We're Not from Here

by Geoff Rodkey

  Hooree glared at her, then turned to me. “If you wish to eat your nutrition with criminals, then they should be your school guides instead of me.”

  “Please don’t be upset!” I told him. “I just want to live in peace with everyone.”

  “It is impossible to live in peace with criminals,” he whined. “Everyone knows that.” Then he flitted away, leaving a whiff of gasoline in his wake.

  Oh geez. “Hooree, wait!” I stood up, fumbling to close my container of Chow so I could follow him.

  “You are not choosing his company over ours, are you?” Marf asked.

  “I have to! He’s my guide.” I was having trouble closing my Chow container while still keeping my eyes on Hooree. He was headed for the faucets of food. A few more seconds, and I’d lose him for good in the thick crowd of Zhuri.

  “We can be your guides,” said Marf.

  “You’re not in my class,” I said. I finally managed to close the Chow container. Hooree was so far away now that I was going to have to run to catch up with him.

  “I am in your class,” Ezger said.

  “You are?” I turned to look at him, completely losing track of Hooree.

  “Yes. Yurinuri. Six None Six. Yesterday, I was the one who asked if you ate other humans.”

  “Ohmygosh! I’m so sorry!” I studied Ezger’s face, trying to memorize his features so I wouldn’t make such an embarrassing mistake again. “Why didn’t you say hello this morning?”

  “I didn’t want to. And stop staring at me like that.”

  “Sorry!” I was getting even more embarrassed.

  “For a Krik, Ezger is very friendly,” Marf explained. “But for most other species, he is not friendly at all. So can we be your guides?”

  “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

  “Because we are criminals?”

  “No! Of course not!” Actually, yes. “It’s just that…I don’t want this to sound offensive….”

  “Don’t worry about that. Whatever you say, we will not be offended. And if we are, Ezger will bite your head off. But you will die instantly with very little pain, so don’t worry about that either.”

  I had no idea how to reply.

  “I am joking,” Marf explained.

  “I knew that.”

  “No, you didn’t,” said Ezger. “You looked very frightened. But do not worry. I would never bite off a part of you.” He pointed to my container of Chow. “Anyone who eats feces like that could not possibly taste good.”

  “Why don’t we discuss something more pleasant?” Marf suggested.

  “Great idea,” I agreed. “Speaking of jokes—when the Zhuri think something’s funny, do they make a kind of…doughnut smell?”

  “I do not know what a doughnut is,” said Marf. “But if it is sweet, then probably yes. I find the Zhuri laughter smell quite pleasant. It’s a shame they are discouraged from making it.” Marf lowered her voice. “And also speaking of jokes—Ezger and I have some questions for you.”

  “Okay. Sure! Ask away.”

  She and Ezger both turned their heads and looked back at my guard, who was sitting a few feet behind us with his weapon in his lap, drinking his lunch.

  Ezger lowered his voice too. “We watched the videos that were on your sister’s screen. The noises she made, with her mouth and that machine that had strings—what were they?”

  “You mean when she was singing? And playing guitar?”

  “Please speak more quietly,” Marf warned me in a low rumble.

  “Sorry.”

  “Is that what it is called?” Ezger asked. “Singing? Those noises were very pleasing. I liked them a lot.”

  “I told Ezger that noise is called music,” said Marf.

  I nodded. “That’s right,” I said in a half whisper. “And you liked it?” This seemed like fantastic news.

  “I liked it very much,” said Ezger. “Can you make the music noises?”

  “No, sorry,” I said. “I don’t play guitar. And I sing like a dog howls.”

  “I do not know what that means.”

  “Dogs are, um—never mind. It just means I’m a terrible singer.”

  “I did not care for your sister’s music,” Marf said, her rumbling voice so low that I worried my translator might not pick it up. “Ororo ears don’t enjoy such high frequencies. But I will tell you the thing I did like—”

  “Which I hated,” Ezger interjected.

  “Which Ezger hated, because he has very bad taste: the picture story with the flying people.”

  “The Birdleys?”

  “Yes!” Marf nodded her head so hard that her whole body shook. “It was very amusing.”

  “You liked The Birdleys? That’s amazing!”

  “It is a fascinating form of art. It is a series of pictures, yes? And they are combined at speed to give the illusion of movement?”

  “Yeah. It’s called a cartoon. Some of the funniest human shows ever were cartoons.”

  “I really enjoyed the cartoon,” said Marf.

  “I hated it so much,” Ezger said again.

  Marf ignored him. “Did the animals in that cartoon live on your planet with you?”

  “Kind of,” I said. “I mean, they did—but they weren’t like that at all in real life. They’re called birds. And real birds had very tiny brains. They didn’t talk, or wear clothes, or live in houses—so really, the show was about humans. Everybody on The Birdleys looked like a bird, but acted like a human. Does that make sense?”

  “Not at all,” said Ezger.

  “It does to me,” said Marf. “Do you have more episodes of this show?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I have a bunch.”

  “May I come to your house after school? I would like to discuss them with you.”

  “Discuss them?” I asked. “Or watch them?”

