I looked at the two aliens, and frankly I couldn’t read their expressions. They didn’t seem angry, and they also didn’t seem surprised at his question, but when B’naah sat there, not saying anything, I figured I’d better step into the middle of this---and hope that I didn’t “step into” something really smelly.
“Perhaps I can shed some light on this, Simon,” I began, “since I’ve probably had more exposure and experience with the Yularians, and even the other three alien species, than any other human I know of. If I’m wrong, or if I offend my two couch-mates here, I’m sure they’ll let me know. Right, ladies?” The two vixens nodded, and I looked to Branch; he nodded, too. “Right, then.” I took a deep breath, then began.
“The four alien species in discussion don’t exactly hate us, Simon; they simply dislike some of the things we do. Humans are omnivores, meaning not only do we eat plant matter, we eat meat. Animal flesh. And to get that animal flesh we both hunt animals for food and we raise them to be slaughtered. That doesn’t bother three of the four alien species all that much since they, too, eat animal flesh. The Ar’kaa, however, are strict herbivores, and they find our customs of hunting the rabbits they so closely resemble, as well as raising rabbits for meat, fur---and for pets---to be abhorrent. Rabbit-like animals don’t exist on any other species’ worlds; only here, so while they resent that the other species eat meat, they really don’t like what we do to the creatures they so closely resemble.” I looked pointedly at the Yularians. “Right so far?” They blinked, then nodded.
Branch was about to say something, but I raised a hand to stop him. “But wait---there’s more!” Always wanted to do that. “While we don’t normally eat feline or mustelid meat, we do hunt the big felines for sport, keep them penned up in zoos for exhibition, ‘train’ them for performances in circuses, and breed and make pets out of the small ones. And with some of the big, wild ones, we also skin them for their beautiful pelts, to make vanity clothing. You can certainly understand how the proud, haughty cheetah-like Eelon might not look all that kindly upon humanity for that.” Branch’s eyes were huge as the impact of my words sunk in. “And that brings us to the otter-like Dralorians, whose entire world society revolves around---and in---the huge fresh-water oceans, rivers and lakes of their home world. They, too, aren’t all that thrilled with humanity’s treatment of their small, wild look-alike otter cousins, especially with the fact that we consider most otters to be ‘nuisance’ animals---to be killed on sight, or trapped and skinned for their luxurious pelts. Since humans don’t swim all that well, and since we often abuse our aquatic resources, Dralorians mostly look upon us with distain. Can you honestly blame them?”
I really felt sorry for my old friend, since every point I made seemed to hit him like a gut punch.
“But now we come to the Yularians, two of which are sitting right next to me---and without their incredible scientific expertise I most likely would be getting ready to take a long dirt nap. Yes, they seem to be related to our very own vulpine critters, and no, they don’t particularly like how we humans treat foxes as vermin---when we’re not hunting them for blood sport or trapping or raising them for their beautiful pelts. In our defense, at least we don’t eat them, although their canid cousins, the wolves, have dined on human meat all throughout history. Since much of my body was rebuilt while I was on their home world, it’s possible bits and pieces of the ‘old’ me wound up as ‘Tom McNuggets’ on some Yularians’ tables.” I laughed at Branch’s and Melton’s shocked faces, but my two vixen friends didn’t find my comment amusing at all.
“Tom, that did not happen!” the old physician barked indignantly, and L’raan bristled and yipped in outrage. “We used your discarded body parts strictly for research! Nothing more!” OK, time to defuse the situation.
“Peace, my friends!” I said, laughing and holding up my hands in surrender. “I was only kidding! Anyway, ‘sampling’ my old, decrepit body would have probably given the sampler a stomach ache!” The other two humans present laughed nervously, but it seemed I had touched a somewhat raw nerve with the Yularians. Hmmm…
“So no, Simon, our alien friends don’t find us all that ‘attractive’ for a number of reasons, and it may be a long time before those understandably raw issues are overshadowed by business or other social factors. Quite frankly, unless this rejuvenation process turns into a commercial success for the Yularians, and unless we find other lucrative financial enticements for the other three alien species, we may never become all that ‘friendly’ with any of them.”
