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The Nature of Predators - Why the Caged Bird Sings (10/11)
🕑 Added 2024-07-24 11:00:11 +0000 UTCMemory Transcription Subject: Cala, Krakotl Child
Date [standardized human time]: October 3, 2142
Harry Clarke and I had gotten along as if we always knew each other from that first day I visited, when we played those silly car racing games on his gaming console. The humongous dogs hadn’t been a problem, despite how Andy fretted. From day one, after they finished sniffing me and perhaps detected the scents of school and humans, they’d been as lazy as ever. They loved belly rubs from my talons, and when I was younger, I’d loved flying over their heads with their toys; I could still hear the barks of outrage, though Milo and Bella hardly had the energy to play now. My best friend’s home seemed all perfect from the start, and I became enamored with what life would’ve been if I was born here—if I’d been human.
My life on Earth had taught me a lot, most of all helping me process my biological father’s abusiveness. I’d found him listed as one of the casualties of Nishtal’s raid, and I wanted to keep him dead and buried. Andrew was my father, and one that watched me much too closely, along with imposing a brutal curfew. He didn’t understand why I was so close with “that boy.” To me, it was like Harry and I were meant to be best friends, complimenting each other like fish and chips—something I greatly enjoyed at the local pub, since I’d gotten the anti-cure three years ago. Some days, we’d go there to work on our homework and snack on the “food of my ancestors”; while I doubted ancient Krakotl breaded their catch, it was a welcome improvement. I loved the tangy notes of oceanic meat.
The older I got, the less Andrew liked me hanging out with Harry, regardless of how much I told him it wasn’t like that. We were just friends, genuinely, and the only reason we planned to go to the school formal together was because we had nobody else to accompany us. “It’s better to go with your mates than go alone,” he’d said with a cheeky smile.
That didn’t quell Papa’s suspicions one bit, given how he’d show up unannounced to check that we really were doing homework. I was lucky that Mr. and Mrs. Clarke didn’t mind, and always welcomed him. I shuddered to think how overbearing Andrew would be if I ever did spread my wings and date someone. While I appreciated his concern, I needed a bit more independence and a tad less scrutiny. Teenager Cala wasn’t the scared chick locked in a cell and running to him for answers anymore, even if I thought he’d always see me that way. It was noble to try to protect me, but I didn’t need to be shielded from the world. Humans didn’t scare me a bit; I could recognize troublemakers and threats from a mile away, and understood their culture as well as any native. Adulthood—seeing this world and many others—beckoned to me.
“So why did you give up art, Cala? You were so talented,” Harry commented, keeping an eye on his Rottweiler.
I fluttered through the air, holding Bella’s leash as we walked the two dogs down the sidewalk. “Because it’s the one thing that makes me like him. If he was a painter, I don’t want to enjoy it or have anything that ties me to my family. I’d like to sing, and tour the world. He hated my singing, which is exactly why I sang one of my own pieces at the school talent show—while wearing a decibel meter around my neck. I hope he hears it from his grave.”
“Your voice is phenomenal. The range you have—it’s physically impossible for humans. There’s no other singer out there that could do what you do in English. I just think you shouldn’t define your interests based on your old man at all.”
“You’re right, yet I still find myself writing angry songs about him. Maybe it’s because I’ll live with the…guilt of what he encouraged me to do, forever. I’ll spend the rest of my fucking life knowing I killed millions of humans for him.”
“Cala, you have every right to be angry and all, but I find it hard to believe you got your potty mouth from Andrew. You know, Andy the friendly neighborhood zookeeper.”
“You haven’t seen Andrew talk about people he hates. My biological father is an exemplary example of where a bucket full of f-bombs is needed.”
“I quite agree. I reckon I’d have a slew of obscenities to say if I’d ever met him. I can’t imagine what it’s like to have something so horrendous in your past, but we all know you’re not like him. Some day, you’ll have to free yourself. Why don’t you try to take your musical talents on the road, just like you said?”
“It’s just…I’m not a fool, Harry.” As a familiar sadness slumped my shoulders, Bella turned around to nuzzle my talons with her snout. “Let’s say that I become a famous singer, and I’m living the dream. All the attention on me, everyone knowing my backstory; I suspect I’d share the fate of John Lennon.”
“I’m surprised you know that obscure bit of 20th century history.”
“Music history is something I study for fun, the way you pore over your math problems—for reasons I’ll never understand, but it’s special to you. It draws your interest. I’ve sampled famous music throughout the recent centuries, and learned the stories behind them. What’s off the page is just as important as what’s on it.”