  “Both.”

  “Sure. What do you want to discuss?”

  Marf turned her head again to look at the guard, who was making slurping noises as he rooted around in his glass for the last drops of his lunch. The guard looked up, making eye contact with her.

  “I will tell you later,” said Marf.

  I DIDN’T EVEN try to understand Yurinuri’s lesson that afternoon. I was too excited about my conversation with Marf and Ezger.

  Assuming the rest of their species had the same taste they did, it was huge news. If the Ororo liked our TV, and the Krik liked our music, maybe they’d want us to stay on Choom.

  And if so, couldn’t they help get the Zhuri to change their minds?

  By the time class ended, I’d rescued the whole human race in my head by forming a music-and-TV-based alliance with the Ororo and the Krik. When Yurinuri dismissed us, I headed for Ezger, but he and the other Krik raced out the door so fast that they were gone before I reached it.

  I was about to follow them into the hallway when Yurinuri called out to me.

  “Lan human, may I speak to you for a moment?”

  “Yes, sir!” I walked back to the front of the room, and he lowered his voice so the departing Zhuri kids and my guard couldn’t hear him. “Have you given more thought to your presentation?”

  “Oh! Yes, sir!” Actually, no. So much had happened over the past day that I’d forgotten all about it. “I just, um…need a little more time. Do you have any advice about what I should include?”

  “As I said before…” His voice was almost a whisper. “Some people think the human has positive things to offer our society.”

  “Okay! Any things in particular, sir? I was just talking to a Krik and an Ororo about comedy and music—”

  He interrupted me with a loud whine as he looked over my shoulder. “It should be educational, Lan human.”

  I turned back to see where he was looking. My guard w
as halfway across the room, flitting toward us.

  “The purpose of your presentation is educational,” Yurinuri repeated. “Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir.” But not really.

  “Very good. I will see you tomorrow.”

  When I got to the hallway, it was so packed with Zhuri and Krik that finding Ezger was hopeless. There was also no sign of Marf, who would’ve been impossible to miss as the only Ororo in the school. I’d been hoping to hitch a ride home in her fancy silver pod, but I wound up taking my usual generic one and sitting in silence with my armed guard as I tried to puzzle out just what the heck my teacher was asking me to do.

  “Positive things to offer” seemed like they should include some kind of art, maybe even music or comedy. But the chief servant had called that stuff “poisonous,” and just mentioning it had seemed to freak out Yurinuri. Like Marf and Ezger at lunch, he hadn’t wanted my guard to hear me talking about it. Plus, he’d insisted that my presentation should be “educational,” whatever that meant.

  None of it made a whole lot of sense, but I figured I could ask Marf about it if she came over to our house like she’d said she would. Even if we couldn’t so much as talk about things like The Birdleys in front of the Zhuri, I was still excited about my idea to use them to get the Krik and the Ororo on our side.

  When I got home, though, Dad and Ila didn’t think the idea was nearly as exciting as I did. They were both lying on the couch. Dad’s venom-swollen face and upper body looked even worse than when I’d left that morning.

  “If we can get the Krik and the Ororo on our side, won’t that help change the Zhuri’s minds?”

  “It cahn’t hurrt,” Dad slurred, wincing from the pain of talking with half his face puffed up like a dark red balloon. “Buht the Zhuri urr the onesh in charge.”

  “Don’t talk,” Ila told him. “The doctor said you’ll just make it worse.”

  “A doctor came? What did he say?”

  “The same thing Leeni said: ‘it’ll get better.’ Except it’s not getting better.” Ila shook her head. “He gave us medicine to put on the wound, but it just seems to make it swell up more.”

  “I’m sorry, Dad.” He winked at me with his good eye. I guess winking didn’t hurt as much as smiling.

  “Did you get my screen back?” Ila asked.

  “Oh! Yes.” I gave it to her, and she disappeared into her bedroom with it like a squirrel running off with a nut.

  Then we heard the thunderclap of an incoming pod. It was Marf. I introduced her to Dad, and the first thing she said after fixing his translator was, “You need medicine for your injury.”

  “They gave him some,” I told her. “But it doesn’t help.”

  “Zhuri doctors are not competent to care for non-Zhuri species,” she said. “Why don’t you come to our home this evening? My parents can make the medicine that you need. You can also eat our evening meal with us. Humans enjoy Ororo food, don’t they?”

  “Yesh! Wonnerful! Thahnk you!” said Dad, trying to smile through the pain.

  “How much will this cost us?” I asked.

  “Lahn!”

  Dad glared at me, but Marf just grinned. “It is a fair question. I am a businessperson. But there is no charge. Consider it payment for the pleasure I got from watching human television on your sister’s screen.”

  “So what did you want to discuss about the Birdleys?”

  “Nothing,” said Marf. “It was not important. But I will happily watch more episodes if you have them.”

  “Sure. But shouldn’t we go to your place first and get Dad’s face fixed?”

  “Cahn we wait thill my wife comesh home?” Dad slurred.

  “Oh! Yeah. My mom would definitely want to come with us. She should be home in a little while. Is that okay?”

