11
I found the kitchen and its “nutritional synthesizer” panel, down at the opposite end of the corridor from my room. I was going to need to come up with a less clunky name for that device, though.
Standing in front of the dispenser, I waved my hand across its blank control screen as Bjorn had showed me earlier. A menu appeared above the panel, all in undecipherable script. I cursed under my breath. I’d forgotten about the language barrier, my body clock was ticking toward midnight, and I was getting hangry.
“Excuse me, but may I be of assistance?”
The voice startled me. I wheeled about to find Sven standing behind me. He was at a respectful distance, but once again the Emissary seemed to appear out of nowhere. Space ninjas.
“Geez,” I said, catching my breath. “Do you guys always pop out of thin air like that?”
Sven looked troubled. “I am sorry, I did not intend to frighten you. I anticipated you might need assistance.”
“How did you know I was down here?” I checked the ceiling for surveillance cameras, not having the faintest idea what they might look like in this place. “Are you guys watching me?”
“Not at all. We wish to respect your privacy, though we can anticipate your needs and sense your emotional state. As we explained, it is part of our nature.”
I recalled their extraordinarily sensitive nervous systems. Their empathic abilities must have been related, which I resolved to dig into more when my training started. “You could tell I’m hungry, then.”
“More to the point, I anticipated your metabolic cycle. It has been several hours of your time since your last meal.”
He was right, I’d been so consumed with my studies that I’d completely forgotten supper. But there was a more immediate problem. I jerked a thumb at the dispenser behind me. “I can’t read the menu.”
Sven flashed a thin smile of recognition. “Ah. We have been able to address that.” He pulled one of those crystal slates from his tunic and pointed it at the blank screen. “We have translated the menu items into English for you. In the future, you will be able to do this without our assistance.”
I turned back to activate the screen again. Sure enough, it was readable now.
“The translations may appear awkward at first, but it will adapt to your lexicon as you use it.”
He wasn’t kidding. Late as it felt, I was more in the mood for breakfast and typed in “omelet.” It offered me everything from pancakes to “egg mixture, frothy.”
“It will adapt more quickly if you use the voice interface.”
“I can tell it what I want? Cool.” I ordered a ham and cheese omelet with hash browns, as if this was an extraterrestrial Waffle House. And since I was talking to a futuristic food synthesizer, there could be only one choice of beverage: “Tea. Earl Grey. Hot.”
I waited in anticipation, but nothing happened.
“You still have to place receptacles in the dispenser,” Sven explained patiently.
Of course. I reached into the cabinet, set the “receptacles” into the slot, and was rewarded with a cup of steaming hot tea and a pile of scrambled eggs mixed up with something resembling ham and cheese.
“Not much of an omelet, but it’ll do.”
“If you describe precisely what you need, the dispenser will learn from you.”
“I’ll try that next time. I’m too hungry to get picky.”
We sat down at a nearby table and I dug into my midnight meal. It had a taste that can only be described as artificial, and I hoped the synthesizer could learn a few things about seasoning as well. It would’ve been a good idea to bring a jar of hot sauce with me. The tea wasn’t bad, though. “Do you ever sample our cuisine when you’re on Earth?” It sounded hopelessly snooty but that was the word which came to mind. “If you’re able to, I mean.” Their appearance was so humanlike that it was easy to forget I hadn’t learned enough about their metabolism. Chocolate might be tasty to us, but it can be fatal to dogs. Same principle.
“We have. The human race is one of the few which shares a compatible diet with ours,” he said. “Personally, I quite enjoy your black coffee. Perhaps too much.”
I was starting to warm up to this guy. “How about cheeseburgers? Pizza?”
“We have had both, but there is a certain loss of fidelity when the synthesizer tries to emulate your protein sources.”
I considered the almost-eggs I was currently inhaling, more out of sheer hunger than enjoyment, and hoped that problem would resolve itself over time. “You don’t stock up on actual food for these jaunts, then? Seems like there’s enough room.”
“We do not permit the cultivation of lower species for food. It is largely forbidden by the Union’s code of biological ethics, with a few cultural exceptions.”