The human tugged the dog’s lead, considering his next words carefully. “Everything has a story. The question is what ours will be. If you don’t feel…secure enough to grab the spotlight that’s yours for the taking, that doesn’t mean you can’t tour the world. To think how big the SC is, and we stay here in Liverpool? There has to be a way to get around.”
“There’s always a way. We could steal a plane.”
He chuckled. “No, I mean it! Like, if you just wanted to piss off your dead, sicko dad, you could become an ecologist and sail around fixing the exterminators’ destroyed worlds. That’d infuriate him, right?”
“Most definitely. I do like ecology, but I’d lose my cool dealing with Fed-brained idiots interpersonally and fighting the guild’s lingering sway.”
“Okay, so what’s your idea? There has to be something.”
I beat my wings faster, ready to bring Bella inside and enjoy some air conditioning. The prospects of a happy future wouldn’t ever feel less undeserved, I imagined. There was too much blood on my feathers to atone for in a thousand lifetimes, whatever Harry, Andy, and Zhao said; I remembered pressing the button. What I wanted most of all was to make up for what I’d done to humanity, and repay my debt in some small way by doing some good for Earth. My memory leapt back to the United Nations’ recruiters who’d set up shop at the school job fair. As a Krakotl, I hadn’t dared to approach the Peacekeepers with their bright eyes and toothy grins. They were the first ones I’d seen in uniform since my initial capture. While I steered clear, something about their posters and attitudes drew me in. It had been one of their own that adopted me—saved me and showed me illogical compassion.
The United Nations’ armed forces travel the galaxy on a mission of peace, offering humanitarian aid and protecting Earth abroad. Maybe I could dig some humans out of the rubble at a natural disaster, instead of being the one who dropped bombs to bury them in the first place. That job would take me anywhere in the known galaxy, serving them. Doing something good.
“Part of me wants to join the Peacekeepers when I turn 19,” I told Harry cautiously. “It might help me make up for…the past.”
My best friend’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief. “You can’t be serious, Cala. You hated the military! What about being forced into the extermination fleet at age 8, and seeing the horrors and perils of combat up-close-and-personal, makes you want to return to that life?”
“I’ve gotten older. Back then, I wanted to protect Nishtal, and that was my motive. If I can’t do the same for Earth…well, I believe in the United Nations’ mission. The Peacekeepers aren’t the extermination fleet. They don’t bomb children from orbit, or induct kid soldiers. They help where they’re needed.”
“Earth doesn’t need protecting; we’re living in an era of peace and friendship. I appreciate your…nobility, but that would take you far away, wherever you’re ordered to go. It’d entail danger and hard labor, learning to fire weapons even if you never use them. It wouldn’t be singing happily into the sunset.”
“Sure, but that era of peace we’re living in? Someone has to keep it—and someone has to be there if Earth ever does need protecting. There will always be lives that need saving, and that might offset some of the damage I’ve done. It might help me earn my own forgiveness, Harry.”
“Well, you can’t join Terran service until your species’ age of maturity, Cala. There’s plenty of time to talk you out of this crazy idea. Shit, bring this up to Andy; I’m sure he won’t like it.”
“You’re probably right about how he’ll respond,” I mused. “He still thinks I’m a child that needs to be swaddled in bubble wrap. I better get him used to the idea now, so he won’t have a conniption when I enlist.”
“Ha, well good luck with that.” Harry unclipped the dogs’ leads and herded them back through the front door. He shoved his hands into his pockets, smiling awkwardly. His teenage years had brought more than a growth spurt; they’d left him with acne all over his face. “I guess this is where we part ways. I don’t want Andy to come looking for you, since you’re out past your curfew.”
“Eight o’clock is a ridiculous curfew. I can’t believe he won’t push it back at all.”
“I think he just doesn’t want you out late at night as a Krakotl. At least he cares, right? Good night, Cala.”
“Night, Harry.”
I took off into the sky, allowing myself to travel far above human pedestrians—a reason that it was absurd to think I’d be unsafe at night. Some of the bigger Terran cities had made laws applicable to flighted sapients, basing them largely off existing drone legislation and restrictions. It was a short flight back home to Andy’s flat, where I could listen to music and collect my thoughts. Compared to Nishtal’s tunes, human music was much more reliant on instruments, especially percussion. I found myself listening to a viral metal band fronted by a Yotul, with three human instrumentalists; they were called Primitives. Papa didn’t want me following this band, especially with their fame coming from the violent performances of Monso, the singer. He would rip guitars away from the musicians and break them, or throw stuff into the audience.
