Fiction: Bob the Human

[LONG-WINDED PREFACE: A while back, for about a hot second, I had a Reddit account (before realizing it wasn't really my thing) and used it to post a short story that got some positive interest, which is always nice. Since I don't have it posted anywhere else, I thought, "well, why not here?"

There are two types of fiction I find particularly difficult to write. One is science fiction; while I love reading it, I can't always wrap my brain around all the implications of certain scientific concepts and how they would mesh with -- or transform -- human nature. Nor is it easy for me to try to think the way a truly alien intelligence might think. It's a challenge. The other type of fiction that's hard for me to write is pure dialogue. So of course, right out of the gate I posted a short SF story that is ALL dialogue. Never let it be said that I'm not up for a self-made challenge or two.]

 

BOB THE HUMAN
(originally published under the name a-skyful-of-stars)
(Click here to hear Miandis and his mom read "Bob the Human" on YouTube)

"Well, that's done. Our course is all laid in and executed; the ship does the rest. From here on out to the Nebula it's pretty quiet."

"Sounds like we'll have orbits of free time. Care to play a game?"

"No, thanks. Between my memory and my clan's, we've played every game in this ship's database at least two hundred times."

"What about stories?"

"Only if you've got a new one."

"Hmm. Want to hear about the prank the 15-gen Threz pulled on the Grati?"

"Is this the one about filling their entire hall with foam putty?"

"So you've heard it then."

"Way too many times."

"How about the time the ghost of Jorit 2 Makh the Exemplar came back to haunt the Retmer clan?"

"Uh. That was another Threz prank, wasn't it?"

"What can I say? We Threz like pranks."

"Sorry, we Dorg spend too much time worrying about cargo and all the things that can go wrong with a ship to appreciate pranks."

"Well. Hmm. I suppose I could tell you about Bob the Human."

"… uh, that one is not familiar. What about Bob the Human?"

"Well, it started 3 gens ago with Threz 37 Norcim, my clancestor. Fought in the Human War. We honestly thought that with our superior tech, the whole thing would be over in a half-orbit or so. Turned out we were right, but not for the right reasons. In our defense, every clan of Finayar underestimated how the humans would fight under pressure."

"Yeah, two of my clancestors were pilots in the Human War. Our memories of humans are frightening. The things they did, even with grossly inferior weapons… nngh."

"Well, anyway, once the war had come to a standstill and the Finayaran ambassadors had worked out the treaty with them, Norcim signed up for the Finayaran Exchange. Honestly, we didn't really want to get to know humans, but the terms of the treaty demanded it -- and we were promised a sizable land grant on a colony world once we'd completed the exchange. So we agreed to stay for one Earth orbit. And that's how we met Bob the Human."

"Bob was your exchange host?"

"No, no. Our host was Anne. Very friendly and attentive to Norcim -- a bit too attentive, honestly -- weirdly interested in Finayarans, so we were constantly looking for valid reasons to leave her dwelling. We met Bob one night in a communal drinking hall -- a 'bar,' if Norcim's memory serves. Bob came right up to us with a large blue bottle -- he admitted later he was a little, uh, 'plastered' at the time -- and said, 'Hey there, Finnie, you gotta try some of this stuff. Cures rabies, scabies and babies!'"

"Ra-bies…?"

"Well, rabies and scabies are both Earth illnesses. Babies… well, that was the primary reason Norcim didn't want to get to know humans. I assume you’ve heard the rumors?"

"What, that they… uh… that they reproduce…"

"Mm-hmm. Full-on sexual reproduction. They're even sexually dimorphous."

"Ugh. Like animals?"

"Yup. It's why we assumed we could colonize Earth. Sapient species just don't reproduce sexually."

"That's kind of disgusting."

"Do you know, it's even disgusting to them? Bob told us that when young humans learn about their species' own reproductive behavior for the first time, they usually find it repulsive."

"Wait, so… how are they coerced to mate?"

"We asked Bob about that. He said, 'Oh, you get used to it. Matter of fact, usually the trick's getting us to stop mating.'"

"Oh, that is SO NASTY!"

"Ha! At least they usually mate in private."

"So if they, uh, mate instead of dividing -- then each new gen of theirs begins with no clan memories?"

"Exactly right."

"Glorious Finayar. How do they survive?"

"Good question. Young humans are frighteningly altricial. They can't walk or speak or do much of anything for themselves. So for the first several orbits of their lives, their closest clancestors do everything for them, including sheltering them, feeding them nutriment and removing what they eliminate. Every gen of young must be taught language, behavior, how to survive, and they're constantly supervised, because they don't even know enough not to throw themselves into deep water or play with intense heat. It's an exhausting process."

"Their clancestors must resent them."

