Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
The fridge is stocked.
Let me repeat that.
The fridge is stocked.
With. Cheese.
I’m not saying I’m in love, but I will end anyone who tries to take this away from me.
“Lora. Darling. This is amazing.” I don’t usually use endearments (I’m more of a “you bitch” kind of gay), but Lora put all my stuff away and arranged my furniture exactly right for me and made sure my fridge was full of cheese. He deserves an endearment for doing all that.
He looks around, nodding in agreement. “Human standards for housing vary greatly, and you have housed the people who need the biggest houses in the smallest. We standardize housing so that everyone knows what they can expect. For a few months we will utilize the houses that exist that pass inspection, but we will recycle most of the materials of the dwellings that already exist on this planet and build homes that suit the needs of the people and families in each district. As long as you are unattached, you will live here.”
“What if I want to move?” I don’t, but some people don’t do well with monotony. I’m fine with it. Give me the same shit day in and day out. I’ll thrive in it.
He rattles noncommittally. “You would speak to your guardian about changing your housing assignment, and they would arrange with you your change in residence.”
“What about people who are nomadic? There are whole human societies that move with the seasons.”
Lora smiles, leaning against the retaining wall between the kitchen and the living area as I take stock of all the groceries in the pantry and cabinets.
“We accommodate every lifestyle and culture. There are islands of humans that are… Stone Age…” He stumbles over the term and takes a moment to get his bearings around it.
“Ah, I see. Stone implements with no metalworking. Interesting. It is fascinating that you have several cultures that have not yet begun metalworking on the same planet within the same species as people who have already left trash on your moon.”
“What are you going to do with the primitive cultures?” It feels like it would be a loss to bring them into the Information Age, but it also feels cruel to leave them behind.
Without interference, they will likely eventually die out because of the lack of genetic diversity, but interfering is definitely a patriarchal response, and I really don’t think I want to perpetuate The Patriarchy any more than I already do simply by being a man.
Lora rattles thoughtfully. “The Planetary Systems Preservation Committee has protocols for primitive cultures that haven’t yet evolved or developed an understanding of the universe as an intergalactic community.
I believe the guardian that volunteers for your Stone Age brethren will be tasked with protection and preservation without interference. ”
“I think that’s how we’ve been handling them, too.
Some of them are violently xenophobic.” I’m glad it’s not me making those decisions.
I’d probably end up killing all of those insulated cultures with some kind of bacteria or virus they’ve never been exposed to.
There is historical precedent for that, and I’d be the dumbass that didn’t remember until the first one died from a cold or something.
(Let’s be honest, it would be COVID. I’ve been exposed to and tested positive for that fucker three times and never had a single symptom.
I followed all the protocols, but I was still the problem.)
“Many primitive peoples are violently xenophobic until we reeducate them.” He laughs like that’s a joke, but I don’t get it, and we all know a joke isn’t funny if you have to explain it.
“I thought you said you guys wouldn’t interfere—oh wait. You’re saying we’re the primitive ones, too.” It takes me a second, but I get there.
Lora reaches out and runs a finger from my shoulder to my hand.
“A very cute primitive people. I am glad some of you are reasonably forward thinking. Are your food supplies adequate? I discovered that some of your artisans specialize in cheese making, and I brought you samples from various artisans across the planet because you seem to enjoy that food most.”
My brain goes blank for a moment, and the only thought in my head is “artisan cheese from around the world.”
I’m slow to react, reaching almost fearfully for the door to the fridge.
As it creeps open, I bend to check the labels on the cheese I briefly glanced at before.
Holy shit. Some of these labels are French, and some of them are German, and there’s Indian, Chinese, and at least three other Asian languages along with Italian, Spanish, and other languages I don’t recognize because I’m pretty well rounded as a person education-wise, but I do not speak or read every language on the planet.
“Lora. This is the best gift anyone has ever given me. What is the most appropriate way for me to shower you in my excitement, gratitude, and affection?” I don’t think screaming, jumping up and down, and tackle-hugging him for a spontaneous BJ is going to go over well.
Not that it would be a hardship if he does indeed have a dick like he indicated before, but consent has not been given and who the fuck knows if it’s even a good idea.
Germs are a thing.
Huh. That is something we should talk more about. Our germs might not kill them, but theirs could kill us. We don’t have the same immediate immunity they get by sucking our blood.
An obviously startled rattle erupts from Lora, and his black eyes widen a bit.
“This is not a gift, Ollie. Food is not a gift. Good food that you like is available to you at all times. Anything you require that is necessary for life is available to you.” He indicates my fridge full of fancy cheese.
“This is necessary for your survival, Ollie.”
Tell the alien that cheese is a privilege of the rich or agree that it’s necessary for survival? That is the question, isn’t it? To be (a liar) or not to be (eating cheese)? That is a question, and I’m not a good enough person to make the right decision here.
“Cheese is absolutely necessary for my survival. You’re right, but it’s still very exciting for me because A.
I didn’t know I would have access to international cheeses, and B.
Food is often a gift humans give each other.
We’ve been gifting each other food since before we started painting on cave walls.
Humans like to eat, and we give each other food because it is something we all have in common.
So, maybe this isn’t a gift you intended, but it is one that is received.
And I fucking love cheese, and I am very excited, so I would like to express that appropriately. ”
Lora hesitates for a few seconds. “How would you usually express yourself in this circumstance?” he asks warily.
“It depends on who’s giving me the gift.
If it was my cousin, I would crush her in a hug, crack open a bottle of wine and make a cheese board with her that we would eat while getting buzzed and watching bad reality TV.
If it was one of my gay friends, I’d give them a thank you blowie.
Everyone else would probably just get an enthusiastic thank you, and then I’d gossip about them with Bee while we ate the fancy cheese and shared a bottle of wine. ”
Lora’s expression darkens a little, and his rattle this time is distinctly a warning.
Listen, Lora is a ScaryDarkAlienVampire. Emphasis on the scary. That warning rattle? Yeah, I take a step back.
Lora immediately cuts himself off and holds up his deadly claw in what must be a universal sign of I-come-in-peace. “I apologize. I did not mean to scare you. I will go now. Perhaps your cousin should come and make a cheese board with you. Goodbye, Ollie.”
With a deafening crack of thunder, Lora’s gone.
Blink. Blink.
“What just happened?”
That question hangs in the air for a long couple of seconds before I gather my wits and text Bee.
Me: I’m in my new luxury accommodations. If you bring wine and a bikini, we can eat cheese from France while soaking in my new hot tub.
What? Like I’m not going to take sound advice even if it comes from the scariest person I’ve ever met? Pfft.