Chapter 1: Entry 1 [In which I make a deal with a human]

Resurrection Log: Ź̷̼͖ý̶̧̡̩̫͉͔͇̓̈́̋̎̽̌͐͛̈́̎̒́̐̍͠r̴̢͓̖̲͙̲̮͋̉̓̾͒̑͜͠ͅa̵̡̨̦͍͉̳͎͕̞͔̲̺̰̩̩̽͑̆̈̌́̏͝g̵̼͈̟̗͔͋́̈́̀͆̀̚ą̸̯̽̈́̑͒͑́ṙ̷͙̝̥͔̳̜̗͖̦͉͓͕͗̈́̇̇͂̐̍̒̍̔d̸͇̞̥͓̠̈́͒͋̌̐͝ ̶̨̧̛͔̲̻̖͚̠̣͔̻̰̫̒̇͐͜͠T̴̠͓͔̦̩̻̼̖̽͆̍͆̓̊̽̔̚͠ơ̷̶̵̸̸̸̡̛̛̬̖̰̦̦̮͚̗̞̻̻̞̻̙̘̘͈͈̭̲͙̪͍̭̭͉͚̤̅̾̽͋̀̑̋̆̍̉̇̉̈́̿͋͒̇̊̓̂̿̿̑̈́͆͑͌̂̌̑̆̉͘̚͜͜͝͝͝͝͠ţ̷̢̢̛͙̩͎̥͈̝̖̈̄͛̄͊̆̓̈́̊ͅͅȩ̸̠͍̱̖̺̣̖̄̉̔͜ņ̷̡͓̘̥̠̖̝̺͈̥͔̲͊k̴̛̯̫̪͑̽̔́̅͂̿̂͋̉̂̕͘͠y̵̟̟̰̪̻̼̖̌̽̇̓́̍̃͒̾̕̚͝͠r̵̢̨̠͉̼̲̲͛͒̂̽̄͐͌̏͘͘͝a̴̛̰̙̫͂͐̓̐ḿ̷̡̛̤͙͕̼̱̻͙̔͌̓̈̏͑̔̈́̓͘̚ą̸̧̧̯̺̫͈̞͎̻̤̫̂͐̐͘ņ̷̨̱̖̟͖͚̣̂͌͗̌̾̔́̕ ̶̨̨̲̘̭͚̣̝̞̲͔̦̽̾̏̄̒́̚͝K̷̖̻̘̣͐̽̀̅͛͜͜͜ṟ̴̛͇̺͈̲͉̤̰̰̥͉͓̜͑̈́͌̔̍̓́̕ą̷̼̄̾͊̓̽̾͊̈̒̍̍́̉̚͝l̸̨̞͇͈̖͔̘̜̱̦͈̊

Year 76,589 of the —Mother of Ruin—

M:6 D:12

Day 968 of  Cycle 3

[transcribed memory/thoughtstream generated by Ṁ̵̢̘̭̬̙̘̦̳͓̺͈̪̒̂ǫ̵̨̛̠̫̻̐̋̓͗͗͗̏̎͂̿͌̕t̴̜̪͇͕͚́̓͐h̴̯͍̼̦̯̝̜̝̤͂͋͆͌͗͝ę̸͉͖͕̜̤̘͙͎͚̈́̏͒̒̄̏̃̋͘̕͘͜ȓ̸̢̨͍͉̱̮̞͔̋̇ ̴̡̛̱̳̘̠͎̫̩̪̦̠̦̣̀͒͛͊̚͠G̷̰̹̝͆̈͜į̸̧̟͙̰͖̳̯̈́̒͜͜g̶͉̗̹̻̟̰̞̭̠͉͙̈́͊̌̈̈̓̐̒̕ạ̵̧̧̘͖͔̟̝̳̅̇̂̂̅̓̇͛̓͋̊̏̇̕t̵̮̉͒̋̄̑̇̌̀̅͑̋͋r̶̻̟͗̋̀̆̿̃̔̄͒̎̊̈́̚o̵̪̦͇̫̾̋̊̾̋͗͗̊͊̄͜͠͝ḡ̵̛̰͎̇̐͒͋̊̀͝ẗ̶̡̮̠͈̗̗̃͛̈̊̾ḩ̴͍̖͖̥͈̻̪̖̤̰̥̣̋͌̚ř̵̝̤̩͈͎̤͎̯̤͔̝̬̖̓̏͐̀̿̊̂̈͋̕͝͝ĭ̴̡̡͙̺̪͕̻̺̥̫̭̜̺̳̃̂͊̓́̅̈́̎̀̽̀̚ͅṃ̵̨͇̺̪̤̄͜ȧ̵͓̟͖̞̩̤͙̩̖̠̝̣̔ź̶̡͇͍̝̳͚̱͖̳͖̬͓̋̂͜ ̸̢̺͚̍̎̈́̂͛̂̐͐̊̕̚͜͝͝Ȉ̵̢̹̜̞͆̃͗̅̈́̋͒̅͝Í̶̡͓͓̰̥̤̗̱̀͛́͆̒͋̂͠͝I̴̟̞̪̯͍̟̿̂̐̌͑̎̅̋͐͆̍́]