"Norcim thought so too, at first. But over time we observed that humans instinctively care more about the beings for whom they sacrifice, not less. So the more trouble clancestors take to care for their young, to ensure their survival, the more emotional connection they have for those young."

"Hmm. Still seems like a lot of trouble. Parthenogenesis is much more efficient."

"It certainly has its advantages. At least we start with our clancestors' memories. All we have to do is grow to full size and take our clan's role in society."

"Well, that's exactly why our society is superior. No knowledge is lost, every being improves on the competence of the gen before it, every clan has its proper place. Dorg are pilots, Threz are warriors, Grati uphold the laws, Retmer sculpt, Jorit are philosophers..."

"Hmm."

"…what?"

"So, if we're superior… and if nothing is ever lost… then why don't we dance anymore?"

"All right, you know better than to talk like that."

"Why? We're on a ship in the middle of nowhere. Orbits of time. No one else is listening. Why can't we talk about what happened to the Ruuk?"

"Not on my ship. Tell me more about Bob the Human."

"Fine. Bob… well, Bob loved pranks as much as Norcim. He could've been a Threz. He figured out a way to rig a coffee machine at his work so it randomly dispensed balsamic vinegar."

"Coffee… vinegar?"

"Coffee is a human stimulant drink. Vinegar, well, isn't. Norcim found them equally revolting. But it was fun to hide with Bob and watch other drowsy humans fill up their cups, take a big swig and then spew it across the room."

"You Threz are all mildly insane, aren't you?"

"I think the word you're mispronouncing is 'fun-loving.'"

"You're always getting yourselves in trouble."

"Well, that’s where the fun is! Bob used to take Norcim for rides on this old two-wheeled machine called a Harley. It made horrible noises, it went too fast to be safe, and the only protection we had were round headgear that didn't fit our head, and clothing made of processed animal skins. If we'd fallen off we certainly would have perished. And it was spectacular! We went YEEEHAA."

"What's yeeehaa?"

"Obviously, it's the noise you make when you're hanging onto the back of a Harley."

"Humans have weird customs."

"You said it. Do you know that every orbit they celebrate the day they were born?"

"What would they do that for?"

"Well, Bob tried to explain. He said that life was precious to humans, so they tended to have celebrations every chance they got. But he really should have explained what a birthday party was like before we got there. It was the most bizarre thing we'd ever seen. The guests had covered the inside of the dwelling in dangling bits of paper. They all yelled at Bob in unison when he entered and threw more bits of paper around. Everyone put tiny bright cones on the tops of their heads and blew through objects that made squawking noises and flicked out like a Retgar's tongue. Then they turned out the lights and ceremonially set fire to a confection. Bob just sat there grinning in the light of this flaming pastry while they chanted this peculiar little song, and then he blew out the fire before it could do any damage to the dwelling. Then they stabbed it repeatedly and gave slabs of it to every guest… we supposed that it came from some ancient human tradition where everyone present must share in the ritual sacrifice. It was disgustingly brown inside, but everyone was eating big mouthfuls and making noises of joy, so Norcim tried a bite."

"And?"

"Well, we didn't die. But the stuff they called 'ice cream' was better."

"Huh. As I said, weird."

"Then afterward, they put on some raucous noise they called 'classic rock' and everybody danced."

"What, Norcim didn't… you… danced?"

"Why not? It has no political connotations on Earth."

"But… even on Earth… it could have been reported. No one after Ruuk 10 Dragut…"

"Oh, NOW you want to talk about the Ruuk."

"No, no I don't. But how did Norcim even know how to dance?"

"We didn't. One of the guests at the party taught Norcim how. It was easy. And it was fun."

"Oh, come on! How can you expect me to believe that anyone could learn in one day what it took the Ru -- ah, never mind."

"What it took the Ruuk clan multiple gens to learn?"

"I did NOT say that."

"Oh, stop sulking. The short answer is that human dancing, at least casual dancing, is simple. It doesn't require all the gens of formal training the Ruuk used to put into it. There's no deeper spiritual meaning, no ritual symbolism. It's done for pleasure."

"But… didn't it cause them to…?"

"No. No one at the party acted like Dragut. No one at the party had ever heard of Dragut, other than Norcim. How could humans know anything about the Ruuk clan, or how it perished? It's not a well-discussed part of our history, even on Finayar. Can't even talk about it with you, apparently."

"It's just… now that we know dancing is dangerous, that it… spawns untested ideas, encourages rebellion, breeds dictators like Dragut… I mean, can you deny the Ruuk were evil?"

"We used to think they were. Norcim believed what our clancestors believed, that the Ruuk had to be extinguished for the good of all Finayar. But after the dance at Bob's party… well, there was nothing subversive in human dancing, nothing but fun. I'm more inclined to believe now that the only Ruuk who really went bad was Dragut. The rest simply followed orders. We could have redeemed them. Preserved their memories, their experiences. Instead, we've lost that part of our culture forever."

