- 38:30... Subjects stopped at street vendor. Pink girl purchased akokiya from street vendor, used credits from boy. Boy tried some, reluctant at first. Girl ate most of it, happily. Robot watched. Girl seems more experienced with Sasuga than boy. Seems unfamiliar with Sasugan customs, very curious, looks about as he walks. Girl seems accustomed to Sasugan culture, though ignores most conventions and rules. Sasugans seem afraid to correct her.
-39:99... Subjects meet with young Sasugan girl. Seems shy, somewhat fearful of pink girl. Looks at boy when boy isn't looking. Stands closer to boy than would be normal for Sasugans. Seems to be guiding them. Pink girl relinquishes guide role, without giving up alpha status. Sasugan girl seems to defer to pink girl, but also looks to boy for approval. Robot follows.
00:34... Subjects eating at kibib restaurant. Sasugan girl orders for boy. Boy chokes on kibib. Both girls lean in to help boy. Boy waves okay, still choking. Older girl dominates, stops boy from choking. Sasugan girl watches, worried, forehead growing red (Sasugan crying/embarrassed). Pink girl makes joke. Boy looks apologetic, mindful of restaurant attendees, staff watching. Sasugan girl stares at lap.
***
The assassin stepped out from behind a bush after watching Isellia, Joey and Ayuuk enter the Sasugan house. Her black stiletto heels, capable of making a terribly loud clack when forcibly applied to a hard surface, glided over the station's streets noiselessly as she walked. In fact, despite her stunning beauty, she rarely gained notice of the station's inhabitants — unless she wanted to. At her level of skill, it was something she no longer needed to think about.
She found herself at a Sasugan watering hole, the front adorned in classic Sasugan accoutrements, multi-colored paper lamps which cast a dim, romantic light on small, cascading water falls. The sign was a traditional paper one — the kind Sasugans only use for decorations — with a single character written in a unnecessarily fancy script. The traditional Sasugan decor juxtaposed with the station's modernity — the district sparkled in bright, laser-lit signs advertising all manner of intoxicants from across the quadrant, including the assassin's favorite: Shoukolotto.
Her well-toned backside found the farthest barstool in the room and settled delicately into it, but not without gaining the leering notice of a few of the bar's inhabitants.
"Her drink's on me," bellowed the voice of an unusually large Flaigin (non-Sasugan), nearly stumbling over a barstool while making his way to her side. He looked mostly human, but would have been about the size of the largest of that species. Flaigins had large, protruding foreheads. They enjoyed headbutting, and being on the receiving end often proved fatal.
"No thanks," the assassin said. "I buy my own drinks."
The Flaigin's wide grin narrowed into a grimace in the way put-off drunks are known for, a painfully slow reaction she waited for patiently. "What did you say?" he asked indignantly. The room's other inhabitants, many foreigners, and a few Sasugans, stopped what they were doing, and watched.
"I don't repeat myself," she said. Then turning to the bartender, "Shoukolotto, please," she said to the bartender in Sasugan. She looked around the small shoko joint, taking in the rest of the scene. The other bar patrons pretended to go back to their drinks, though they kept her in sight in the corner of their eyes, waiting for what they knew would be a confrontation.
"Hey, where do you get off ignoring me?" The ruffian grabbed at her shirt, failed to gain a hold on the tight, shiny black material, and nearly fell over himself. The assassin looked down, noticing a small scratch on the otherwise flawless material. A slight frown found her face, and the bartender and some of the other patrons who were familiar with her grew anxious and unconsciously backed away, knowing what was coming.
The ruffian recovered his balance, and stood up so that he was looking right into the assassins face. "No one refuses a drink from me." He pointed his thumb at his chest proudly. "I'm wanted in several star systems, you know." He grinned, his eyes visually caressed her impossibly smooth cheek. "Maybe I should teach you some manners — make you beg to buy me a drink."
The threat drifted by the assassin's face like a blustering breeze, not finding a grip to hold on to. She gazed into his face, seemingly out of curiosity more than anything. Her eyes held the quiet intensity of a cool breeze.
