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The Nature of Predators - Venlil Foster Program (11/14)
🕑 Added 2023-03-08 12:00:07 +0000 UTC---
Memory transcription subject: Callsi, Venlil Bartender
Date [standardized human time]: November 12, 2136
Time passed with the human in our residence, with Dustin becoming an integral part of the family. There were hiccups along the way, but for the most part, humans had the same emotional needs as a Venlil. I’d come to enjoy his passionate speeches about animals, and the way he smiled at Jimek. I somehow began to look forward to the sight of his canines.
The binocular eyes had become invisible too, in Dustin’s specific case. Our routines had been adjusted to include the Terran; that included Jimek and I’s television pastimes. Against the odds, the predator took a shine to The Exterminators and its cast. He even took a few action figures from Jimek, and argued with us about character ships.
I returned from a productive day at the bar, getting to work on a protein-rich salad. The boys were due to return from art school soon, and I was excited to hear about what they’d accomplished this week. The Terran only told me that he was painting something special. Dustin had been moved up to intermediate classes with Jimek, which surprised many faculty members.
“Mom! We’re home!” Jimek shouted.
The little Venlil rushed into the kitchen, and grabbed food straight out of the preparation bowl. As I turned to scold him, Dustin snapped up a michin bean with paint-stained fingers. The children snickered, absorbing my screams to wash their paws. While I was happy the human was relaxing, I wouldn’t mind if he returned to obedience.
These two are nothing but trouble, especially given how they share the same bad ideas.
Jimek rushed off to wash his paws, as requested. The Canadian orphan shed his backpack, and excitement glimmered in his pupils. He reached for an item, despite not having put any soap to his palms. I gave him the tail sign for “Go”, hoping I’d been able to impart a few rudimentary words. The human squinted with focus, and his eyes rolled back into his head.
It was evident that tail discernment didn’t come to him naturally, but I was willing to be patient. It was best to learn so he wouldn’t be left out of conversations, or have others talk about him behind his back. Dustin didn’t have a tail of his own to practice with, which hindered memory retention. Given his intelligence, I was confident he could still learn through observation.
“Go?” The orphan flashed his teeth, after I mimicked a human nod. “Okay…where?”
“To wash your filthy hands. Gross!” Jimek hadn’t dried his paws, and proceeded to fling water droplets at Dustin. “Look Mom, I’m helping!”
“Everything doesn’t have to be a game, Jimek. I saved for months to send you to art school. Why don’t you sit down and behave as a ‘thank you?’” I huffed.
Dustin poked his tongue through his lips, then messed up the little Venlil’s cowlick. Jimek pulled away, extending his own tongue at the predator. With a pointed cough, I repeated the “Go” tail signal at the human. My foster child raised his hands in mock surrender, and scampered off. I shook my head, returning to chopping vegetables.
Jimek tiptoed up to me, and placed his holopad on the counter. “Before you hear it from someone else, our school went viral online again. One video, particularly.”
“What happened now?” I hissed.
“So you know how we have rest periods? The humans need physical activity, so their embassy brought toys for them to run around.”
“Oh please, for the love of everything sacred…tell me that physical activity isn’t combat.”
“Well, you know, that answer is unclear?”
My pupils snapped away from the salad bowl, and I inspected the video with escalating horror. Human children lined up on two sides of a field, clutching colorful spheres. I recognized Dustin’s tousled mane, among the ones eyeing opponents in a threatening way. My foster child rocked back, and hurled the object toward another boy.
The arm torsion was remarkable, as he drilled the rival in the chest. The kid he hit looked flustered, before jogging off the pitch. The other Terran children were pelting each other too, and trying to dance out of the projectiles’ path. Dustin scooped up another ball, searching for another mark. He sidestepped a throw aimed at him; every shot a human launched seemed right on target.
How could young predators be so adept at precision? There were no uses for this skill that didn’t involve attacking; the fact that they’d made this a game was sick. That wasn’t mentioning that said recreation involved hitting an opponent, even if the kids were shrugging off the blows. I could understand why Venlil faculty were running over, intervening in a panic.
The video is titled, “Human children practice stoning prey?” Surely this has a more benign explanation…right?
Jimek snatched his holopad. “It’s called dodgeball. Dustin had to look up how it started. It…it was originally a human war game.”
“Right. G-go on,” I managed.
“Human teams would throw stones at each other. When one person went down, the other team would try to incapacitate or finish them off. People died.”
“I don’t want Dustin playing any game that involves death! I…I don’t want to think about what I’d do if something happened.”