Either he read the quizzical look I was wearing at that moment, or it was his empathic ability at work again. He continued. “Over time, it became clear that many animal species harbor a form of intelligence, though most have not evolved enough for it to be readily apparent. The Union determined that it was prudent to not interfere with their natural development. Though it may not be obvious to a local observer, even insects have their own native intelligence, however narrowly defined.”
I could see his point. “How an ant colony functions may not seem like intelligence, but it works for them. What you’re saying is a lot of what we think is a species’ ‘instinct’ is simply their way of thinking through a problem.”
“In its simplest form, you are correct. Some species take longer to progress than others, while some never do. We are resolved to ‘let nature take its course,’ as you would say. Too often, intelligence is assumed when a species shows the ability to modify its own surroundings to its needs. But many creatures are limited by their physical traits and do not evolve in such ways.”
“Aquatic mammals,” I said. “Whales, dolphins, manatees . . . they’re all pretty clever.”
“More than you may realize,” Sven said. “We established contact with them around the same time we first began observing your race. They are quite intelligent.”
“You’re talking to them?” This was incredible. “I mean, we always thought they were communicating between themselves, but actually being able to converse with them . . .” I trailed off in thought, wondering what the implications might be. What did they think of us?
“They are quite fond of humans, for the most part. They do have concerns about the treatment of your environment, though recent trends have been encouraging.”
“Yeah, we’re working on that.” I’d never been a tree-hugger, but I also liked clean water and air. If you can avoid polluting, then by all means do so. “So they like us humans?”
“You share much in common. They are all generally docile and patient beings. They understand your species faces challenges which theirs do not, which you are steadily overcoming.”
“Kind of like you guys watching us for admission to the Union,” I surmised, when something else came to mind. “There’ve been accounts of whales and dolphins protecting humans from predators. There’s accounts of them protecting divers, for instance, because they knew hungry sharks were in the area.”
“An excellent example. They welcome your desire to experience their environment, but are frequently dismayed by your obtuseness. The ocean is a dangerous place,” he said. “To your point, they are not especially fond of sharks. They’re considered to be thoughtless bullies.”
“Reminds me of a line from an old movie: they swim, they eat, they make little sharks. Yeah, I’m not a big fan of them either.” Not that I ventured into the ocean much. Spotting a dorsal fin slicing through the water once at Myrtle Beach had been enough. He was—they were—dead right about the ocean being a dangerous place. There were some enormous, toothy creatures swimming around in the murk, outside of human sight. “What does your ‘biological code of ethics’ have to say about predatory species?”
Sven became pensive, which suggested this was a personal struggle for him. “We have similar species within the Union, though not all are waterborne. They must be allowed to evolve just as any other creature. That does not mean we don’t take precautions to protect ourselves. Avoidance is the first priority.”
“Don’t wander into places where you might get eaten,” I said. “Makes sense, but sometimes it’s unavoidable. Right?” I wondered how much of the Union remained unexplored because someone might get hurt. It didn’t square with my idea of an advanced civilization.
“You will learn more about this in time. We employ many layers of protective measures, but yes, sometimes taking a life to protect another is sadly necessary.” He paused a moment. “For similar reasons, you might be surprised to learn that many of your mammals generally do not mind if they are captured and placed in one of your zoological parks.”
That was surprising. “I’d expect they’d think it was like being put in jail.”
“Some facilities are certainly more desirable than others. But you must consider the environment they came from, what you term the ‘food chain.’ Survival is a continuous struggle which demands constant vigilance. Many individuals, particularly the older ones, are often relieved to have that stress removed from their lives.”
“That’s the dolphin retirement plan, happily swimming in a shark-free pond and having fish thrown at them all day?”
“If they are well cared for. As I said, some facilities are better than others.”
A lot like retirement homes. It made me want to go back and spread the word to every zoo and aquarium in the world: Be nice to these guys, they’ve had a hard life. Let them enjoy what’s left.
I finished my late-night meal and placed the dishes in the recycler. Sven was proving to be less of a cold fish—pun fully intended—than I’d thought. Thinking of the dolphins enjoying their respite from a hard life in the ocean, I realized how exhausted I was and made my way back to my room.
Sleep came quickly, and deeply. That was a good thing, because the next day I was in for a wild ride.