Human-Centaur Relations

by Jack Doe

  "He? Do mentors have to be stallions?" Bryce asked.

  Anul'thek shook his head. "He or she," he corrected himself. Bryce nodded.

  "The mentor will continue to teach the foal whatever he can about things that interest him, and he will try to pass that interest to the foal. Sometimes it works. My sire got me very interested in mankind, and my mentor has helped focus that interest. And now here I am," he said, beaming. His enthusiasm rubbed off on the humans, and they grinned. "Not all foals share their mentors' interests, though," he said, "and so they may choose a new mentor. Mentors do not take it personally; they understand that foals are fickle and may not know what interests them. Because foals from a very young age are encouraged to pursue whatever interests them, they often maintain that unbridled enthusiasm for what they do." Bryce's eyes lit up: he knew what Anul'thek meant. "Life is joyous," Anul'thek said reverently. "And because we strive to keep it that way, as soon as we lose interest in something, we pursue something else."

  "Life's too short to be miserable," Charles mused.

  "Exactly," Anul'thek replied. "Aside from harvesting and planting, there is nothing a centaur is required to do. He does what he is passionate about doing. The things he discovers, he is excited to share. Anything he finds benefits society, and discoveries come at their own pace."

  "So, how does a centaur get rich?" Bryce asked.

  "Rich?" Anul'thek asked.

  "Yeah, rich," Bryce repeated. "You know, powerful, lots of money, lots of stuff..." he trailed off, then gave a sheepish grin. "Centaurs have no desire for any of those things, do they?"

  Anul'thek chuckled. "We have all the food we could ever want, right at our fingertips. Endless fields of orchards and vineyards and fields of grass as far as the eye can see. All we need to do to be wealthy beyond imagination is reach out and pick the fruit." His eyes shone with happiness. "We have an endless supply of good drinks—and let me tell you, some of our people have made them very strong! Those who produce the drinks are glad to share them, because were it not for everybody's hard work, they would not have the fruits from which to make the drinks, and they take joy from sharing their passions. What good is a passion if you never share it?" He frowned, thinking.

  "Take a wonderful piece of art," he said. "My ancestor once created a huge piece of art here on earth at the place we call De'ru. He made a huge circle of earth with a little path into it. Inside, he placed a big circle of huge stones, some standing straight up, others laid on top. Inside was a horseshoe of stones: his signature. Our ancestors didn't plant any fruits there; it was like a..." He fumbled for a word. "Garden of rocks?"

  "A rock garden," Bryce mused, frowning. "Wait, you said it was a big circle of earth, then a circle of vertical stones, then a horseshoe of stones?"

  "Yes," Anul'thek said. "Why?"

  "Where is De'ru?" Bryce asked eagerly.

  Anul'thek frowned. "It should be close to here," he said. "That's why this location was chosen for my landing. My people wanted to come back to our original homeland. I don't know exactly where it is, or if it's still there."

  Bryce grinned from ear to ear. When he spoke, his voice was breathless and trembling. "I think I know where it is," he said. "I work at the monument."

  Anul'thek did a double-take. "You do?" he asked eagerly. Onboard the ship, there was great commotion as the historians and art historians pushed forward to see what was going on.

  Bryce held up his phone again. "Don't touch anything," he said wryly. "Is that it?" A map of Stonehenge was pulled up on the screen.

  "Is that it?" Anul'thek asked the ship. After a moment of heated debate, the historians came to the unanimous conclusion that it was, in fact, the piece at De'ru.

  "It is." Anul'thek said with wonder. "I'm sorry," he said, "but I have to lie down." He quickly dropped to the floor and panted, his head swimming with excitement and untold emotions that he never dreamt he'd feel all at once. Onboard the ship, it was silent as everybody took in the magnitude of what they'd just learned: they were home, and some of their art still stood somewhere. Nobody knew who started it, but a cheer slowly rose amongst the centaurs. Anul'thek regained his composure and stood again.

  "I'm sorry," he said again. "Today has been a day of many exciting discoveries for my people, and it's a lot to take in all at once."

  Bryce and Charles nodded understanding. "Take all the time you need," Charles said. He glanced at the clock, which read 2:00 AM. "Speaking of time! Bryce, you've got to go to work tomorrow!"

  Bryce looked at the clock and gasped. "Oh, bugger!"

  "You can't give the excuse of having a centaur drop in on you for being late," Charles said wryly. Bryce shook his head and glanced at Anul'thek.

  "What do we do with him?" he asked his grandfather.

  Charles thought about it. "If you'd like," he said to Anul'thek, "you're welcome to stay here, out of sight, until we can figure out what to do."

  Anul'thek nodded. "I would very much like to see your Stonehenge," he said.

  Bryce cringed. "I'd love to show it to you," he said, "but we'll have to figure out a way to get you there without you being seen." Anul'thek nodded.

  "For tonight, though," Charles said firmly, "Bryce has got to get rested." The others nodded. "My bed is bigger," Charles offered, "if you would like to use it."