Melton’s production crew was having fits to break for commercials, so we left it hanging there as the recording momentarily stopped. Or did it? I’d learned years earlier to never trust a video camera not to catch an off-hand gesture, a microphone to miss an off-hand remark, or an interviewer not to try to catch a guest off-guard. Therefore I kept my sharper comments and criticisms to myself. There were other reasons the aliens didn’t like humans, but I really didn’t want to air those in public. Mankind’s fanatic obsession with sex hadn’t played well among the stars.
Melton’s Five After Midnight show, like many others of its ilk, had a live stage band that kept the audience entertained during commercial breaks, and hosts and guests often partook of those musical interludes to take much-needed bathroom breaks, or to replenish their beverages. While guests and hosts seldom smoked on-camera these days, a few die-hard nicotine addicts used the breaks to quickly indulge their habits. Luckily, we three humans didn’t smoke, and I’d never seen any of the aliens of any species engage in the noxious habit. All of us, however, either sucked on drink straws or, in the cases of us humans, slurped our preferred beverages during the break. Like me, Simon Branch had a propensity toward good Scotch whiskey, and while I took a substantial pull on my own glass, I noted with amusement that he’d been handed his own chilled glass of amber-colored liquid, half of which he greedily downed before coming up for air. Melton used the opportunity to take another substantial belt of his own liquid poison, then quickly returned it to the under-desk shelf. The vixens drained their glasses of juice, and the stage crew quickly replaced the empties with refills.
And then it was time for the show to go on!
“Aaaaand…we’re back with tonight’s extra-special guests, the first human rejuvenation subject, noted science-fiction author Tom Barnes, the Yularian scientist who performed the procedure on Mr. Barnes, Doctor N’looma and her assistant L’raan, and the director of one of the most popular ‘furrycons’ in the country, Simon ‘Papa Cat’ Branch.” I had to admire Melton’s expertise. Even though he’d been shocked to his core several times that evening, when the cameras were on he could still roll the words off his tongue with ease. “Early in the show we discussed the rejuvenation procedure, then we were surprised---terrified, actually---by the unexpected and so far unexplained appearance of three hostile-appearing wolves who suddenly collapsed before they could attack anybody. Then Simon Branch came on to ask our Yularian guests a question I’m sure millions of us have been pondering---simply, why don’t the aliens appear to like us? An even bigger surprise came when Tom Barnes, who has had more ‘face time’ with our new alien friends than any other human, spoke up and told us exactly what the problem is.” Melton looked a bit dejected, then finished by saying, “I’m certainly no expert in alien relations, and frankly I don’t know how we as a people can solve the problem, but I sure hope we can make an effort to try. Like Simon and Tom and I’m sure many millions of other humans, I’ve always had a soft spot in my heart for the formerly-fictional idea of ‘non-human people’, and now that we have a chance to get to know real non-human people, I for one don’t want to see that opportunity slip away.”
The show was almost out of time, and as we all stood in response to the stage director’s frantic off-camera gesture, Melton got up and came around the front of his desk to shake our hands. “Simon, thanks for coming all the way out here on short notice, and thanks, especially, for asking the tough question
that I feel needed to be asked.” Then he stepped up to me. “Tom---” He shook his head, smiling. “It’s hard to remember you as I last saw you a few short years ago, and to realize that you’re still old enough to be my father.”
“Almost old enough to be your grandfather, you mean,” I said, laughing, and Melton’s jaw dropped for a moment, then he recovered.
“I…I guess you’re right!” he said. “Good grief! I’m still in my forties, and I probably have more gray hair than you do!” Oh, I couldn’t resist.
“But mine’s natural, Harvey,” I quipped innocently, and I’m sure the high definition cameras caught the blush of embarrassment beneath Melton’s stage makeup.
“Bastard!” he carefully whispered to me, laughing, while making sure the cameras couldn’t read his lips and the microphones couldn’t pick up his voice over the raucous laughter of the audience. Then he moved to the Yularians, and he couldn’t have been more gracious.
