Gabaliens 9
When I came back in and walked into the beanpole of an alien, he raised his arms and looked down at me, very confused. I stared at him before I pointed at the door: "This doesn't make SENSE!" His eyes grew a little wider and wandered to the door and then... he looked down again, slight frown in place: "... but it does. Most everything does. What is the matter... 'Gabrielle' ?", again, he said it weirdly. "These houses FLOAT!", it was an accusation, definitely.
He nodded. Once. And continued to look at me. Apparently, he needed clarification: "That's NOT normal, these things are HEAVY!" After he blinked his eyes a few times, he seemed to have gotten it: "Ah. You... you assume you have a gravitational pull on you!", he smiled. Like talking to a child. "That is actually not the case. The nanites in your bloodstream also have a balancing function, it simulates the gravitational pull of... 9.81 meters per square second. So your muscles and bones do not degenerate. It is a very delicate balance. Important for all kinds of species across the universe. Death can be the result of wrongly adjusted gravitational forces", he nodded seriously. "And so HOUSES FLOAT?!", because that was the issue here. Houses aren't supposed to float, bloody hell! "Well, the houses have been equipped with solar energy generators, so it can effortlessly stay on that level, the proximity to this system's sun really helps", he shuffled his feet a little: "... this planet was a good find" I stared at him. He apparently believed in the righteousness of flying houses. I, decidedly, did not. They were crimes. Against nature. Just like everything else out there. Holes in the floor. No roads. No walkways. Nothing. "Next thing you tell me *I* can fly too!", I sounded angry. Actually angry. His open, slightly concerned expression didn't make me feel much better. When he lifted his feet in the air, lifting his robe against his feet, floating, I punched his shoulder: "Come ON!" He didn't float away, either. "This is stupidly ridiculous!" A head tilt later, his face fell: "I am sorry... I did not know it would be such a cultural shock, I almost exclusively deal with space faring races..." "Bullshit! It's not a cultural shock, this is a crime against NATURE!" I felt like I was repeating myself. He probably did, too. He returned to the floor. Like a NORMAL bloody person. And stared at me, long and hard. And I stared back, furious and shaken and I hated everything about this. Absolutely everything. But especially him. Just when I wanted to turn away and stalk off, his eyes widened and he stood back up, disbelieving: "... you're a packbonder" "I'm a WHAT?!", it took about two more seconds until my - WITHOUT MY WILL UPGRADED - brain supplied to me that this meant I bonded with other beings of my or other species and thrived only in company. "OF COURSE I am, you nitwit! NO one can live alone!" He looked at me with PITY then. *PITY* Somehow, this was all too much. Really, way too much. I flung myself on the bed and curled into a maybe even artificial pillow. Wouldn't want to know, really. At least it felt real and fluffy. And smelled of washed things. And that was fine, at least. "... that... is not quite true, actually. A lot of species are solitary, now. Mine is one of them... in almost all cases. It is a very old, recessive gene. Packbonding... is outgrown, at a stage of post-scarcity. It is not necessary anymore. Company. Since one can live on their own. It is not necessary for survival, so the bonding... gets lost", he rubbed his face: "Lord, of course, you were on the nuclear stage and blew yourself up. Of COURSE you are a packbonder. It explains why yo talk so much. And care. And are actually offended by things I say. It's not custom, it's your instinct, it's what you do" I hadn't even said much. I had stayed silent most of the time. "... no wonder you didn't want your thoughts known. It wasn't greed, it was worry and shame and all those... feelings", he shook his head again. "I am terribly sorry, I should have recognised you miss your... I suppose pack is the wrong word. Your closer circle? The ones you bonded with one way or the other", he sounded terribly sorry, "... and you could be mistaken for one since you miss them terribly. That's why your serotonin and dopamine levels are so low" He put a blanket over me: "... do you know how to find one of yours?" I just turned away. I've had enough. After a while... he went away, too. Good.