  Anul'thek shook his head. "My people do not use beds," he said. "If it's all right, right here is just fine for me." He gestured to the floor of the living-dining room. Charles held up his hands helplessly. "If that's what you'd like," he said uncertainly. "Can I at least get you a blanket?"

  Anul'thek shook his head again. "No, it is quite comfortable, but thank you very much for your hospitality," he said. He turned to Bryce with a rueful grin. "I promise I won't spy on you tonight," he said earnestly.

  "Uh, thanks," Bryce said, somewhat uncomfortably, yet with a hint of intrigue.

  The three went their separate ways, Charles and Bryce to their beds, and Anul'thek lay on the floor where he was. "Rest easy," Ing'ma said to him. "You've done well." Anul'thek thanked his mentor and went to sleep. For the first time in many years, he had no nightmares.

  Charles and Bryce lay awake for some time, too excited about what had happened to sleep. Both fought the urge to go back in and look at Anul'thek, to see if he was still there, if he was real, but finally their bodies demanded sleep—Bryce from his fitful lack of sleep the night before, and Charles from decades of maintaining the same schedule—and humans and centaur finally dozed off into easy slumber.

  Chapter 11

  A loud, terrible noise startled Anul'thek awake, and he sprang to his feet, adopting a defensive stance. The noise continued. The two humans stirred. Bryce groaned, and the noise stopped. Cautiously, Anul'thek made his way to Bryce's room and poked his head inside.

  "What was that?" he asked breathlessly.

  The centaur's voice startled Bryce, who sat bolt upright, clutching the covers to his chest. "Oh, shit! There's someone in our house! Grandpa, wake up! There's someone in our house!"

  A thump came from Grandpa's room, and he rushed in wearing his boxers, a golf club in his hand.

  "Where?" he demanded.

  Bryce looked at him as if he were stupid. "You just passed him!"

  Grandpa glanced at Anul'thek, who shook his head and held his hands up defensively. "That's Anul'thek," Grandpa said, "The centaur who rescued you last night, remember?"

  Bryce did a double-take. "Oh," he said sheepishly. "I thought it was a dream."

  Grandpa and Anul'thek exchanged glances and burst out laughing.

  The noise happened again, and Anul'thek jumped, covering his ears. "What is that?!" he asked again.

  Bryce fumbled with his phone, and the noise stopped. "That's my alarm," he said. "It tells me when to get up."

  "Oh," Anul'thek replied, uncovering his ears. "It sounds absolutely terrible!"

  Bryce shrugged. "It's gotta get me up, and I sleep pretty hard." Anul'thek frowned.

  "
Why is it imperative that you get up right now?" he asked.

  "I have to go to work," Bryce replied. He glanced at his grandfather and at Anul'thek. "I could use some privacy," he said pointedly after a moment. Grandpa motioned, and Anul'thek followed him to the living room while Bryce got ready for work.

  "What is this 'work' that you keep talking of?" Anul'thek asked, "And why does it involve loud noises?"

  "We don't have endless orchards," Charles said, gesturing out the window. "We get our food from stores."

  "Stores?"

  "Places that will give you things you want in exchange for money."

  "Like markets?" Anul'thek asked. The centaurs remembered that ancient mankind had started using markets to exchange goods.

  "Yes, like markets," Charles replied. "To afford this cabin, my car, –"

  "Car?"

  Charles pointed out the window at the machine Anul'thek had hidden behind the other day. Anul'thek nodded. "Why do you need it?" he asked.

  "It gets us places faster," Charles replied. "It lets us go long distances without getting tired."

  "It's like a spaceship, but stuck on the ground," Ing'ma said in Anul'thek's head. Anul'thek nodded.

  "It's a long way into town," Charles explained, "and the car lets me get there in an hour instead of in several days, and I can carry things back with me that I couldn't carry by hand." Anul'thek nodded again.

  "Anyway, to afford a car, this cabin, our food, our utilities, we have to have money."

  "What are utilities?"

  "Water, electricity, gas for heat, sewer," Charles replied.

  "You have to pay for those?" Anul'thek asked.

  Charles frowned. "Yes. We have to pay for just about everything. Bryce's phone, Bryce's education, his bicycle: they all cost money."

  "I understand," Anul'thek replied. "And a job gives you money?"

  "Yes," Charles replied. "Some jobs pay more than other jobs do."

  "Why is that?" Anul'thek asked. "Are all jobs not equally important?"

  Charles considered his response. "No, and no," he said after a moment. "There are jobs that are actually important, like producing food: without food, we can't live. There are jobs that aren't actually important, like entertainment."

  "Entertainment?"

  "Movies, sports, music, stuff like that."

  "People get paid to do that?"

  "Yes, and in some cases, they get paid a whole lot to do that."

  Anul'thek frowned. "Where I come from, those are things that people do for their own enjoyment, and if others enjoy it, too, so much the better."