Primitives never put on a boring live performance. Andy won’t knowingly let me see them, especially after Monso threw a Molotov at the drumset at the Reading Festival.
I listened carefully to the screaming Yotul’s words, finding myself in them. “They want to exterminate me, they mean to eradicate me, they try to subjugate me, no way I won’t let you sedate me!”
Andrew thought it was mindless gibberish, but to me, it was the cry of fury over what the Federation had done. Even if Papa had let it go, I still felt all of the rage over what happened to Earth, my part in it, and how my people were warped. Humanity stopped that, and if anyone ever tried anything of that sort again, how could I not be ready to fight back? I’d never written songs of that kind, but part of me wanted to make my own warcry of bottled fury: if Krakotl even could. The exterminators would point to the Terrans’ enjoyment and creation of such music, as evidence that they couldn’t suppress their anger even in their art. I liked these types of songs for that reason. It’d piss off my biological father; if he’d hated how noisy I was, how would he like this blasted in his face?
I alighted on Andy’s balcony, ducking through the kitchen window to find him waiting for me—and checking the same watch he’d worn ever since I knew him. I shut the pane without a word, headphones still on, and quietly began hopping toward my room. My adopted father intercepted me, and lifted the headphones off my skull. He gave a disapproving frown as he heard Peaceful Uplift by Primitives, before setting them on the table. I could see the deck of cards laid on the table; he kept up his old solitaire habits every day when he got back from the zoo. The calm, quiet activity helped him unwind after work, and perhaps reminded him of when we first met. Since he cut contact with his parents, we were each other’s only family.
“You’re cutting it close, young lady; another minute and you would’ve been late. Don’t have time to talk to your old man before getting on that video game with Harry?” Andy questioned.
I threw my wings up in exasperation, hopping onto the perch by the table. “We’re not playing tonight! I just knew you wanted to interrogate me about him. Can’t you just be…normal?”
“You’re awfully touchy about me mentioning Harry, but alright. I’ll be normal. How was your day at school?”
“Good, Papa. I’m glad you made me study for that math test, even though it was wretched. I would’ve been lost without our review session.”
“Is that a ‘Thanks for helping me, Andy? I’ll get you a Father of the Year coffee mug!’”
“You know it was a thank you! I just hope that I did well enough; I’m certainly no math genius like Harry.”
“You’re plenty smart in your own ways. I checked online and you got an 88. That’s excellent, Cala; I knew you could do it. I’m proud of you!”
“Thanks.” Old Papa would’ve shamed me for that score, but Andy is just happy that I’m successful. I don’t have to live up to expectations of perfection. “It does mean a lot to me to hear that you’re proud. I do want you to know that.”
“I’m well-aware, sweetheart. And as a congratulations, I made you some of that mango salsa you love to take to school tomorrow for lunch. Actions speak louder than words, after all.”
“I know. That’s kind of how I feel, about saying I’m sorry for what happened to Earth. I want to show it.” I felt my tongue seize up, nervous for his reaction. Andy didn’t like when I spoke in ways that faulted myself. “Harry was talking about what to do when we grow up today, and it kind of hit me. I want to join the UN Peacekeepers.”
Lightning flashed in his brown irises. “What?! You have no idea what you’re suggesting. Where is this even coming from?”
“Imagine if I could save a few lives. After how many I’ve taken, it’d be something. Earth is worth protecting, and I want to stand for a good cause now. It’s a lot better than wanting to be an exterminator.”
“Cala, you’re 14! You’ll come to your senses. I’m not like your father, signing off on a child going off to war—and I didn’t pity you living that life only for you to rejoin it! You could do so much better. You have excellent grades, a beautiful voice…listen, okay? That’ll mean being screamed at by a drill sergeant and having your individuality crushed all over again. Remember Captain Karlem? None of the comforts you have here, no choice but to follow orders that might get you killed.”
“I said when I grow up, Papa. It’s a lot different to knowingly sign up for service as an adult. I understand all of the drawbacks and risks fully, and choose to accept them. That’s what it’s about: self-sacrifice. Valor. Being human, at least when I stand in that uniform.”
“Don’t bullshit me. Is this about the angry music you listen to, and wanting to get back at life? I joined the Peacekeepers in a dark time, chasing a revenge fantasy and feeding my own hatred. That’s what the military was to me. It wasn’t for the right reasons at all. I wanted you to be better than me, Cala.”
