by Geoff Rodkey
Then the noise hit me—an earsplitting shriek so painful that I clapped my hands over my ears. Even with them covered, the noise was so loud and aggravating that it started to make me nauseous. The rest of my family had the same reaction:
“OW!”
“AAAAGH!”
“PLEASE, STOP!”
Ulf paused the video and pointed at the screen with the remote. “All the Nug on the planet—every single one—gathered in the middle of the city and slithered all over each other while they screamed their heads off.”
I stared closely at the screen. What I’d thought was a huge pool of black liquid turned out to be a writhing pile of giant, wormlike Nug.
“And this Festival of Wailing went on for ten days?” Dad asked. “That horrible noise lasted ten whole days?”
“It would have,” said Hunf. “Except that on the fourth day, a swarm of angry Zhuri killed every last Nug.”
Mom gasped. I’m pretty sure I did too, but the noise was drowned out by Ila’s high-pitched whimper.
“It wasn’t intentional,” said Ulf. “Even the Zhuri who were in the swarm probably didn’t set out to cause a massacre. I don’t mean to excuse what they did, because intentional or not, it was monstrous—but it’s very difficult to explain in words just how painful the Festival of Wailing was for everyone but the Nug. We lived miles away, and even at that distance, their screams were so intolerable that they made us physically ill.”
“The sounds were even more painful to the Zhuri,” Hunf said. “And the government did everything it could to persuade the Nug to stop. But once they were locked into their ritual, it was impossible to talk to them, let alone get them to quit screaming.”
“The government did its best to stop the swarm from forming too,” added Ulf. “But the Zhuri are a hive species—once their swarms get going, they take on a life of their own.”
“Even in a non-hive species,” said Hunf, “large groups of people—especially angry or frightened ones—behave in ways individuals never would. Sometimes they wind up doing things that are incredibly tragic and stupid. Not to mention violent. That’s what happened here. It was a kind of mass sickness. And when it was over, the Zhuri were horrified at themselves. They’d invited a whole species to their planet, with the best of intentions, thinking they were doing the Nug a great kindness…only to see an angry mob of their own people slaughter them in a fit of rage. Within days, Choom’s government had changed hands, and the traditionalists took over.”
“It made sense,” said Ulf. “When your government’s policies have caused a massacre, accidental or not, it’s wise to change course.” She shook her head. “But then they started this silly business of trying to suppress emotion.”
“Zhuri swarms are triggered by the anger smell,” Hunf explained. “And the government wanted to stop swarms from ever forming again. But they somehow got it in their heads that the best way to do that would be to suppress all smells. They thought if they could just shut down their whole society’s emotional responses, the result would be peace and agreement forever.”
“It’s completely misguided, of course,” said Ulf. “And doomed to fail, eventually. The Zhuri aren’t terribly emotional to begin with—but even so, they can’t eliminate their emotions any more than we can. Still, I suspect they’ll keep plodding along with that stupid policy for a few more decades, because they really do believe it’s the best thing for the planet. The poor fools.”
“So where does that leave humans?” Mom asked.
“Not in a good place at all, I’m afraid,” said Ulf. “The progressive government invited you here. But the traditionalists are in charge now. And if your great achievement as a species is art—well, that just terrifies them, because it’s the same thing the Nug said, and look how that turned out. So they want you gone.”
“But they’re conflicted,” Hunf added, “because the government did invite you here—and they can’t bear to think they might be responsible for the demise of a second species. So they’ve decided to play up your violence as a way of putting all the blame on you for things not working out.”
“Is that why the television keeps showing images of human wars?” Dad asked.
“Of course. As long as ‘everyone agrees’ you’re a threat to their safety, the public will demand your removal. The government can get rid of you without feeling as if they’ve broken their promise.”
We were silent for a minute, trying to work out what all of this meant.
“So what can we do,” Mom finally asked, “except try to hold out until the government changes hands again?”
Hunf shook his head. “I’m afraid that’s impossible. There’s some whispered disagreement here and there with the government—there always is—but nothing like what it would take for power to change hands. Zhuri governments tend to last a hundred years or more. This one’s been in power for less than twenty. You can’t hold out for eighty years—in your situation, even eighty days would be a miracle. I hate to say it, but I don’t think you’ve got long at all.”
Ulf reached out and patted Mom on the leg with her giant hand. “We’re terribly sorry. You seem like a nice species. It’s just very bad timing.”
“Best of luck to you, though,” added Hunf. “Have you tried any other planets?”
* * *
—
IT WAS TOUGH to keep the conversation going after that, because my whole family was too shocked and depressed for small talk. A few minutes later, our two armed guards knocked on the door—they’d finally caught up after Marf had ditched them back at our place—and we decided to get a ride home from them in their pod. Before we left, Ulf and Hunf gave us enough Ororo food to last a couple of days.
“If you ever need more,” Ulf said, “just let Marf know. And don’t let her charge you for it.”
