Chapter 8: Chapter Eight

“Would you like me to roll down the window, Bailey? William’s question struck me as odd, because I was thinking exactly that as I watched the cars pass by, humans didn’t use hover cars for city driving, they were considered far too dangerous. Instead they were confined to combat equipment, wilderness riding, and ships where instashield security was available.

But riding in this car with William, Rebecca, and Michael, I was reminded of my time in the hovercar on the ship we were on oh so briefly, and the wild ride I had that was supremely enjoyable. The question he asked was so unexpected that for a moment I thought I had missed some indication that humans were mind readers.

I dismissed that of course, and immediately replied, “Yes!”

“Told you.” He said to Rebecca in the front passenger seat, though what it was he told her, I never knew.

I mostly forgot anyway as he hit the button and the window disappeared, I stuck my head out, opened my mouth, and felt my ears blow back, and it was wonderful. The blast of cool wind hit me full in the face and I was thrilled beyond measure. So much so that I let out a cry of utter happiness. It felt so good that as soon as I was able to do so, I sent a dispatch home telling the engineers that they should disable the inertial nullification device that made all vehicles appear to be stationary despite being in motion, and increase the speed limit by double its then current standard in order to improve the quality of life for our entire species. They named it ‘Bailey’s law’ after me, when after substantial testing, they found that it was absolutely marvelous.

I held my head out the window the entire way, and completely forgot all of the conversational interviews I had planned before I arrived. My hearts pounded in sync in my chest, and it was all I could do to keep from fainting from happiness. The sun warmed my fur, not pounding the earth like the hammer of a desert sun on Danick Prime or avoiding the world like the tiny dot of a sun seemed to on the dwarf planet of the human’s Plutonian colony. This truly was the ‘sweet spot’ of their solar system.

But all good things must come to an end, it is an unending truth of life, even for the long lived, and my first ride in a human car with my hosts came to a close thirty of their minutes later when we pulled in front of a small two story home. I should note that the houses were split only by a few paces, and where some houses had one occupant, others had two, three, or even six or more. Made of a mix of rough cut stone and wood, I had a good idea of human middle class neighborhoods before, but the experience was something else.

Almost every home had a garden visible from the front door, and each front door had a front porch. It seemed useless at first, see figure six five for examples. It wasn’t refrigerated, so you couldn’t store food there, it had no defenses, and wasn’t large enough to live on, not based on what I knew of humans at least. But it did have something else.

A swing. A wide bench suspended by a pair of chains and painted a bright shade of red, it swayed back and forth in the breeze. Two smaller seats made of woven wood and with thick green cushions sat beside one another looking out, and a small table sat where each of the occupants of those seats could reach it. Something about it all… I don’t know what it was, but it was just so damn… inviting. It screamed ‘Come and sit.’ and I felt instantly drawn to it. Like a Slytharian raptor’s prey summoning call.

“Do you like the porch swing?” William asked when he saw me staring at it. “I made that, you know.” He confided and wore a smug grin on his face, and I could only nod.

“It looks… great.” I wasn’t quite sure how to praise it because I didn’t understand why I liked it so, it was just wooden planks pieced together, but maybe it was the whole scene? I would have to experience more to know for sure.

“Rebecca, would you be a love and put on some coffee.” William asked as she got their child out of the back seat. “My back is still sore from finishing up the room this morning and I could do with a few minutes off my feet.”

“Of course.” She said, “I’ll just put Michael down and see if Fauve is feeling better. It’ll be just a few minutes.”

“That’s fine, thanks much.” William said and putting his hand in the middle of my back, he gestured to the porch, “Come on, have a seat.” He offered.

I must admit, you may have expected me to tell you immediately what the porch was for, and I held it back to let this all play out in sequence, but now we come to the moment, and it was shockingly simple. We climbed the handful of stone steps up to the stone porch, he waved me to the gently swaying swing and I sat down, the force of my seating myself immediately made it rock a little bit harder, and with the light breeze in the air, it proved to be easily one of the simplest delights I’ve ever experienced. Who knew? Nobody in my homeworld, it seemed. Or if anyone did, they kept that secret to themselves.

William sat down with a groan and spread his arms out over the back of his woven long seat, a thing they call ‘sofas’ or ‘couches’, and crossed one leg over the other. Just then a man of coal dark skin and a curious kind of fur on the top of his head, far more ‘solid like’ I suppose, than Williams wavy straight hair, exited a car that pulled in across the street.