  "We're a bit different," Charles said. "We love to be entertained, and we pay a lot to do it." The anthropologists onboard the ship found this tidbit interesting.

  "So, you pay someone to make your food; you pay someone to provide your 'utilities,' you pay someone for your car; and you even pay someone to entertain you," Anul'thek said with a bit of confusion. "What do you do for yourselves?"

  "We do our jobs," Bryce said simply as he buttoned his sleeve cuffs. "For me, I give tours of Stonehenge. I used to check people's purchases at a convenience store."

  "Check purchases?"

  "Ring them up."

  Anul'thek gave a blank stare.

  Bryce fished for an explanation. "When people come to the store, they tell me what they want to buy, and I tell them how much it will cost. I collect their money and give them a receipt to show that they paid for it."

  "Why do they need a receipt?"

  "It proves that they paid for it."

  "Why would they take it if they didn't pay for it?"

  "Some people want to have things without paying for them," Bryce replied.

  Charles chimed in, "In some cases, people can't afford to pay for the things they want, and so they take them instead."

  "But what did those people do to earn those things?" Anul'thek asked, baffled. "A centaur helps plant, and he helps harvest; therefore, he gets to eat. It sounds like those people want to eat without helping?"

  Bryce nodded, but before he could say anything, Charles chimed in. "In many cases, that is the case, Anul'thek," he said. "Some people think they deserve to have something simply because they are here."

  "That was why they enslaved our people in the first place," Anul'thek said, suddenly getting it.

  Charles nodded solemnly. "Yes. Those people are still around today."

  The centaurs on the ship exchanged glances. The calculations had not made that part clear. This was very distressing news.

  "But they are not the only ones who take without payment," Charles continued. "Sometimes, people cannot get a job, which means they have no money. Or, they get a job, but it doesn't pay enough for basic necessities."

  Anul'thek frowned. "Why would you take a job that doesn't pay you to eat?"

  "Many people in our society believe it is better to work and not be paid enough than it is to not work and beg others to pay for you."

  "But..." Anul'thek asked, perplexed, "Why would someone offer a job that doesn't pay even for food and utilities? What does the person offering the job gain by not paying enough to live?"

  "Money," Bryce spat. "They get more money. More and more money."

  "At the expense of someone being able to eat?" Anul'thek asked, taken aback. "What good is money if your kin are starving?"

  "We tend to take a bit of a limited definition of 'kin,'" Charles replied. "Some people consider only their immediate families–their parents and siblings–as their kin. Some people take a broader sense and might include their grandparents and uncles, aunts, and cousins. Some people take an even more restricted view and might not consider anybody to be kin worth caring about. I don't think anybody considers a total stranger as kin."

  "You are a very selfish race," Anul'thek said without realizing it. Charles hung his head, and Bryce stiffened defensively. "I'm sorry," Anul'thek said. "I do not mean to pass judgment." He shifted his weight uncomfortably on his hooves.

  "You asked me last night about centaurs who do not want to help plant or harvest," he addressed Bryce, "but we had to go to bed." Bryce nodded, and Anul'thek sighed. "We drive them out," he said. Bryce and Charles both started.

  "That seems very violent for a race that avoids violence," Charles said thoughtfully.

  Anul'thek nodded. "Indeed, it is. Our maxims are very simple, and no centaur that I know of believes them to be overly restrictive. We all unanimously agree that they are beliefs worth upholding. There are many beliefs that some centaurs have that others do not, but these five are ones we all agree upon. If someone breaks one of these, we see that person as an outsider. When mankind enslaved our race, we saw him as an outsider, and just as we told mankind, we tell people who don't help society that they must fend for themselves. We exile them."

  The room was silent. "That's heavy," Bryce said at length.

  Anul'thek nodded. "As a result, centaurs with those views are very uncommon," he said. "Much of that mentality, we think, is passed from person to person. We don't know if it's hereditary or just a result of being around the person, but we wipe it out as soon as we see it. Foals are brought up believing that they should do their part, and our society celebrates people's contributions. It makes for a happy society without feeling oppressive."

  "What about your other maxims?" Bryce asked. "Are you that harsh about them, too?"

  Anul'thek bobbed his head side to side hesitantly. "We list them in descending order of importance," he said. "Not harming others is the most important one," he said. "It is extremely uncommon, but centaurs who deliberately harm others, we kill."

  The two human's eyes widened in shock. "Kill?" Bryce squeaked.

  Anul'thek's jaw tensed, and his breathing intensified, a snort issuing from his nostrils. His voice turned cold. "We have no tolerance for someone who deliberately harms another," he said. "There is no excuse. Such an act is so terribly offensive to every centaur that it drives us into righteous fury."

  "What about
a foal doing something out of youthful ignorance?" Charles asked worriedly.

  Anul'thek relaxed slightly. "We understand that foals sometimes do not understand the consequences of their actions," he said. "We quickly teach them why harming others is not acceptable. Most of them learn to have the same utter hatred of it as the adults from such teachings."