“But that’s not what the Peacekeepers are to me—it isn’t what they stand for, and more importantly, it wasn’t who you were. I mean, you saved me. A Peacekeeper is someone kind and compassionate, there to help those who need it most. That was you, Andy, and that’s what I want to be too.”
“No! It’s not a good life, don’t you get it? If that’s who you want to be, you can join a charity, become an EMT, sign up as a foster parent yourself. There’s so many other ways. Not this. Not a violent occupation that teaches you to shoot guns and sail into battle.”
“Even herbivores can be violent to protect their territory. It’s part of their role in the ecosystem. I’m applying those lessons to my own life. You taught me that.”
“I had nothing to do with teaching you to put yourself in harm’s way. My job is to keep you safe, and stop you from making a big mistake. This would throw away years of your life that could be pointed toward your real dreams.”
I folded my wings crossly. “You’re not in my head. You don’t know my dreams. I can make my own decisions about what I want for my life.”
“Yes, and I’m sure you’ll make a better one after thinking about it. Work on your homework, and let’s not talk about this silly idea again.”
I hopped over to look at the assignments that were due tomorrow, more than willing not to speak with Andy about this any longer. What could I do to make him see that I wasn’t a chick any longer—and that the cage I was in today was my own guilt? The more I understood what I did six years ago, the more willing I was to do whatever was necessary to be free of it. My song could be one about fighting alongside humans for what I believed in, and taking up my adopted father’s mantle as a Peacekeeper: one that embodied UN ideals. After my long childhood journey, I no longer wanted to kill predators; I knew with absolute certainty that I wanted to save them.
A/N - Second-to-last part! A much older Cala now enjoys fish and chips, and walking Harry’s Rottweilers; she’s given up art and leaned completely into music, due to her hatred for her biological father. Wanting to make up for what she did and save/fight for humans lives, our narrator becomes quite keen on the idea of joining the Peacekeepers, despite the fact that neither Harry or Andy think that’s a good choice for her future.
What do you think about Cala’s idea to join the Peacekeepers, and whether it would be good for her? How do you feel about how she's growing up, and how Andy has adapted to being her father over the years?
As always, thank you for reading and supporting!
Comments
Michael Olson
You did a great job on toneshifting the character over the time lapse here! You can feel her having grown over the years.
Liam Owens
This decision will land her in a grave. Andy is totally right.
EliasArt2Life
To be fair, I can’t stand Heavy Metal music either. Don’t get what people get out of it. I’ve heard that they think it makes them feel alive or energized, but it just fills me with stress, irritation. On the other hand, I have auditory processing issues and my Autism means I can be easily overwhelmed by noises, so maybe if I didn’t have those traits I could understand it.
Neu5Ac
Aw, a time skip? We're never going to see first hand a sapient meeting an alien pet that goes well, are we? And I was so looking forward to seeing how Cala would handle meeting a pair of Rottweilers. While he worded it poorly, Andy is right. If Cala really wants to do things like pull people out of collapsed buildings and deliver food to famine stricken lands, joining a military force isn't the best option. What has likely become the Interstellar Red Cross Foundation is and likely remains the largest disaster relief organization in existence, bar none. They also accept volunteers only and forbid them from participating in warfare, so there's no questioning her motives if she does join them. Andy has a problem with a 150+ year old genre of music? That's astonishingly prudish. Dude needs to stick coal up his butt so he can squeeze it into diamonds and get something valuable out of being such a tight ass.
PhycoKrusk
Hm, perhaps. However, I can state two things with total confidence: 1) Not a single one of us made sound decisions when we were teenagers; and 2) Dismissing the things that a teenager wants to do as "silly" only makes them more determined to do them
EliasArt2Life
I’m honestly against Cala joining the Peacekeepers. I think it’s pretty clear that this is a choice in direct conflict with who she is: she runs away from Krakotl culture and accepts human culture, gives up on art to run away from her biological father, listens to loud, violent music both to run away from her biological father and her old culture, she even started eating fish, running away from the culture she knew all the more. Every action she has taken over these 5 years has been about distancing herself from her past. So why has she now decided to choose a career that pushes her TOWARDS that past? Simply put, I do not think this decision is being made from a psychologically sound state of mind. Cala needs to talk this stuff through with a therapist. Besides, no one blames her for what she did. She was the child soldier that got all other child soldiers a blanket pardon. Most people don’t care about her species. The person who still needs to forgive her is herself. And she’s not going to forgive herself by joining the Peacekeepers. She could save the whole Earth, and she’d still only be able to remember that moment where she pressed that button aboard the Extermination Fleet.