"Well. We don't need to dance."

"Neither do the humans. But they do it anyway."

"How can you possibly be flippant about this? Haven't humans ever had to deal with the horrors of a dictator?"

"Oh, they've had plenty. Bob told us about some of the humans who tried to take over Earth. Hitler, Stalin, Mussolini, Mao, Pol Pot, Kim, Ruff, Shang… it was a long list. Somehow humans manage to fight back and destroy dictators without completely wiping out their clans in the process."

"That's so odd. I mean, humans showing restraint. They were such horrific fighters during the war."

"You know what Bob told Norcim once?"

"Hmm?"

"One night, when he'd had too much to drink -- again -- he admitted that he was a war veteran. Killed many of us."

"You made FRIENDS with a war criminal?"

"You know, on Earth Norcim could have been considered a war criminal for all the humans we'd killed. But Bob didn't treat us like that. Not ever."

"But… but they were so fierce. Killed so many. What was it that enraged them so much?"

"Norcim wanted to know that too. Bob told us, 'I had to fight them… well, fight you, I guess… after Colleen, after the Finnie blitz. It gave me something to live for after she was gone.'"

"And Colleen was…?"

"Bob's mate."

"Ugh. Back to mating again."

"Well, sexual reproduction may be distasteful to us, but Bob… well, for him it was more than just ensuring the next gen. He developed deep emotional connections with his mate. Even when they were separated, he said, thinking of Colleen made him feel stronger, happier, more full of life. The way he described it, it was almost as though they -- shared each other's lives. Something like what we share with our clancestors, only voluntarily."

"Huh. And when he lost that connection, he had to fight us? I don't understand."

"Well, he said that when Colleen died, she took some of his soul away with her. No, don't ask. Bob tried to explain souls so many times, and we never understood it. But his connection to Colleen was so strong he came close to killing himself rather than living without her. Fighting let him get revenge against the beings he felt had taken his mate from him. It gave him a chance to fight for the survival of his clan. And it gave him a reason to go on living until he could come up with reasons of his own."

"So… he fought us. They hated us. How could you ever think of him as a friend?"

"Because he was a friend. He did all the things friends do. He cared about what happened to Norcim, not just because we were part of the Exchange, but because Bob honestly liked us. He wanted us to be happy, to have a good experience on Earth. And he made sure we did."

"I don't see how he could like you as a friend, if he was so busy killing us for revenge."

"Oh, that. He said, 'Don’t worry about it, Finnie. We usually make friends of our enemies after every war. Besides, I expect Colleen would want me to. She always loved the idea of ETs.'"

"ETs?"

"It's from an old entertainment of theirs. 'Extra-terrestrials.' Their name for every sapient species that doesn't originate on Earth."

"Tsh. Making friends of their enemies, myopically self-focused, sexually reproductive… humans are the most bizarre little creatures."

"…I suppose so."

"Now you don't sound all that convinced."

"It's just… I've thought about it for a while, and I'm not sure we should look down on humans for the way they reproduce."

"I don't follow you."

"Well, if we'd reproduced parthenogenetically from the very first intelligent Finayaran, we'd all be the same, wouldn’t we? All part of one clan?"

"I… guess, but…"

"But instead there are many different clans with differing physical characteristics… and our clan memories don't go all the way back to the beginning, so… well, hasn't it occurred to you that at some time in the long past, Finayarans must have reproduced sexually too?"

"UGH. You've spent too much time on Earth; they've corrupted your thoughts!"

"Oh, hardly. The Jorit have been positing the same theory for orbits now. Jorit 40 Klenabar has been saying that sexual reproduction has some advantages over parthenogenesis."

"That's because Klenabar is a deviant."

"That's just another word for 'thinks differently from the rest of us.'"

"Look, I can't discuss this tawdry subject any longer. I'm going to go see to the ship."

"As it suits you."

 

[5 ORBITS LATER]

"You're back."

"Well, I've done everything I can think of to do. We're still on course, all the maintenance systems are working properly… it's all ticking along just fine."

"I see."

"And… uh… I've been thinking a little about what you said."

"What part of what I said?"

"About Klenabar. And advantages to… uh… you know."

"Sexual reproduction?"

"Nnngh. Well. I just don't see how it could possibly be more useful."

"Well, Klenabar's theory is that Finayarans once reproduced sexually, and that's what created our clan lines -- we all originated from individual beings with specific skills and talents. Klenabar believes there's evidence to show Finayar had an extinction-level event about 40 gens ago, before we developed spaceflight. Some individuals survived, but they must have been sterile. Back then, parthenogenesis could have been a secondary method, a way to reproduce in emergencies, but it must have become our only option."