“Hey Tuna!” William waved, and the fishman… or so I immediately thought of him, given what he’d just been called, stopped and waved back. The shouted greeting was answered less than immediately, as the Tuna man approached the house, it wasn’t until he reached the middle of the stairs that he answered back and said…

“Willy… you got a dog… no…?” He blinked his dark amber eyes when he looked me up and down, and I shook my head.

“I’m not a dog. I’m a Dlamisa. Are you a… land fish?” I asked and cocked my head, “Where is your tail? Do fish here have legs?”

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The tuna person snapped his fingers and gave his head a rapid shake as if waking himself up out of a dream. “Oh, right, the alien you told me about!” He addressed William, and when William gestured to another seat, ‘Tuna’ sat down.

“No, he is not a fish or a tuna, that is his nickname.” William corrected me. “His last name is Latunde, he’s from Nigeria, not the Pacific ocean, and we served together in Germany when I was in the service.”

“So… you are not a fish, and your profession is nickname? What does that do? Do you give names to human offspring?” I asked, and the dark skinned man who… was evidently not a fish after all, looked at me and scratched his head.

“Man, is he serious? No, course he is, he’s an alien… duh.” The one called Latunde answered his own question, and I scratched my ears and cocked my head at him. It seemed to make William and the other two happy when I did that, and it appeared to work just as well on the newcomer as he broke into a toothy grin.

“No, ‘a ‘nickname’ is what friends call each other, my ‘first’ name is Mark. I got the nickname ‘Tuna’ back in the service, because we all went by last names, and my friends just ‘shortened it’. Better than the guy named Douche… hey, Willy, remember Douche?” Mark Latunde laughed and his arm darted out and the back of his hand struck William’s bicep, the grin on William’s face grew wider…

I have to pause to explain something here about what I learned from this short interaction. Porches are for socializing, that is their purpose. They are an invitation to come and sit, and all are designed to look welcoming. They are a physical expression of the human need to form bonds, to add to one of their greatest strengths.

The other thing I must add, is that humans who live to their middle years, love to reminisce, their memories, especially those shared with friends, become treasures. If you offered a man money for his fondest memories, he would live under a bridge in poverty and want before he would give them up. They are storytellers, and spend their lives creating the tales they will tell. This ties back into their love of metaphor and symbolism, every story becomes an example, either to live up to, or to take heed of as a warning. I listened while they told each other things they each already knew about things that had come and gone many years before… apparently copious amounts of alcohol were involved…

Along with dancing… and a man not quite ready for manhood, along with a woman… to be frank, it involved much of the late adolescent male activities and these would be an entire thesis by themselves. Apparently males of a particular age are prone to competitiveness that does not always leave one’s dignity intact.

The two finally stopped their rapid chattering when Rebecca reemerged holding a tray with four cups made of glass sitting on it, from out of the cups rose a thick steam that had all eight of my ears pricking up at attention and I leaned forward to inhale it as deeply as I could.

“What is that wonderful smell?” I asked, and Rebecca set the tray down on the table, while she passed out the cups, she answered me.

“It’s called ‘coffee’ and it is marvelous. We use it to stay alive.” Rebecca answered as Mark and William gratefully offered thanks and accepted their cups with deep inhales of the aroma that were as enthusiastic as my own.

“You’ll die without this? Should I really have some?” I asked and stared down at the substance that smelled like liquified paradise.

“No, not really, but you will feel more alive.” Rebecca answered and took her seat beside William, leaning her side against his.

“Oh and by the way, I run the big pet store down the road, so… if you need to bulk buy any food, I’m your guy.” Mark said with a smirk while he looked at me.

“Well I’ve had most of the planet’s main food supply analyzed, I can’t eat your grapes or chocolate, but there are a lot of things I can eat, so I’ll try anything once. I didn’t come here just to sit around.” I replied and when they all took deep sips of their coffee, I imitated them all.

I will never forget how it tasted, nor how it felt to sit with them all. Mark, apparently an old friend of the family as I’ve now explained, would prove just ‘why’ he was one when hard times came, and I learned a lot about humanity from him.

Not all the days ahead would be perfect, the human experience is a mixed one, but you can learn a lot about a people, about a person, by how they handle their darkest days, and a lot about yourself, by how you handle those who endure those times. I know I did, at least. I conclude my talk of their little porch in that little neighborhood on that little bit of dust in the sun that was their world, by saying that it was delightful. From the coffee to the confusions, to a casual first introduction to yet another person I would soon call a very good friend, I had fun, and if you listen to most humans, that’s the point of it all.

Whether you agree with me or not right now, I cannot even begin to guess. But save your judgment till the end, as there is a human lifetime still to tell, and it would take ten lifetimes of even my vast years, to tell it all.

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