We thanked them for being so generous, but I couldn’t help wondering if they’d only given us a couple of days’ worth because they didn’t think we’d be here any longer than that.
Once we were airborne in a standard-issue pod, which felt dreary and slow after Marf’s luxury rocket ride, Ila turned off her translator so the guards couldn’t understand her.
“Are we going to leave now,” she asked Mom with an edge in her voice, “or are we just going to wait for them to kill us?”
Mom turned off her own translator. “Nobody’s going to kill anybody.”
“How can you say that? They swarmed us the second we got here! How long before we end up like those poor worms?”
I switched off my own translator. “That was different. The Nug’s screams were hurting people. We’re not hurting anybody.”
Ila just snorted and shook her head.
“Lan’s right,” Mom said. “And we’ve got things to offer them too. When we were negotiating with the Zhuri before we left Mars, they were so excited about our art. I bet a lot of them still are. It’s just that now their government doesn’t want them exposed to it.”
“Marf told me it’s illegal to spread videos that cause emotion,” I said. “Like, if we sold a Birdleys episode to people, that’d be illegal. Because they’re meant to be funny.”
“Well, that’s a problem, isn’t it?” Ila snarled.
“Just videos, though, right?” Dad asked me. “It’s not illegal to cause emotions—it’s just illegal to sell a video that tries to cause them?”
I shrugged. “I think so? Maybe?”
“There’s got to be a way around that,” Mom said.
“I’m pretty sure the Zhuri like to laugh,” I said. “Even though it’s not polite.”
Mom looked at me. “Really? Say more.”
“The kids in my class laughed at me today in school. When I tripped over something. They made this really sweet doughnut smell.”
“YEEEHEEEEEEE.” One of the guards flitted up off his seat.
The guard lifted his pronged weapon just enough to get his point across.
“Maybe you should try to make them laugh,” Mom told me before she turned on her translator. “Just don’t put it in a video.”
ILA WOULDN’T GET out of bed the next morning. When Mom and Dad couldn’t rouse her, they sent me into her bedroom to take a shot at it.
She was on her side, curled up in a ball. Her arms were clasped together and bent in front of her chest like she was praying. I could see the little ripples of the mattress gently massaging her bottom arm.
“C’mon, Ila, let’s go to school. Iruu was really disappointed when you weren’t there yesterday. If you don’t show up, he’s going to take it personally.”
She opened her eyes, but she didn’t move. “They would’ve killed me,” she said.
“What?”
“If I’d sung when we landed. Like Mom and Dad wanted me to. The Zhuri would’ve killed me. Just like they killed the Nug.”
“That’s ridiculous! The Nug weren’t singing. They were screaming. It was like they were stabbing people in the ear. Your voice is beautiful. The Zhuri would’ve been thrilled if you sang. I bet they still would.”
“No, they wouldn’t.”
“Yes, they would! Did you know Marf and Ezger watched your Pop Singer videos? They loved them.” It was only half-true, but I figured Marf would cover for me if Ila asked.
Ila raised her head a little. “When did they watch them?”
“The other day. When Marf took your screen home.”
For a moment I thought she was going to get up. But then she let her head sink back onto the mattress.
“It doesn’t matter. They’re not Zhuri.”
After that, nothing I said could get my sister to move. In the end I went to school alone again.
* * *
—
WHEN I GOT into the pod with the two guards, one of them made a little flitting motion, like he was excited to see I was alone. The other one hung his head.
“Does this mean you get the day off, sir?” I asked the flitter.
He didn’t answer me, but the other one let off a little whiff of anger, and I knew I was right.
Halfway to school, my phone beeped with a message from Naya:
R U being a good doggie?
I messaged back:
SUCH a good doggie! I have been licking everybody’s face
The transport must’ve been orbiting right above us, or close to it, because her reply showed up just a few seconds later, and we started an almost-in-real-time conversation:
Eeew that is gross mental image what do their compound eyes taste like?
Raspberries with a little hint of nachos
MIND BLOWN
tbh I have not actually licked anybody pretty sure it is considered rude
Srsly tho how is it going???
Mom had warned me more than once to stay positive when I talked to anybody on the ship, so I couldn’t type The government wants to get rid of us, the TV news lies about us 24/7, somebody puked poisonous venom on Dad, there are protestors everywhere, and my sister won’t get out of bed because she’s sure they’re going to kill us.
But I didn’t want to lie to my best friend. So I tried to turn the conversation back to Naya:
It’s ok. I’ve made one good friend so far—an Ororo
(They are the giant marshmallow-looking people)
How are you??? What’s going on up there???
Honestly?
