Log entry 1, GSY 38904, rotation, uh… 203. It’s now 0814 hours. The proximity buzzer went off last night, interrupting my reading, and I glanced up at the camera monitor. I watched the ship’s science officer approach my quarters with what I’ve come to understand is a nervous gait. Their species, the N*zerethli, they rely heavily on body language, even more so than we humans do, and they tend to express emotions in the way they stand or walk (though it’s more of a hop), or even–well you know how they always seem to be dancing even when they’re perched on a chair? That’s them expressing emotions, emphasis, or even information.
It’s fascinating, frankly, but like learning any new language it’s been a challenge to understand. D*lithss, the comms officer, has been very helpful in this, but I don’t get exposed to their languages as much as I’d like. As usual, humans’ reputations as frightening unstoppable monsters with unquenchable bloodlusts still pervades the minds of most of the crew here on the trade ship N*zernoOo. They all tend to avoid me except for D*lithss and G'nnor the science officer, and he–excuse me, they, N*zerethli don’t have a masculine gender–they probably would avoid me as well if it wasn’t for their orders from the two Captains to use me to help them understand humans. Whatever, I’m not getting paid to break down everyone’s prejudices. I’m just here to be a Guinea pig and occasionally save their asses when the shit hits the fan.
So anyway, the buzzer sounded off with a different cadence, the one that meant somebody was at the door, so I sat back and tried to arrange my face and arms to appear as non-threatening as possible–oh, and that reminds me, I need to send a comm to the assholes over in Diplomacy, they got a LOT of shit wrong in their briefing materials–and I gave the voice command to let G'nnor in. They raised a foreleg in a decent approximation of a hello wave, which I’ve had them all working on; hardly a greeting befitting my rank, but then again I’ve been discharged for more than a cycle now. Better get used to civilian hellos. Anyway, G'nnor did what I recognized as a submissive sort of nervous bob-and-weave as they asked if I had time to talk about something they’d run across in their research. I smiled, making sure to show my teeth–that’s one thing Diplo got wrong, one of many; these guys aren’t Earth predators, teeth means friendly, not aggressive–and said, “Sure thing, buddy, it’s what I’m here for.”
G'nnor did a relieved sort of head tilt and fluttered their eyelids several times. “Thank you, human Grinda,” they said. I’d given up trying to get any of these friendly, nervous buggers to pronounce “Galinda” correctly. I guess their mandibles just aren’t made for it. They said–oh hell, I’ll just play you the video.
(Transcriptionist’s note: video feed from Ms. Kowalski’s quarters, main room, dated GSY 38904-202-1842:1869, begins playing. Transcription from this point includes description of events in the room in brackets, with notes in parentheses. Some assistance in body-language translation provided later by Ms. Kowalski.)
[G'nnor perches on one of the low bars bolted to the floor.]
“I was reading about human brains, and the document mentioned something called… Addiction. Can you please help me understand this?”
[Kowalski exhales loudly, putting her hands behind her head.]
“All right, so keep in mind I’m not an expert in neuroscience, but you remember how we talked about humans intentionally poisoning themselves for fun and pleasure?”
[G'nnor waves their foreleg in a sinuous motion, their body-word for ‘confirmed’.]
“You said it was because the poisons mimic pleasure chemicals in your brains.”
“That’s right. Do you remember the different types of recreational poisons?”
[They wave 'yes’ again, with a pleased wiggle of their eyebrow-like feelers.]
“There are several different sorts; some slow down brain function but they also reduce pain; those are… downies?”
“Close enough; downers if you want to be perfectly correct. Also called depressants and narcotics.”
[G'nnor nods back, presumably mimicking her.]
“There are also stimulants or uppers that create additional connections in your brains temporarily, making it feel like you are smarter and stronger. And…”
[G'nnor pauses, and activates the data pad in their grasp.]
[Kowalski waves dismissively at the data pad.]