Another patron, an older human, put his hand on the ruffian, attempting to step in between them. The assassin looked surprised for the first time during the encounter, though it passed like a ripple on the surface of water as she reassessed the situation.
"Hey, this ain't where it’s at, pal," the old man said impossibly loud, and with a slight quiver. He had a shock of grey hair that shot out of his scalp like he'd just been electrocuted, and a few of his yellowed teeth seemed to have left his mouth long ago. His laughter dominated the room, the assassin remembered from previous visits, and his grin appeared to be plastered to his face. He generally appeared good-natured enough, though, and that was enough for her.
"What the hell do you care?" the ruffian blurted, turning to him. "You wanna die too?"
The assassin could see the tension in the old man as he trembled slightly, but stood his ground and seemed determined. "Hey, I don't know, I'm just some guy in a chair, but far as I know, threatening women, that ain’t no way to go, buddy. I think it’s time you left.”
The ruffian looked like he was about to say something, but the assassin cut him off, putting her hand on the old man's arm — immediately his whole body relaxed and his nervousness disappeared. He looked at her with complete confusion. “Thank you, but I have this under control. Please have a seat.”
The old man looked confused, though he felt strangely calm, but didn't have time to reply. The Flaigin shoved him back, and the old man toppled over in a heap, where he lay on the floor. He struggled to get up.
"Yeah, see! That’s what happens” The ruffian guffawed, turning to the assassin. "Now, for you—" but when he looked back at the assassin, her gaze was directly on him, and a fierceness in her eyes gave him pause. Her look was often enough to send paralyzing fear into the hearts of most creatures, but the Flaigin was experienced and recovered his composure. The other bar's patrons now didn’t attempt to disguise their interest, and watched openly.
The ruffian never figured out how he made it to the floor, exactly, though he would puzzle over it for some time afterward. He remembered taking a swing at the assassin, faster than most, a blow that would put most his size and smaller, and even bigger, on the floor. He vaguely remembered the feeling of expecting to find human flesh and instead his fist finding only air, a brief feeling before he hit the floor. The bar's staff left him there as he slept, and he woke the next day finding a note that simply said: “Never come here again.”
The assassin helped the old man off the floor, handling him as gently as she was harsh on the attacker. She helped him to his barstool, and he mostly stared at her in amazement - although his perpetual grin sort of lent itself to a look of constant bewilderment.
She looked him over, touched him in a few places while she breathed deeply and deliberately (the old man was afraid to take any pleasure from this), then patted him on the back. "Thank you for your bravery. It was kind of you to risk your safety for my sake.”
The man had often complained of aches and pains — yet even after the spill he took, he felt better than he had in years.
The man stared at her, his wonderment twisting his face into an unnatural expression. "Are you some kind of angel?" he asked in the booming voice that carried over the quiet murmurs of the room.
She turned and walked back to where the bartender had set her drink. “Not a chance,” she said, giving him one last grin. She took the Shoukolotto, emptying it in one gulp, and threw more credits on the counter than the drink cost. "This should cover mine and the old man's drink, and for dealing with the fellow on the floor," she said in Sasugan to the bartender.
"Did you kill him?" the old man asked as she stepped by him.
She stoppe
d, and without turning around. “No, he’s quite fine,” she said. “When he wakes up tomorrow, he might wish I had.” The assassin walked out the door, every eye in the room watching her go. She gracefully strode through the door, fading into the station's nightlife with little notice. For the rest of Ray's life, he would remember the clicking sound her heels made when she left the bar — and would tell the story to anyone with a drink who would listen.
***
Joey folded one of his shirts absently as he looked out the window of the tall Sasugan building in which they'd stayed for the last three days. Most of that time was spent following Isellia around the station's bustling city, dodging traders and business people, avoiding the merchants who tried to lure them into shops to buy things they never knew they needed but suddenly felt compelled to buy. The last day out was nearly as dizzying as the first, and the feeling of being constantly overwhelmed with a barrage of stimuli never seemed to subside, though he had started learn to filter it out. The people he saw must have developed that filter, he thought, because they didn't share his look of awe every time he turned a corner.