When I saw that one-word reply, it kicked up a little flutter of fear in my stomach. Then Naya’s next message came through, and the flutter got ten times worse:
It’s getting bad up here
People r scared and angry
Feels like it did before the food riot
That was the last thing I wanted to hear. I stared at her words for so long without replying that Naya sent another message:
Sorry don’t mean to freak you out
We’ll be okay
I realized I was being the opposite of positive by not answering, so I sent a flurry of replies back:
No it’s fine
I’m so sorry to hear that
DO NOT WORRY
We’re going to win them over and make this work
They will let u all land if I have to lick every single Zhuri to make it happen
RUFF RUFF DO NOT WORRY WE GOT THIS!!!
Then it was my turn to stare at the screen while I waited for Naya to reply.
OK cool I know you will do great
WHO’S A GOOD DOGGIE?
LAN’S A GOOD DOGGIE!
Keep on lickin’ ruff ruff I love you
The scariest part of the whole message was the I love you. Naya wasn’t the type to get emotional like that unless she was seriously freaked out. I ended the conversation with:
Love you too almost at school now g2g bye!!!
SERIOUSLY DON’T WORRY WE GOT THIS!!!
Then I put my screen away and tried not to think about what would happen if we failed and the Zhuri threw us out.
* * *
—
IRUU MET ME in the lobby. “Good morning, Lan!” he said. “Is Ila not coming again today?”
The cartoon-frog sound of his voice signature made me smile. “Hello, Iruu! It is great to see you! I am so sorry, but Ila stayed home. She is not feeling well.”
He hung his head. “I am sorry too. It pleases me to be helpful to her. I also receive extra credit for it from my learning specialist.”
I looked around. “Have you seen Hooree?”
“Not today, no. Do you need help finding your class?”
“Would you receive extra credit if you escorted me instead?”
“Yes, I would.”
“Then please do! It will be very helpful to me!”
“Thank you!”
I didn’t need the help, but I was glad for Iruu’s company, even if he was getting bribed to provide it. It was nice knowing at least one Zhuri in the school was willing to talk to me.
“Can I ask you a question, Iruu?” My guard was trailing behind us as we walked down the crowded hallway, and the whine of other voices was loud enough that I didn’t think he could hear our conversation.
“Of course! Answering questions is what guides are for.”
“Do you like to laugh?”
“Some people think laughter is okay.”
“But what do you think?”
“I think…” He rubbed his wings together. “That I agree with those people,” he said in a low whine.
“And…what percentage of all the Zhuri on the planet…do you think would also agree?”
The wing rubbing got a lot worse. “Everyone agrees—that is, some people—I think—some people think—”
“Never mind! I’m sorry if it was a difficult question.” He looked very uncomfortable, and I didn’t want to make him upset. Besides, we’d reached my classroom door. “Thank you so much for walking me to class!”
“You are very welcome!” Iruu stopped rubbing his wings and folded them against his back. It looked like the Zhuri equivalent of a big sigh of relief.
“Goodbye! I hope to see you at lunch!” I started to walk into my class, but he stopped me with a loud whine.
“Lan human?”
“Yes, Iruu?”
“Some of our learning specialists say it is good to ask questions. Even if they are hard to answer.”
“Thank you for saying that, Iruu! You are a good friend.” I smiled at him, and he flitted up off his feet a couple of inches in response.
That made me feel good, but the feeling didn’t last long. As I walked to my seat, I tried to make eye cont
act and smile at all my classmates. They all ignored me except for Ezger, who grunted in reply when I said hello. Just before I sat down, I caught Hooree’s eye, and he rubbed his wings together and turned away.
The lesson began, and Yurinuri picked up where he’d left off the morning before, using his laser marker to write a totally incomprehensible math equation on the wall screen. “Who would like to solve this for urm?” he asked the class.
A Zhuri kid raised his hand, and as I watched him bounce-walk up to the front of the class, wriggle his head, and scratch out an answer, a thought occurred to me.
What if I do that?
It seemed absurdly simple to imitate a Zhuri. And it might be hilarious.
At least, it might be to a human. Would the Zhuri find it funny? Would they make that fresh-baked doughnut smell?
I watched as a few more Zhuri kids bounced up to the front of the room to write on the screen, then either flitted back to their stools with pride or hung their heads in shame.
If I went up there, I had no prayer of getting the answer right. I didn’t even know what the questions meant.
Maybe I could make that part funny too.
Try to make them laugh. That’s what Mom had said.
The more I thought about raising my hand, the more scared I got. It seemed like a long shot. And if it backfired on me, I might get in serious trouble.
Then again, if there was one place where it might be okay to screw up, it was probably in Yurinuri’s class. He seemed like he wanted me to succeed, and he’d probably forgive a mistake if it wasn’t too enormous.
I decided to take my chances. When Yurinuri drew the next equation on the screen, I put my hand in the air. He drew his head back in surprise.
“Lan human? Can you solve for urm?”
“I can try, sir!” I sprang to my feet. Slowly, I walked to the front of the room, taking long strides and bending my knees deep with each one, then bobbing up with a little hitch like the Zhuri did.