“Doctor N’looma, L’raan, thank you both for gracing us with your presence, and for this incredible opportunity to get to know a little bit about you and your people. I’m hoping that this is only a beginning for all our species to learn more about each other, and hopefully for us to move past our species’ differences and misunderstandings. Your coming here to our world has shown us, beyond any kind of doubt, that we have a lot to learn, and I sincerely hope a lot to contribute to…to the universe!” He made the mistake of grinning---an expression of threat to non-friends among almost all creatures---but the Yularians were ‘human savvy’ enough not to misinterpret his gesture, and both of them vulpine-smiled (perked ears, slightly open jaws, wagging tails) as they shook his proffered hand. The audience was on its feet, applauding, cheering, whistling (enthusiastically encouraged by the stage director) while the band played the closing theme music.
And then (whew!) we were done!
Chapter 21
Basking in the Afterglow
The main studio lights had been extinguished, the audience was dutifully filing out, and Melton, Branch, the vixens and I were preparing to leave the stage when Branch suddenly said, “Harvey, could I borrow your green room for a few minutes? I’d like to talk to Tom and our Yularian friends in private.”
Melton blinked, then reached under his desk for his drink. “No problem, Simon, just as long as there’s no bloodshed.” He finished the glass of whiskey in two swallows. “I’ll even make sure the hidden cameras and microphones are turned off.”
Indeed!
A few minutes later we four were comfortably relaxing in Melton’s green room, the hustle-bustle of the audience and stage hands no more than a faint rumble in the distance.
“OK, Simon,” I said after downing another belt of Scotch, “what’s the game?”
“No ‘game’, Tom,” he replied, once again appearing nervous. “First I’d like to apologize to you, Dr. N’looma and L’raan. When Harvey asked me to fly out and be a ‘surprise guest’ on his show, he didn’t tell me who his other guests were. ‘It’s a surprise!’ is all he’d say.” Branch sipped his drink, then cleared his throat. “Once I got out here and learned that you three were his headliners, I almost backed out.” Another sip. “You…you have no idea how…intimidating you three are! My God! The world’s first rejuvenated man, accompanied by a pair of real live aliens! And I’m suddenly told that I’m supposed to ask ‘the big question’ that’s on everybody’s mind nowadays!” This time he took a harder pull on his drink. “I…I nearly had a nervous breakdown!”
I reached over and clamped a solid hand on his shoulder---and made sure my smile was sincere. “You did fine, Simon. This old man doesn’t ‘do’ surprises all that well, either, and if the situation had been reversed I’d probably have told Harvey to shove it up his ass and hopped the first jet back home.”
“We’ve never thought of ourselves as being ‘intimidating’, Simon Branch,” the elder vixen stated gently, “and I hope you’ve come to realize that, despite our physical differences, we’re simply people, like yourself, only from a different world and culture.”
“Just because we have more body fur and sharper teeth,” L’raan added with a vulpine grin that I knew Branch didn’t catch, “is no reason to fear us.”
Laughing, I relaxed back into my seat and said, “Harvey likes to spring surprises on his guests, and I’ve been on his show before, so I figured he’d try something. Your question, however, was perfectly legitimate, and I hope we answered it to your satisfaction.”
“You weren’t bullshitting me?”
I shook my head, and was pleased to see the vixens mirror my action. “Nope! There are a few more issues that we didn’t go into on camera for political and social reasons, but the ones we covered were the real deal, and our governments---human and otherwise---are well aware of them and their serious implications.”
“But---we…we can’t change entire cultures and societies overnight!” Branch exclaimed. “How---?”
“This problem isn’t new,” B’naah injected. “Our own people have been dealing with cultural and social…differences…since we first contacted the Ar’kaa, and both the Eelon and Dralorians have ‘issues’ with us, too, as well as with each other and the Ar’kaa. So you see, Simon Branch, the problems we share really are ‘shared’. We Yularians are learning the ways of humans, and are discovering new points of social and cultural convergence every day. As a side benefit, L’raan and I do not fight with Tom nearly as much now as we did when we first met him.” She looked at me with a strange vulpine expression that I’d not learned to interpret, of course totally wasted on our other human companion.
Her words, however, were easily understood, and as B’naah’s final comment sank in, Branch’s eyes grew wide and his eyebrows climbed up his forehead. I, however, broke out laughing! The crusty old vixen had managed to slip a delightful joke into the serious mood, and my old friend “bit” it hook, line and sinker!
