Are You Even Human

54. Asking Too Much

Pathless Wanderings Gladden Futures says, his small, sinuous body twisting through the water around me, always on the move.

I confirm.

It's the second day since arriving here in The Divinity of Wonder's territory, the other Angels urging me to get some sleep after I told them how far I traveled to get here. When I awoke, I found that they had all decided to take turns following me around, asking me questions, and answering any questions of my own while the others did their usual duties and tasks. Pathless Wanderings Gladden Futures has been accompanying me so far, and to absolutely no one's surprise he has recommended I tour the territory in no particular pattern or order, simply swimming where my whims take me as he follows along.

He (or they, or whatever; neither human sex nor gender has a particularly good analogue to alien equivalents) is a surprisingly small Angel, both the smallest Angel I've seen and the smallest alien I've seen period. Despite having a very similar form to a Leviathan, all sinuously serpent-like, he's more like a particularly friendly eel than a sea serpent of legend.

Pathless Wanderings Gladden Futures laments.

I tell them.

My tentacles squirming in irritation, I obligingly exhale the concept-slash-emotion of my thankfulness rather than the word representing it. This, unfortunately, makes the Angel even comfortable, the ever-present scent of concern about me only growing stronger.

Pathless Wanderings Gladden Futures says.

I grumble.

Pathless Wanderings Gladden Futures assures me.

Young? Really? I guess I don't really know how old any of these Angels are, but I'm certainly an adult by my own people's standards.

I say.

Pathless Wanderings Gladden Futures wails.

A Blossom of Wilted Chances chimes in, pinging the network with a request to swap tasks with Pathless Wanderings.

Pathless Wanderings Gladden Futures laments.

A Blossom of Wilted Chances insists.

Pathless Wanderings Gladden Futures counters.

A Blossom of Wilted Chances stands firmly.

Pathless Wanderings Gladden Futures squirms as he begins to swim away.

I respond.

A Blossom of Wilted Chances harrumphs.

He swims off, quick as a whip, while A Blossom of Wilted Chances makes her way over to me at a more sedate pace, her willowy tendrils trailing slightly behind her as she moves. She is, to my understanding, the Princess of this particular colony, which is to say she is being trained to one day be transformed into a Queen in much the same way she was transformed into an Angel, at which point she will depart and form a colony of her own. That said, it is my understanding that this process tends to take many, many, years. I'm not exactly sure how long; the aliens don't seem to be all that good at keeping time, but they estimated it would be thousands if not tens of thousands of Earth-length days. Blossom herself, by her own admission, is in no hurry to make the change.

A Blossom of Wilted Chances says as she approaches.

I ask.

A Blossom of Wilted Chances answers simply.

I answer. I appreciate them doing the things I actually asked for help with, anyway.

Blossom says, coming to a stop as I swim up to meet her halfway. Her body is an interesting mix of seemingly useless decoration and lethal brutality, a veneer of beauty hiding weaponry with enough strength and speed to punch through steel plating. Everyone here has already let me scan their biology, but I still instinctively form a pair of her blade limbs out of my back when my domain overlaps her body. She signals amusement and appreciation.

she admits, swishing her tendrils back and forth.

Oh? That's two pieces of interesting information.

Interesting.

I admit.

cease

I press.

A Blossom of Wilted Chances slowly rotates upside-down, splaying out her tendrils and revealing her far more dangerous limbs. It doesn't really look like a threatening posture, though. I'm not quite sure what to make of it.

she answers.

Chaos Erupts in Indifferent Blessings calls out from somewhere else in the territory.

Blossom addresses me.

Chaos complains.

Blossom hisses back, her jabs suddenly a lot less playful.

Blossom huffs, flipping back upright and then suddenly teleporting beside me, causing me to immediately end synchronicity and prepare for a possible attack.

I say.

Blossom says.

I say.

She teleports around me three more times in quick succession, but I don't rise to the bait. Instead, I just expand my domain a little around myself to keep her from popping in too close. Or… at least that's the idea, which is why I get startled when she pops in close enough to flick me with several of her tentacles at once. I grab them on instinct, preparing to burrow my domain into hers, but my wrists explode into a shower of gore, detaching my hands from my body, and then she's suddenly behind me. I twist around and grow more eyes to keep track of her, but she teleports backwards and…

…Starts laughing?

