Eavesdroppers

Much as I was looking forward to my next set of lessons, it appears they don’t happen every day. I figured they would be a new daily routine. But when I went looking for Kohric this morning, he told me there was too much work to be done, and lessons would be tomorrow.

I’m still not used to this society’s norms. Children are expected to work. Schooling is considered secondary to basic survival. And when I stop and use my head for half a second, it makes sense. I mean, D’Keda is supposedly a fairly well-off clan (at least all of D’Keda thinks so), but they still struggle to survive. Prey animals must be carefully managed to avoid over hunting, which means the clan hunters only go out every few days. And even when they do go out, it’s no guarantee that they will return successful. Even the gatherers can have bad days. So despite the fact that a good two thirds of the clan spends much of their days just trying to feed everyone, there are times when they still go hungry. Those that are too young or too old to hunt or carry a heavy gather-basket are required to take up all the other chores of the clan: making baskets, carving tools and weapons, weaving cloth, tending the fires, harvesting medicines, scouting for predators, etc.

Several of the children had been called away on predator watch today; the hunters had had a very successful day yesterday, and much of the meat had to be laid out and dried to be saved for later. Small carnivores and aggressive scavengers are attracted to all that food out in the open, so the kids were armed with big, brushy sticks and told to scare away anything threatening the drying meat. They looked pretty funny with a tree branch in their tails, flailing and squawking at everything that moved. I went a little way off to find a quiet spot on my own.

It was for the best that I had time to myself today. As it happened, today is the thirtieth day I’ve been on the planet; check-in day.

You see, my computer automatically uploads all my information on a daily basis as a safety precaution. I have to log every day I use my chlorine reagents, for example, and then every evening that and all my the other information I log is sent via satellite to Ground Zero Station. This way they know I’m not dead, and I don’t have to have a mental breakdown about losing all my notes if something eats my computer (I’d have to bust out the “Oh Shit Box” and send an emergency beacon, but at least my notes would be safe!).

Anyway, while the uploads keep GZS updated, they don’t give immediate access to more subtle things like, say, mental state, physical problems, etc. So Ed, Dr. Sutherland, and I are required to check in with each other every 30 days. It gives us a break from puzzling out Bhukaosi for one thing; and if any of us seems to be going off the deep end, one of the others can flag the station and get the nutjob pulled out before any permanent damage is done.

So I unfolded my little solar array to get a nice, fat charge, plugged in my computer, and pinged Dr. Sutherland.

He was entirely uninterested in talking, which is to say he was acting perfectly normal. For him. The first thing out of his mouth was “You’re still sane, right? I’m too busy to haul crazies away today.” Ah, Doc. I feel the love.

So, yeah, my chat with him lasted all of two minutes. I tried to ask him about his clan, D’Moru; one of the desert tribes. He muttered something about them being very “fierce,” and was then immediately on about some of the creatures he’d encountered. Apparently there’s an animal living out in the desert that can photosynthesize sugars. But before I could grill him about that little nugget, he was off about a bunch of other plant species. As he rambled, there seemed to be something that resembled an Azu-nah nose that kept peeking into his camera’s line-of-site, but he kept shoving it away so I’m not sure. The “conversation” was pretty much over when ended his little ramble and said he had to get back. Then he cut the link without waiting for me to respond. Sigh. Typical Doc.

Thankfully Ed was better company. He also had company; there were a good three or four Azus with him that were absolutely fascinated by the “hyooman in your light-box!” They kept peeking over his shoulder or shoving past it to get a better look at the computer. They all had very bright colored tattoos, and one was a brilliant green; much more colorful than D’Keda. I waved at them. This made them worse.

Ed’s looking a bit frazzled and ragged, and he was clearly annoyed with his eavesdroppers, but he seems like he’s thoroughly enjoying himself. He says he’s had a terrible time getting taken seriously until the last few days. His clan is almost exclusively arboreal, living in the huge trees of their temperate rain forest.

“I haven’t been on the ground more than twice in the last month,” Ed said, grinning. “There are some interesting predators on the ground, so they stay up here. I had a hell of a time getting used to the height, and jumping around tree branches. Excuse you!” He paused to shove another face out of the way.

“They treated me like a baby. But a couple days ago they had a series of games, and I actually won one of the races!” He gestured to a dyed pattern across one eyebrow and down his cheek. “They gave me this as a kind of trophy. It’ll wear off in a day or two, but now they act like I’m actually a member of D’Sokati. Er.. Well, maybe not a member, but I’m not a todd--Keshay, go away!” Poor Ed.

It’s been really good talking to him. I’ve missed human company. Much as I’m growing to love the Azu-nah, it’s been lonely being the only one of my species for a thousand kilometers. We chatted for a good hour. It was a huge relief to speak English for a while, and talk to someone else who understood my experiences.

“Next time, you may want to hide somewhere!” I teased him as we were saying goodbye. “Or you’ll probably have an even bigger crowd.”

“Shut up, and be glad yours are quiet,” he grinned, and we signed off. I’m looking forward to our next check-in.

I wonder what he means about “yours are quiet?”