“S’true, Simon!” I hooted. “The Yularians have a salve that makes bite and claw marks heal really fast; otherwise I’d be a solid mass of wounds!”
The poor man’s mouth hung open in shock, and I erupted in fresh laughter, joined by the yipping and yikking vixens. Eventually Branch realized that he’d been spoofed, and he sputtered and began laughing himself. In the middle of the round-robin laugh-fest L’raan rose from her chair and approached the man, who instinctively shrank back into his chair at her approach.
“Relax, my friend,” I told him. “I don’t think she’s planning to bite you.”
“You have no way of knowing my intentions, Tom,” she haughtily informed me. “I may desire a taste of his flesh---or his blood.”
I’d thought his eyes had grown wide with shock before, but I was wrong. Her comment terrified him---for all of five seconds. Then he released his breath with an explosive laugh that was more than half-sob, and he broke into a fit of giggles, a malady I was afraid we’d all “catch”.
“Simon Branch,” the young vixen intoned, “do you find me attractive?”
Uh oh--- I suddenly feared this would get awkward fast, and I wasn’t wrong.
Caught completely off-guard by the Yularian’s question, Branch blinked and began sputtering.
“L’raan! Don’t!” I commanded in really rough Yularian, but she ignored me, grasping Branch’s wide-eyed head in both her black-furred hands. I knew what was coming next. “Do not bury his head in your chest and belly fur!” I barked harshly, and the shock value of hearing me address her that way gave pause to the social blunder she was about to unwittingly make.
B’naah seemed as shocked as her granddaughter at my outburst, but she quickly seconded my command, sensing that I was trying to avert…something…but not knowing just what. Of course Branch had no idea what was being said in the alien tongue, which was probably just as well. “I’ll explain later,” I continued in Yularian (it really made my throat hurt), “but for now just release his head and come sit back down.”
Looking a bit puzzled (body langu
age and expressions that Branch couldn’t decipher) the vixen quickly gave him a friendly lick on his cheek, then released his head and minced back to the sofa, plopping back down next to her grandmother.
“I…I---” Branch sputtered, but I held up a hand in a “stop” manner.
“Don’t,” I told him with a wry, sad smile. “I’ll explain to them later. Trust me.” Branch blinked and swallowed a few times, then nodded. “Now, old friend, was there anything else you wanted to talk about at this time?”
“Uh---yeah. Yeah!” Branch finally replied, brightening like a dawning day. “I’d like to invite you all to be our special guests at Paws’N’Claws, which is coming up at the end of the month. You don’t have to do anything; the convention will cover all costs; lodging, meals, everything. I---we---would just like you to meet people who would be thrilled to be in the company of…of the kind of people we all admire.” Honest to God, Branch was nearly quivering with excitement.
For once (it seemed) L’raan was speechless, and B’naah’s expression---puzzled me. The old physician tilted her head in apparent confusion, but I suspected that was a sham. I was right.
“This is a gathering of humans who like…animals…that have human-like characteristics?” the old vixen carefully asked. “These people put on…fur---”
“Fake fur!” Branch nearly shouted. “It’s not…not an animal’s skin! We don’t hurt animals; we love animals!” I thought my old friend was about to have a nervous breakdown.
“Imitation fur, then,” B’naah continued, nodding. “Then these imitation-fur-covered humans dance and play and---” She tilted her head sideways, asking him to continue.
After another hard pull that emptied his glass, Branch said, “They---we---since I have fur suits, too---we simply pretend we’re someone else---a different kind of person---for a while…” He sighed. “Then, when we get too hot or too tired we finally take off the suit---and abandon the wonderfully non-human person we’ve been for a time---and return to our sometimes-boring, mundane human existence.” Smiling, he added, “For many of us it’s a brief escape into a delightful fantasy world that has none of the unpleasantness we have to deal with daily, and for some---” He shook his head, his smile growing wistful. “For some, it’s a taste of an existence they’d gladly give up their humanity for. In our hearts we know it can’t really happen, but the dream of it---well, it helps sustain us.”
Last Dance of the Phoenix Page 18
