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“Our family has historically been influential in politics, yes. But our father was slain, and our mother either seduced or bribed away, and the result is that we are something of the black sheep of our world. We are still part of the nobility. Still influential. Still possessed of some wealth.”
“Rich and handsome,” she says. “What a score. I’m surprised you're not married.”
I glance over at her to see if she is being sarcastic. She is smiling, but it is hard to say why. This human keeps her secrets, and I sense she has many.
“I am not interested in marriage,” I tell her. “That is a human custom.”
She rests her chin on her hands, her eyes running over documents I know she cannot hope to read. Our written system is far too complex for humans to learn, especially wild, rough things like this young woman.
“I think marriage is very romantic,” she says. “Pledging your entire life to someone else, promising to be there for them no matter what. It’s about loyalty, really, isn’t it.”
“I had not thought about it that way.”
“That’s funny,” she says, glancing back at my many papers. “Seems to me like you think about everything pretty much every way it could be thought about.”
I look at her with no small measure of surprise. That was a very insightful comment for a human, especially one who has only just come into my custody and has been absolutely insensate for weeks. She pays attention, clearly. I know it is just a survival skill, but I would be lying if I said it was not the slightest bit flattering to have some facet of myself noticed.
“I have not had time to consider marriage. I have been busy considering all the many other things.”
“Hm,” she nods. “So you’re the paperwork guy. There’s always a paperwork guy. My father said he’s the one with the real power, because he’s the only one who really knows what’s going on.”
“Your father sounds like a wise man.”
“He’s a lot of things. I guess wise is one of them. What’s all this paperwork about? Do advanced aliens have to fill in a lot of forms?”
“These are plans, and letters of explanation,” I say. ‘When we return to our world, we are returning to a complicated political situation. It will matter who we, or I, I suppose, can get on our side if peace is to be maintained. I have mapped out multiple scenarios in which various factions are either for, or against us, and how events are likely to pan out based on those scenarios.”
“So you think that if you just think of everything, you’ll be in control of it. But you’ve got to know that even with all these plans you’ve made, things are just going to happen how they’ll happen, and what really happens won’t be anything you’ve thought of. That’s how it always is. The universe hates plans.”
I feel a pang of irritation at her dismissal of my work. It reminds me of Arkan’s approach to life.
“I find that people who think that thinking isn’t worth the time it takes spend a lot of time being surprised by the way things happen, which only reinforces their ideas that thinking doesn’t work.”
“Hm,” she nods, cocking her head to the side. “Maybe that’s it. Maybe I don’t think enough.”
Again, I am surprised. Usually when I provide such feedback, all that happens are dismissals and denials. This human considers my point of view immediately and considers that her own point of view might be less than perfect. She is intelligent, I realize. Deeply so. Maybe more intelligent than I had ever given humans credit for being.
“I’m hungry,” she announces.
“Of course. I will get you something to eat. Stay here.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll stay. There’re those soldiers out there, and there’s food in here. Or there will be. Is there entertainment? Anything to watch or read?”
“I have paper and ink pens. You could write or draw. Just don’t write or draw on anything I’ve already written or drawn on. Here.” I pick up a stack of unused paper and a couple of spare pens full of dark ink and press them into her arms. “Entertain yourself with these.”
She looks down at the things in her arms. “Will you teach me how to read and write your language?”
For a third time, I am taken aback. Never once has a human I have taken into my custody for training asked to be taught how to use our written language. Usually the fact that we are able to speak to them in their human tongue is enough.
“Yes. I can teach you. I can try. I do not know if it will translate, as we have telepathic elements which are reflected even in our written words, but it would be interesting to attempt.”
She looks around for somewhere to sit, and that is when I realize there is basically nowhere for her to get comfortable other than the bed. My quarters are minimalistic at best. I have never bothered to put much in them besides what I need for myself. I have never tried to make them comfortable for anyone else, including a pet.
“You can sit on the bed,” I tell her. “I will get some additional furnishings for you.”
“Additional furnishings,” she says. “Aren’t I lucky.”
“You very much are,” I agree, ignoring what is probably a hint of sarcasm.
