“Because!”
His voice rose high and shrill. He had such a wide vocal range, so unlike a Maeleon. Our voices could rise and fall, but within a shorter range. In comparison, Assistant 23’s voice had a musical quality.
“Look, can you just… leave me alone?” Assistant 23 asked. His voice had changed again. Now it was tight and thin, evoking discomfort.
“I am bothering you?” I asked.
There was a pause.
“N-no,” Assistant 23 replied. “Well…”
Another pause followed. I stood there patiently, my tail swishing back and forth in amusement. Would he tell the truth? Or would he lie? I almost hoped it was the latter. The humanurge to tell falsehoods was another trait that I found fascinating. Did that occur to all humans, or was Assistant 23 special?
Finally, a long sigh came from the other side of the door. “No, you’re not bothering me.”
My mouth widened into a grin. So, he had chosen to lie after all.
“No?” I asked. “Then you will not mind opening the door to face me.”
I knew I was “pushing his buttons”—a human English phrase I’d overheard from Paz. It meant to annoy another individual with the intention of lightly upsetting them. My wish was not to anger or frustrate Assistant 23. I merely wanted to scope out his limits. What would he agree to? What would he refuse?
Maeleon society was honest and direct. We rarely, if ever, lied to each other. We did not take another individual’s feelings personally, and we communicated our desires and boundaries without a second thought. In this manner, we avoided most conflicts before they began.
Assistant 23 did not do any of this.
He maintained his silence. I assumed he disliked the thought of facing me, yet he could not say it out loud.
“If you tell me to leave, I will do so,” I offered when he didn’t respond. “Your fruits will be left on the ground. I will not push your buttons anymore.”
There was another silent pause, but suddenly Assistant 23 swung the door open.
“How do you know that phrase?” he demanded.
My feelers pulsed with excitement to see and speak with him.
“I overheard it from Paz,” I replied.
Assistant 23 took a few breaths. I knew this by the way his small shoulders shifted beneath his coverings. It was neither the first nor the last time I wished I could see his face.
But I was patient. Fruit left to ripen on the branch was always sweeter than fruit picked too soon.
“Okay,” he said. “But how did you know what itmeans?”
His tone had changed again. The tight discomfort was gone. He sounded lively and enthusiastic—a new quality I had never heard from him before.
My feelers pulsed faster.
“I assumed its meaning through the context,” I answered. “Did I use it incorrectly?”
Assistant 23’s hand flew to his mouth—or rather, to where I knew a human mouth was. His face was hidden beneath the tinted shield, as usual.
“No. Actually, you used it properly,” he said. “I’m… honestly impressed.”
My grin widened. That might’ve been the first honest thing he’d said all day. And I liked his honesty just as much as his lies.
“I’m actually a linguist, first and foremost,” he said, then sounded embarrassed to admit that so freely. “Um… in case you didn’t know.”
My feelers lifted in surprise. That single tidbit of knowledge only made me hungrier to learn more.