The shirt he folded was brand new — he held a deep, dark green shirt he'd seen in a store window the day before. He had stood admiring it awhile and had nearly lost Isellia in the shuffle until she came back to drag him away. It was dark green with a black, jagged line running horizontally across the front. Joey didn't really care much for clothes but for some reason he liked it.
He probably wouldn't have bought it on his own. He passed the store again, and the shirt was gone. So he was surprised later to find a neatly wrapped package on his bed the next day. No note. No explanation. Only Isellia and Ayuuk were with him. He wasn't sure when he'd wear the shirt. He didn't want to get it dirty. It was something he didn't normally think about.
He looked up to see Ayuuk smiling at him through the doorway. She blushed when he turned to see her, though her smile remained. She made a clawing motion toward him, almost like a cat pawing at a string, then quickly darted away.
Joey didn't know if it was a girl thing, or a Sasugan thing. He shrugged.
***
Joey, Porter, Isellia, Rex, Stephen, and the robot stood in the entranceway of the house of their Sasugan host family. It was a traditional Sasugan parting ritual, to line up ready to thank their host for their hospitality during their stay. Joey fidgeted nervously, as did Stephen, since neither had any idea what was expected of them. As such, Joey's eyes kept darting between the more knowing members of the party, watching them for cues to follow.
Their hostess stood across from them, her thin, pale figure something Joey still wasn't quite used to, though it was something he no longer found shocking. Ayuuk stood behind her mother, a little bolder than earlier but still demure, holding a package she stared at shyly without daring to look up. She held a neatly wrapped box — was that for him? Was that a clue that the shirt had also been from her, or a clue that it was Isellia because this is what she's giving him? Why would it be for him in the first place? Maybe it's for the rest of the crew.
Isellia lacked Joey's curiosity, instead waiting impatiently for the start of what she knew would be a long ritual. "Here's an hour out of my life," she murmured, tapping her foot and blowing the bangs out of her eyes.
"It really takes an hour?" Joey whispered to her out of the corner of his mouth, happy to break the tension of waiting.
"Feels like it," she said, rolling her eyes.
Porter had been talking to their hostess, the Sasugan conversation unintelligible and inaudible to the other members of the party. Finally they exchanged salutes, and Porter took his place in the line.
"Joey, Stephen, just follow along and try to do what we do," Porter said. "Don't worry about getting it perfect, just show that you are trying your hardest. They appreciate it."
"That goes for you too, Isellia." Isellia made a derisive noise and rolled her eyes. Porter knew she would get through it as best she could, despite her attitude.
Porter resumed his stance in the line, but thinking of something, looked back. "You too, robot."
"Robot is programed with proper disengagement protocols," the robot answered.
"He meant try your best," Joey whispered.
"Robot does not try. Robot does."
"Anyway," Porter suggested, "let's begin."
What followed was a series of bows, gestures, spins and even a few shouts, the words of which Joey could hardly pronounce, let alone understand. The words were from an archaic form of Sasugan, words lost to everyday speech and only know for their role in ceremonious occasions such as these, which Sasugan culture has no shortage of.
After the final clap ended the ritual, Joey scanned everyone's faces, searching for approval or otherwise. Instead, he caught Ayuuk's face, who had been intently staring at him, but quickly dropped her gaze as their eyes met.
The hostess seemed to nudge Ayuuk forward, and she looked back briefly before shuffling in front of Joey. Her eyes never left the package she held through trembling hands. She stood there for a minute, seemingly unable to say anything, just staring down at her hands.
Ayuuk looked back at her mother a moment. "It's your decision," Fina said in Sasugan.
Then suddenly she thrust the object upward toward Joey's face, nearly shouting "Maramonoani!"