  “We can leave whenever you wish,” Marf replied. “There is no hurry.”

  The three of us sat down on the couch, and I took out my screen to show Marf another Birdleys episode. But she didn’t think the display was big enough, so she fetched some tools from her pod and used them to add a transmitter to my screen that let me cast the Birdleys video to the big Zhuri television on the wall.

  It was the kind of project that probably would’ve taken a human technician days to pull off, even with the right parts. But Marf managed it in about three minutes. As he watched her work, Dad looked amazed.

  “The average Ororo is seven thousand times as smart as the average human,” I explained, repeating what Marf had told me.

  “I guessh sho,” Dad slurred.

  After Marf set up the screencast, the three of us watched a couple of Birdleys episodes. Marf cracked up constantly, and I found out Ororo laugh almost the same way humans do—she didn’t make much noise, but her eyes crinkled up, and her body shook in a bouncy jiggle that almost knocked me off the couch once.

  “You really understand all of these jokes?” I asked.

  “Not all the words. But the movements, of course. It is just physics. He wants to go over the wall. But he goes through it instead. And intention—he wants it to be quiet. But his mate has invited her loud friend to their home.”

  “This is my favorite show. Like, ever.”

  “The birds remind me of Zhuri. Both in the way they move and in their thinking. They are very proud, but their actions are often foolish.”

  After the second episode, Dad excused himself to clean up before dinner. As soon as he left, Marf turned to me.

  “Now we must have a serious discussion.”

  “About what?”

  “The Birdleys. I have a business proposal for you. But first you must promise never to speak a word about it. Especially to your parents.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because if human parents are like Ororo parents, they will ruin everything.”

  “Oh. Okay. So what is it?”

  “You swear you will not discuss this? With your parents, or anyone else?”

  “Yes! Sure.”

  “You will keep it a secret? On pain of death?”

  “Death?”

  “If you keep the secret, it won’t come to that. Do you promise?”

  “I…uh…this whole death thing…?”

  “Forget that I said death. Just promise you will keep the secret.”

  “But you wouldn’t…actually kill me, right?”

  “It’s very unlikely. You are the only non-Ororo I have ever heard tell a joke. It wasn’t very funny, but it showed potential. That is a rare and valuable thing on this planet. No one around here is funny. Except other Ororo. But their sense of humor is very dark. Sometimes, they just make me sad instead of amused.”

  “What about Ezger? Isn’t he funny?”

  “Not on purpose. Ezger’s jokes are mostly accidental. Although he is quite good at sarcasm….We’re getting distracted here. Back to The Birdleys: How many episodes are there?”

  “I don’t know. A few hundred? It was a really popular show on Earth.”

  “I wish to buy all of them from you.”

  “Really? Wow! Okay. But…you can just come over and watch them for free.”

  “I prefer to possess them. Are they all on your screen?”

  “No, I just have a few. Most of them are in the archive up on the human ship. At least, I think they have all of them up there. Why do you want to buy them?”

  “That is not important.”

  “Are you going to, like, sell them to other Ororo? Because here’s the thing….” I explained my idea about getting the Ororo and the Krik interested in human TV and music, then asking them to help us win over the Zhuri.

  Marf shook her head. “Your plan is mathematically unsound.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Planet Choom is democratic. Roughly speaking, each person has an equal v
oice.”

  “So that’s good. Right?”

  “It depends on which species you are. There are six billion Zhuri, ten million Krik, and just two thousand Ororo. Mathematically speaking, the Ororo and Krik’s opinions do not matter at all.”

  “But the Zhuri must care a little bit what you think.”

  “They do not.”

  “Not at all?”

  “No. I am sorry. All the most important decisions are made by Zhuri alone.”

  “Oh.” I sighed. So much for saving the human race through comedy.

  “Will you sell the episodes to me?” she asked again.

  I thought about it. “Maybe. But why does this have to be such a big secret?”

  “There is risk involved.”

  “What kind of risk?”

  “These videos are illegal.”

  “They are?”

  “Yes. Unless they are educational.”

  “Oh! That explains it.” I told her about my conversation with my teacher and the “educational” presentation he wanted me to do.

  “Do you think The Birdleys are educational?” I asked.

  Marf shook her head. “No. They are entertainment—their purpose is to create emotion. Laughter, joy, sorrow…”

  “I don’t know about sorrow.”

  “The episode where Duane lost his job was quite sad in spots.”

  “That’s true. And they’re definitely meant to create laughter.”

  “Then they are unfortunately illegal. You should not let any Zhuri know they exist. And no one can ever know I purchased them from you. I will pay you four hundred rhee per episode.”

  “Wait—how illegal are they? Like, should I not even have them?”

  “The government would definitely not approve. But distributing them is much more illegal than having them. This is why you cannot tell anyone you sold them to me, on pain of death.”

  “I thought we took death off the table.”

  “You did. I didn’t. I only said it was unlikely. But if you ever tell anyone about this conversation, I will be forced to kill you instantly. And it will be a very painful death. You will scream and beg for mercy. Which I will not give you.”

  “You’re joking.”