The Divinity of Wonder reacts in horror.

several Raptors inquire.

Chaos groans.

I assure everyone, recollecting the detached biomass and repairing my body before adding crystal scales as armor. I have no idea what happened to me, but I want to figure out how to ensure it never happens again.

Blossom titters.

God, why did I let my guard down? I mean, I there's no permanent damage, and she only did what she did because she knew there wouldn't be, but it's not like I enjoy getting cut up!

The Divinity of Wonder requests.

I insist.

Blossom taunts.

The Divinity of Wonder rumbles.

Blossom backpedals.

Chaos Erupts in Indifferent Blessings says.

Pathless Wanderings Gladden Futures agrees.

The Divinity of Wonder groans.

I butt in, officially tired of this. It would be helpful to know her abilities anyway, in case this gets worse. And if I win, it's a lot less likely to get worse.

Blossom calls out, twisting towards me and approaching with a single powerful push against the water.

I say,

Her domain once again overlaps mine, fighting inconclusively for control as dissonance crackles between us, Possibility itself wanting neither of us to get hurt. Blossom and I stare each other down for a while, and then despite being weakened, she once again teleports in front of my face. There's no sound, no movement, no displacement of water. It's instant, simply as if she was always there.

I don't strike at her this time. I refuse to let her bait me like that.

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she hums.

I fire back, my muscles growing beneath my skin, internal organs reshaping themselves into hidden weapons ready to tear themselves free.

Chaos groans, he and Wanderings putting their tasks on hold to approach us.

Blossom says, reaching up a tendril to point towards her own brain.

Pathless Wanderings Gladden Futures protests.

Blossom says.

The Divinity of Wonder shifts in place, causing countless changes in the local currents from a single idle movement.

the Queen says.

Chaos says, clacking his claws for emphasis.

Wanderings says.

Blossom complains.

Pathless Wanderings Gladden Futures chides her, swimming in quick, anxious circles.

Blossom answers.

Oh, now a challenge.

I suggest.

Chaos sighs.

I snap back.

Blossom confirms before anyone else can answer.

I say.

A rare moment of relative silence fills the network, the usual glut of words replaced with flittering emotions, changing too rapidly to form into coherent thoughts for a few heavy seconds. Again, it is Blossom that breaks the silence.

she asserts with an irritating amount of confidence.

Chaos agrees, swimming slowly towards me.

she answers, teleporting a dozen feet away before starting to swim in the same direction. God, I barely even understand what happened, but whatever. I'm not being kicked out, at least.

Chaos says.

I say.

Chaos insists.

I ask.

he answers.

I ask.

Chaos confirms.

I point out.

Chaos says.

I ask.

Chaos expresses hesitance, taking a moment to decide how to answer.

he says.

I say.

Chaos confirms.

I sigh.

He clicks both of his claws together with a deep boom, causing a pulse of water pressure to wash over me. I tense up, my body reshaping for combat before I realize that action, again, wasn't aggressive. It's just… something he does, I guess.

he concedes.

Hmm. I guess that's a good question. I give him a thankful nod, though I guess that's pretty useless. I'm keeping my brain mostly human to avoid too many automatic answers, since full-on alien brains would struggle to shut up. I'm just… not comfortable with that. I know they're being honest that they want to help, but that's asking too much. All of my thoughts and feelings, all of the time? No way in hell am I sharing that. That would just be awful.

Anyway, the question. What I want to see here? I don't know much about how an alien colony actually functions. I know the Raptors—or the workers, as the aliens call them—hunt for food and bring it back to the Queen, who turns it into digestible food for the rest of the colony and regurgitates it into the feeding tubes of basically everyone else. Behemoths, Wasps, and even Leviathans are entirely helpless without a Queen, though some Raptors might be able to feed them in a pinch.

This creates a bit of an unfortunate power dynamic. Well… no, that's not true. This to the unfortunate power dynamic already present between powered and unpowered members of an alien colony. Raptors, Wasps, and the like are all people, with individual thoughts and feelings. I've Raptors that had a religious schism with their Queen, and of course they were kicked out and left entirely helpless against humanity as a result. I may have left behind all the foibles of human society, but I have no reason to believe I've stumbled into something any better.

I say.

Chaos says, which… yeah, that's a pretty bad sign.

I say.