Joey looked blankly at the package Ayuuk held outstretched in front of him — a black lacquer box wrapped in ribbon, inches from his face. He looked at the others quizzically, not sure at all what was expected of him. Rex snorted and the others seemed to be stifling the smile one finds when watching a rite of passage.
Isellia giggled at his side. "You better open it," she nudged, elbowing him in the ribs.
Joey's face turned red as he realized all eyes were on him, watching what he would do next. He took the box, looked at it a bit, turning it in his hand and looking at it from multiple angles. Ayuuk now had her hands at her side, and was staring at the floor.
“Oh jeezuz, open it, you dolt!” Isellia said, impatient to see what she knew was coming.
He carefully opened the box, pulling out the contents so everyone could see.
"Oh," Isellia exclaimed, “A Farsia cookie and an Okko ribbon." She seemed to be stifling a giggle, for reasons entirely unknown to Joey. The grin of inside knowledge found just about everyone’s face besides his, making Joey even more uncomfortable.
Joey put the cookie and the ribbon back in the box and closed the lid, moving the box to one of his pockets. "Thanks," he said, as Ayuuk looked up at him in anticipation of his reply. "I'm sure it's a great cookie."
Joey smiled, thinking that was the end of it, but was interrupted by the sharp pain of Isellia's fist bruising his arm as he tried to pocket the box. "Joey, you idiot! You have to eat the cookie and tie the ribbon on your wrist!"
"Right now?"
Isellia rolled her eyes. "No, next week. Jeez!"
Joey was starting to become exasperated with the whole ritual. He kind of just wanted to hide on the ship, which seemed like a refuge compared with all this silliness.
Joey looked down at Ayuuk, whose gaze never left the ground. Her normally pale face was completely red. He looked at the box again, took out the cookie, and looked around at everyone again before took a bite of it. It tasted pretty good, though he made a show of it being the tastiest thing he'd ever ingested. He then tied the ribbon on his wrist, with Isellia instructing impatiently. Isellia looked on with glee, seemingly noting which wrist he'd put the ribbon on.
For the first time Ayuuk looked up at him, smiling brighter than he'd seen. She touched the ribbon a moment, a touch so gentle Joey barely felt it as she looked at him. Then she then turned and fled, disappearing from the room. Joey stood, holding the box, completely bewildered. His face was bright red, and he was at loss for speech.
Isellia turned to the robot. "Malfunction?"
The robot computed a moment. "Affirmative."
The others filed out the room, chuckling as they walked. Joey
stood a moment longer, shaking his head before turning to board the ship, unaware that Ayuuk was still watching him from behind a doorway.
***
Joey stood with his bag in the cargo bay, awaiting his next orders and trying to put into perspective everything that had just happened. His first trip off-world had been both more than he could imagine and not at all what he'd expected. So much had happened, he almost felt like he didn't have time to really take it all in.
He thought about Ayuuk, his first foreign friend. Ayuuk seemed attached to him, as far as he could tell, though he really couldn't understand her entirely. She spoke very little to him, though he noticed she looked at him a lot. She always seemed to be addressing another member of the party when she spoke, but he noticed she seemed to look for his reaction, while trying not to appear to be doing so.
He looked at the ribbon tied to his hand. It was blue, with an interweaving, tribal design that seemed to transform from gold to silver as it caught the light. Sasugan lettering lined its edges. He hadn’t thought about it at the time but started to realize it must be expensive. He wondered if it was some kind of friendship bracelet.
"Enjoy your first off-world trip?" Isellia asked, interrupting his thoughts.
He looked up, putting his hand down by his side as if hiding the blue ribbon. He couldn’t have said why he did this.
"Yeah, I guess."
"You guess? Either you liked it or you didn’t,” Isellia said, rolling her eyes. She was fumbling with a panel next to him on the ship.
"So, what's next?" Joey asked. He could have pointed out that they had spent most of the time fulfilling Isellia's "shopping list,” but decided to remain silent on that point.
Robot Awareness: Special Edition Page 9