“The other main type are hallucinogens, but they’re not important for this discussion. Like you said, these drugs mimic certain chemicals in our brains and bodies that are responsible for pleasurable nerve stimulation, or in some cases they stimulate our bodies’ production of those chemicals but the result is the same: more pleasure.
"The problem is when we get used to the additional chemicals. We get used to the heightened pleasure and/or lessened pain, we get used to the increase in brain activity. But our bodies cannot naturally produce the additional amounts of those chemicals, and the lack results in suffering. Mostly reduced brain activity, increased pain and stress, decreased energy–even worse than if we had never taken the drugs in the first place. And for the more dangerous drugs, a lot of serious biological symptoms in the rest of the body too. This suffering is called withdrawal, or cravings. And the brain tells us that we need the drug to avoid this suffering.”
[G'nnor dances a dance of shock, appalled.]
“But why would anyone see this as an acceptable exchange? The document I was reading claims that the withdrawal period can be dozens of rotations long, and the effect of the drugs are mere hours, if that!”
[They wave their forelegs in confusion.]
“Well, it’s complicated. Everyone has the capacity to become addicted to these drugs, and in fact to anything that mimics or stimulates production of pleasure chemicals, including sugar, spices, and even contact with someone or something we’ve bonded with. Like me with Stabby for example.”
[Kowalski gestures to a little cleaning robot in the corner, standard model S13 for Terran janitorial duty, which has a knife taped to it*.]
“If I went too long without seeing my little buddy here, I’d be sad.”
[The cleaning robot beeps in response to its name; G'nnor takes a step away from it, apparently frightened by it.]
(Transcriptionist’s note: Ms. Kowalski’s voice, off-camera, presumably narrating.) “G'nnor is a fast learner; they’d only been caught by Stabby once.”
(Transcriptionist’s note: Ms. Kowalski’s in-video dialogue resumes.) “So yeah, humans can become addicted to anything that gives them more pleasure chemicals, but we’re even more susceptible to addiction if our brains don’t make enough on their own to prevent problems like depression or anxiety.”
[G'nnor waves 'yes’ and nods their head.]
“I have read about these. They are… emotional disorders caused by imbalances in your brain chemistry, yes?”
“Primarily, yes, but they also can be caused by emotional trauma. Depression is usually the result of insufficient pleasure chemicals and people who have it, like myself, our brains are always telling us we need to create more, need to stop the pain.”
[G'nnor wipes their feelers with their forelegs. Ms. Kowalski does not know what this signifies.]
“…Yourself? Grinda, you are depressioned?”
“I have depression, yes,” Kowalski corrects. “I’m not often actively depressed any more, but that’s because my doctor gives me medication to help my brain retain the pleasure chemicals that I do create. But I still crave the same drugs I used to take before. They kept the pain away when I was high, even if they brought their own pain when I couldn’t get more drugs. I always justified it by saying it was better than suicide.”
“Suicide… I remember this term. It is… Voluntary self-termination?”
[G'nnor shivers, a body-word that means the same thing as when humans do it.]
“Grinda, your species is frightening, but I care for you and I do not wish you to self-terminate.”
“Thank you for your concern, G'nnor. I’m not at risk of killing myself. Never was really. Self-destruction, maybe, but not self-termination.”
[Kowalski takes a deep breath and shakes her head.]
“So does all that make sense?”
[G'nnor wraps their forelegs around each other. (Ms. Kowalski thinks this is their body-word for 'hold on, I’m thinking’.) Suddenly they freeze, then begin rapidly stomping one foot. (Ms. Kowalski says this is the N*zerethli equivalent of a boisterous laugh.)]
“Grinda, you humans really do come from the most death-world of death-worlds! Even your own brains are always trying to kill you!”
[Kowalski does a double-take, then laughs along with them.]
(*Transcriptionist’s note: When questioned why a knife had been taped to the cleaning robot, Ms. Kowalski explained: “Because it’s really funny whenever it rolls by and cuts the ankle of someone caught unawares.”)
Edit: more from Kowalski and the N*zerethli!