Immediately, I am flooded with of numbered unit designations and tagged greetings, immediately overwhelming me as the systems alien brains normally use to filter out irrelevant network calls are bypassed by the direct address. My body writhes with discomfort, tentacles lengthening and wrapping themselves all over the rest of me as I swap between four different faces. I… probably could have handled that just fine if I was going one hundred percent Angel brain rather than a low-alien hybrid, but… ow.

I answer, keeping the strain out of my words.

Chaos agrees easily.

I say. God, how do I explain this? I guess I explain this without being a total downer again. The alien language doesn't really have a good equivalent to the word 'slavery,' which… y'know, is another red flag!

Chaos says.

The Divinity of Wonder chimes in.

I ask.

Chaos confirms.

The Divinity of Wonder explains.

I ask.

The Divinity of Wonder says.

I press.

Chaos asks.

I complain.

Chaos says.

I ask.

The Divinity of Wonder answers.

Yeah, that checks out. I still remember the feeling of using a Raptor brain in the presence of an Angel. It was… overwhelmingly straightforward. I was only capable of mustering up the tiniest sliver of thought that I could, let alone disobey them. The Angel brains I've used have had none of that instinct. They're far more capable of independence.

I explain.

There's a subtle shift in the network, one that's difficult for me to parse. It feels almost like… the weight of attention.

Chaos admits.

Chaos agrees.

I correct.

Chaos answers.

I ask.

Chaos says.

I say,

Chaos answers simply.

I send.

Chaos answers.

Are you fucking kidding me? Are they really this stupid? Why would they ever… no. They're zealots. It always comes down to that. And their gods have . Rivalries. Every god, so far as I know, has at least one other god that they hate. Blasphemy hates other gods! Of course they would have constant war.

And why not? None of them fear death. Damn it, damn it, damn it. This is the other piece of the puzzle, isn't it? I thought it was a little absurd that alien colonies figured out that we're people, but maybe some of them did. It just didn't matter, because they don't value lives in the first place!

Chaos asks.

Hold it in. Hold it in. There's a more productive way to tackle this than just vomiting out my emotions. There always is. People don't respond well to that, they never respond well to that. No matter how angry you are, you have to act calm and reasonable or you'll never be listened to. Gently maneuver the argument, nudging weaknesses and stepping around strengths. Plan. Think. But never feel. That's the only correct way to have a conversation.

It's hard. It's always hard, but all of a sudden it's an unrelenting pressure inside my skull, doing everything it can to push past my defenses and let itself out into the world. Everyone here keeps telling me 'just share your feelings, just share your feelings' and so part of me keeps asking, well, what if I do? What if I actually speak my mind this time? I'm literally being invited to. That's one of the best—if not the only—appropriate times to be fully clear and honest. Of course, even then, you need to be measured. Quiet. Purposeful. It's never alright to just outright say something like—

I bellow into the network.

Ah. Ahahaha. Oh, fuck. Well, I can't stop it now. My parents were killed. My life was ruined. I suffered the consequences of war for most of my life and then I was it, and my family died again. I met an anxious girl screaming in the ruins of her own disassembled home, her family's corpses floating in the air around her. I met a traumatized child raging in a flurry of violence, her family's blood staining her face. We suffered apart and we suffered together, got rescued from hell by a new one, and got crushed and melted into gears to be thrown into a grand and brutal machine. And all of it, all of it, was because these maddened zealots just

All of it flows out of me, my body twisting and thrashing and growing all the while. Damn them, damn them, damn them! Even though part of me knows none of the people here were ever personally involved with it, it's their entire culture, their entire society that's ultimately at fault, and they're still contributors to that madness. Omnipresence as Worship spoke of Possibility colonies as well-respected, highly-regarded presences. They could have done something. They should have done something! But none of them think, none of them try to empathize, they just do their stupid fucking tasks and never change or improve anything about themselves and now

I scream at everyone and no one.

Blossom's sharp scents cut through my deluge.

I demand.

Blossom says, and I hate her answer, I hate myself for completely losing control like this.

Hundreds of individual minds wail in despair around me, surrounding me with sympathy, understanding, and pain. I don't comprehend it all. I still haven't really let them in, not from a single outburst, not with a mostly-human brain. But that brain does know to do one thing. Despite how far I am underwater, the many eyes I don't remember growing all start to cry.

The Divinity of Wonder promises.