"Huh. Even assuming Klenabar's theory is correct… which I'm not sure I believe… then it would have been an evolutionary advantage only in our past. Parthenogenesis is superior. We're far more fortunate to be as we are."

"Hmm."

"Oh, what now?"

"You remember how fiercely the humans fought?"

"Of course. Wish I could forget."

"They were fighting for their mates. For their offspring. For the emotional connections they had to other humans. And not just to other humans, but to other beings as well."

"I thought you said Earth didn't have any other native sapients."

"They don't have to be native sapients. Humans voluntarily care for animals. They cultivate local flora in their dwellings. And sometimes they even protect offworld species. One night a couple of humans came up to Norcim, called us 'dirty splitter' and said something about 'making an alien autopsy vid,' and tried to cut us open with blades. But they didn't get the chance, because Bob went after them with something he called a… um, I think it was a 'Louisville slugger.' He fought them like a true warrior. Would have made any Threz proud. I think he might have saved our life."

"Well, that was… honorable of him."

"It was more than honorable. Because Bob thought of us as his friend, he was willing to put his own life in jeopardy to protect Norcim's. That's what we saw during the war. It wasn't just that humans were trying to defend a world they thought of as theirs. In the process of trying to colonize Earth, we destroyed many beings that were precious to them. That's why they would do anything to beat us."

"That doesn't make much sense. There are always other beings with whom they could forge connections. It's not like we wiped them all out."

"No, no, think. Humans are different from us. Do you know why I'm going back to Earth?"

"Because it's the only planet that will have you?"

"Ha ha. No. I'm going back to tell them about Bob the Human."

"Uh. Wouldn't they be better off hearing Bob's stories from Bob?"

"Well, yes, but... after the orbit in the Finayaran Exchange, Norcim went back to claim the land grant we were promised, and Bob was -- remarkably emotional at seeing us go. We kept telling him not to worry, that Norcim or one of Norcim's descendants would come visit him in the future. And he said, 'Look, Finnie, I'm 62 years old. Realistically, I'm not going to see you again. But I'm damned glad I got to know you. Don't forget me, all right?'"

"Heh. Silly thing to say."

"That's what Norcim thought, but we hardly had time to dwell on it. We had other things to think about, mostly colonization. Three gens later, though, when the colony was well established and I was still only partly grown, I thought it'd be fun to go see Bob again, or some of his descendants."

"Let me guess. He groaned and called you Finnie."

"No. He wasn't there. His dwelling wasn't there. None of his clan members or friends were there."

"Hmm. Must've moved offworld, then."

"I thought so too. I went to the human government to find out where he'd gone. They combed their records and told me Bob died thirty orbits after we left."

"Died? Glorious Finayar, what happened to him? Was he in an accident?"

"They said 'natural causes.' That it was common for humans back then to die after ninety or a hundred orbits."

"What? But he was so young!"

"They were all so young. All the humans Norcim met during our time on Earth had been dead for at least three thousand orbits. I couldn't comprehend it. They told me that even now it's rare for a human to live beyond a hundred and forty orbits. They just… succumb so quickly. I had no idea how fragile, how tiny their lives were."

"Oh. Well, that explains…"

"What?"

"After the war, the humans wanted to talk to the Dorg. They were offering to exchange their technology for ours, specifically for the faster-than-light tech they were sure we had in our ships. We didn't understand why they thought we had tech past lightspeed. But it makes sense, if they live such short lives…"

"Right. They couldn't even survive a journey to the nearest star outside their system. It’s why all their colony worlds are so close together."

"Well, at least you found Bob's descendants, didn't you?"

"I did, actually. Many of them. So many."

"And did THEY groan and call you Finnie?"

"No. None of them recognized me."

"But -- oh. Oh, that’s right. They don't have clancestor memories."

"Exactly. And since their lives are so short, Bob's whole life might as well be a myth to them. All they knew was that they had a clancestor who fought in the Human War. That was when I started to understand the tragedy of being human. Every single one is a discrete, solitary individual, with no memories other than his own, and no way of transferring memories directly to the next gen, so every single death is like the extinguishing of the Ruuk. I think that's why they make such strong emotional connections -- so they won't feel so alone."

"So… so Bob is just… gone?"

"No, not completely. He's here in my head. With Norcim's memories. That's why I go back to Earth. I can't bring Bob back, but I can make sure his descendants have all our memories of their clancestor. Each time I visit, I tell another of their gens everything Norcim knew about Bob -- his friends, his mate, his beliefs, his pranks, his vengeance, his kindness, the way he lived."

"Tell me, do you think they… appreciate what you do? Do they like hearing about Bob?"

"I think most of them do. But I'd do it anyway. I've realized their small lives need our long memories."

"And besides, Bob wouldn't want you to forget him."

"Oh, believe me, Bob would be impossible to forget."

"So… uh… care to play a game?"

"Sure."