Rebecca placed a cup for me beside the plate on which I now had only crumbs, I had wolfed down my sandwich in a few bites, and was licking the plate clean to savor every nutrient, and the questions began again.

“Are you comfortable in your room? What would you like to start with today? Do you have any questions for me before the others get up?” Again, my host made me her focus. I had seen servant classes in other species, but I had never seen those who were not servants take it as a principle that they should act as such. I must levy caution to anyone who travels to Earth, never mistake your host’s acts of service toward you to be subordination, they are not your servants, they act well toward you to smooth bonding and become comrades, friends, and display their dignity and self respect. To give as they would wish to be given to.

If you abuse their kindness, you will find yourself without their company.

For the moment though, I was simply deeply moved by her concern for my wellbeing and my previously obvious stress, and without thinking, I lowered my head toward her. In dlamisa culture this is a sign of submission or gratitude, but the human took it very differently.

Her hand went up and rested on my head between my ears, and she began to rub and scratch, and each of my hearts skipped their beats with the warmth of her touch. I didn’t ask her to remove her hand, if anything I leaned into it all the more and while my stress turned contentedness now began to turn into happiness, I explained what I wanted to see on my first full day on Earth.

I wanted to see something called an ‘amusement park’.
And that is a story that would lead to events I never even dreamed possible even in my wildest nightmares or in a deep, dark well filled with all my deepest fears.

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