 

I have never been good at interfacing with members of different species. Especially those of fixed and semi-fixed forms. The most challenging part, I always find, is devising an appearance which will not alarm them. One would think that recreating their own looks as closely as possible would be the clear answer, but no—that is a fledgling mistake, and one of the worst. Humans actually have a phrase for the resulting effect of such attempts. They call it uncanny valley, which of course, makes absolutely no sense when one considers the direct translation. 

Other species tend to be nonsensical. Each one a new puzzle. And so it was that I had managed to fail, again and again, at my directive. Which in turn is how I found myself at a grimy bar on a fantastically decrepit space station in a neglected corner of the galaxy, getting drunk with, of all things…a human. 

Notoriously insane, widely avoided…and willing to talk to a lowly young ̴̦͛̾͋̑̑̏̀̕Ş̸̨̙̼͈͓̜́͜͠t̷̞̍ā̶̢̛̙̦̯̫̔̄̋̏́͋͆͗͑̇͝ŗ̸̨̹̠̻̈́̓̽͌͘͘f̸̛̯̔͑̒̂̋̅̉̀̀͊̕͝l̷̨̢̹̞͉̪̫̺̥̤͙̘̟̪͒̍̐̽̐̿͋͊̊͂ͅu̶͎͈̩̰̤͙̠̻̘͚̦̭͛̈͐͒̐̓̎̽͊̕͜͜n̴̡̨̰̞̙̟̪̩̥͈̱̤̒̔̾͒g̶̬͕͉͚͍̤̱̠̳̖̟̳͔̮̒̀̏̊̃̏̽̀̃̐́́ͅ such as myself. 

She was speaking and drinking and eating, all through the same hole in her head. Gnashing her food up with the bones that jutted from the wet pink ridges inside her mouth, as they call it. It was very, very distracting. 

“What’s your name, by the way?” she queried between gnashing. The spheres in her head—above the mouth—rolled, the little circles of green with their black centers pointing at me. Eyes—primitive organs of sight. 

“You can neither perceive nor communicate it,” I informed her. “But the mouth-sound by which you may refer to me is Zyr.”

“Zeeeeuuuur,” she said, pressing her fleshy throat-appendage against her little white bones. Teeth. “Zeee-ir. I like it. Mine is Rin.”

“It is good to make your name. Ah, meet your acquaintance,” I told her, fumbling as I dredged my download of Interfacing With Homo Sapiens For Absolute Fools up through the slag of inebriation.

She made a sound called a laugh that was a little like gurgling, a lot like hyperventilating, and which also made me worry that some of her food may have caught in her air-hole.

It really is an unfortunate set-up they have, in regards to their breathing and eating and talking, yet they seem quite intent on keeping it. As I’ve said, they are insane.

 “And you want to rent space on my ship. Not to pay for passage anywhere…but to just exist on it.” She sloshed some more alchoholic swill down her face-hole.  “Doing…nothing?”

 “That is correct,” I affirmed. 

“And, uuuuuh…” Rin trailed off as she set her cup down, loudly.

Everything about the establishment was loud, actually. The decor, the people, the entertainment. Violently purple and yellow-green lumicells grew from the walls in wild patterns and flashed in even wilder ones. The other surfaces were scratched, greasy steel, mostly. The seats and perches and platforms all aged vat-leather that squealed and squeaked when anything sat on it. It smelled of various inebriants. In the passage of Rin’s silence, I reeled at the sensory chaos of it all. 

“Why exactly is that?”

“Hm? What? Oh, yes. Explanations.” 

Humans are curious, a credit to their species. One of few.

I considered. There were parts of the truth it was best I didn’t divulge, but I must provide just enough to sate her curiosity. If I’d been human, I may have just lied. They are very good at that. 

“It is my directive to see as much of the galaxy as I can until I reach the next stage of my life cycle. Absorb as much…information as possible. Your ship is diverse of both crew and function. You go wherever necessity takes you.”

The human raised one of the little ridges of fur above her eyes. Eye…bows? Brows. Eyebrows. Then she shook back the longer coils of hair that sprung from the crest and sides of her skull. They were a color that I found unfathomable. Metallic, but not. Warm in shade, but also cool. Neutral, and yet…strangely bright. Truly, a color from out of space.

[I learned later that this color is called rose gold. This lead me to learning what roses are. Among other things, they are lifeforms which are culturally significant to some humans as being romantic. I looked into that as well, and think I now have a thorough understanding of the concept. Out of tactile curiosity, I pulled up the genetic makeup of a species of rose and generated an approximation. It was sharp.]

“Guess I can’t argue that,” said Rin the human, closing her mouth and doing something strange with her tongue inside of it. I wondered if all of this seemingly random, useless movement might be similar to tentacle undulation. Soothing, a way to diffuse excess energy. Or maybe it was some sort of rude gesture.

Perhaps she’ll get angry at for me for not understanding, I fretted. Her eyeballs were pointing at me as I wavered there, trying and failing yet again to call up something useful from Homo Sapiens for Absolute Fools.

“I don’t suppose your kind uses credits?” She eyed me up and down.  

You are reading story These Eldritch Stars at novel35.com

 [If you’re doubting that phrase I just used, look it up! This species really says that. A few others do, too.]

“Of course.” Such a silly concept, credits. But an easy enough adaptation to make. “As I said. Cost will be no matter. Issue. Problem? I have already accepted your price and your terms.”

She scoffed. I like that word. I like the sound, too. Airy, simple. Quiet. 

“Alright, then. Uh, I guess we have a deal. Drink on it?”

A blurry infobit from Absolute Fools surfaced, triggered by her words.

“Suuure,” I said. The skin around her eyeballs half-closed, so that I could only see little strips of her eye-colors. A nudge from Fools seemed to suggest this was not a good thing. I wondered if I had said the word wrong, or perhaps the wrong word entirely. I moved on. 

Lifting my cup in one inoffensive tentacle, I extended it toward her.

She seemed to swallow, her body tensed in what I now know was a cringe. At the time, I thought perhaps she might be on the cusp of molting. 

She raised her receptacle in one of her strange appendages with its five little tentacles. I was reminded then that each of them was supported by segments of bone. Yes, even more bone. Humans are full of the stuff. And yet, if she noticed any of the distaste I did not manage to suppress, I couldn’t read sign of it in the obscure language of her body and face.

We bumped our receptacles together, and the human tossed the last of her liquids into her mouth. I raised my own up to nudge it against the vague approximation of a head that I place at the top of my body for such occasions. Of course, I sipped it through the tentacle. I do not care for face-holes. 

The human observed me as I siphoned my sugary intoxicants.

 “If you’re hoping to, er, integrate with the crew at all, you know—socialize—you might want to do something about that form.”

 “My…body?”

“Yeah,” she said. “You can change it at will, right?”

“It takes me some time to devise and implement alterations. An…” I had to pause to bring up the correct unit. “An…hour…or so? But this is the best form I have yet been able to devise for multi-species interface.”

Cursed alcohol. I had failed somewhat in generating the bodily alterations necessary to understand why some species enjoy poisoning themselves. Rin slammed her cup down and sniffed. She seemed to like doing that. Slamming her cup down, I mean. Sniffing too though, probably.

Leaving the receptacle on the sticky countertop, she steepled her hand-tentacles together.

Another fun word, steepled. In fact, thinking in words is fun in its entirety.

I’m glad to have taken it on. 

“I’m going to be honest with you, Zyr. It’s hideous.”

 “H—hideous?”

 She bobbed her head up and down. 

“Downright offputing. Probably even enough to disturb my crew. And that wouldn’t make for the best experience. For any of us.” She said all of this in a tone my downloads told me was rather grim. “Are you open to feedback?” 

“Certainly,” I said. “Please. What would be the ideal form for interfacing with your crew?” 

The human’s mouth split wide open, its edges curling upward. But the teeth stayed together. Flashing in the colorful glow of the lumicells. She summoned the autotender, refilled her cup, and drank quite a lot from it. Another cup-slam. The lights reflected rhythmically on the wetness of her eyeballs.

 “This will take longer than an hour,” she warned. 

“Very well,” I replied. “I do not care how much time passes, so long as I remain occupied.” 

“That’s goooood,” said Rin, doing the pointy thing with her bone-tenta—fingers again. She leant forward, closer to me. The skin of her eyeballs pulled far apart, so I could see both of the green circles in their entirety. I liked those. When she spoke again, she had dropped her voice to a low, airy hush.

“First of all,” she said. “You’re going to need pointy ears.”

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