“The modern version is just for fun,” the predator’s voice growled from behind me. “It’s harmless exercise. It’s, uh, common in our gym classes at home.”
“You have official classes for physical activity?”
“Yeah? We have to, Callsi. It’s, well, a need for human kids to be healthy.”
Jimek flicked his ears. “Dustin didn’t want to tell you about that clip, Mom, so I said I’d explain. Humans’ll have a hard time explaining their games in general!”
No wonder wars were so prevalent on Earth, if even children found combat alluring. I was sure the United Nations would find some suitable bullshit to feed the public, which mentioned nothing my sons just told me. Many Venlil were warming up to humans, but even the smallest facets of Terran culture had dark undersides. It was tough to think of Dustin as an aggressive primate; I loved him, despite the constant predaciousness.
Olek had cautioned me that Terrans enjoyed violent games, but I didn’t think “games” included actual death. Hearing about today’s art school activities might boost my spirits. I swept the dodgeball out of my mind; my paws got back to work chopping vegetables. The boys peered at the salad with hungry eyes, and I gestured for them to sit down. The food wasn’t going to be ready any quicker by them getting in my way.
Dustin shot a devious look at Jimek, as they seated themselves. The human picked up a longpick in one hand, and a scooper in the other. Still wielding the silverware, he began pounding his fists on the table in sets of three. The little Venlil grabbed his own cutlery, and thumped the table in similar fashion. The clanging pierced my auditory receptors, causing me to grit my teeth.
I flailed my ears in exasperation. “Enough! Why don’t you fix your own food?”
That earned a lull in the chaos, as the boys fell into sulky silence. I fixed their portions with haste, and scurried the bowls over to the table. Once, that demanding display of appetite would’ve had me cowering. The first time I left Dustin home alone, I thought he was going to catch prey in the backyard. Worse was the fear that he’d snack on my son, the second his stomach started rumbling.
I plopped down by my own plate. “Dig in. There’s the food you needed with such immediacy.”
“Thank you, Callsi.” The Canadian orphan tore into his helping, and spoke with a mouth full of food. “I was just messing around.”
“I know. You know I’m not scared of you anymore, right?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Say it like you mean it. Because I’m telling the truth.”
“What changed?”
“Time. Cilany. Protecting my Jimek. But mostly the moments we have together, like this one.”
The requisites of Dustin’s welfare taught how dependent he was on me. Terrans were high-maintenance aliens, but that unveiled their unique struggles and vulnerabilities. My nurturing instincts won out where the orphan was concerned, even when I was watching him bean other children in the head. My gut reaction was to be concerned for his welfare.
I want to be the mother that nurses the big, bad predator’s wounds, and tells him it’s okay. I want Dustin to succeed just as much as Jimek.
The human shoved the food around his plate, and risked a glance at his backpack. There was still that refusal to accept any positive sentiments I voiced about him. If Dustin hadn’t figured out my affection for him, I didn’t know how else to prove it. All I could do was continue to work on my own biases.
Jimek sipped at his juice glass. “Seeing how talented you are helped a lot, Dustin. I was like, ‘Wow, he gets me!’ It’s cool to have someone to share my drawings with.”
“Oh, that reminds me! You two haven’t told me how art school went,” I said.
“We finished our first paintings, and we brought them home. Wanna see mine?”
“Sure, darling.”
The Venlil’s amber eyes shone with mirth, and he pulled out a canvas of his own carrying bag. I squinted in confusion, attempting to understand the shapes I saw. Jimek’s art was often abstract and angry, but this had some concrete elements sprinkled in. There were two floating gray circles, with one higher than the other; thick black lines were beneath them. Yellow orbs hung behind the gray spheres, occupying the center of the painting in menacing fashion.
I palmed my chin. “What is it supposed to be? I’m sorry, but I can’t tell.”
“It’s Vana and Cylek getting hit by a train!” Jimek giggled, and pointed to faint orange smears. “I made it tough to tell on purpose. Don’t wanna get accused of predator disease.”
“Oh. That’s…lovely, darling?”
“C’mon. You want them to get run over too!”
“I don’t actively wish harm on anyone…even that family. Well, a punch maybe, but death is a bit extreme.”
Jimek looked to Dustin for help, and the human shook his head. The little Venlil slumped his shoulders, stuffing his canvas away. I could see a smirk playing at the predator’s lips, though he was trying to hide it. I supposed he found the drawing of Vana’s imminent demise amusing. In a dark place in my heart, so did I; however, that was not a good example to set for my sons.
I fixed Dustin with an expectant look. “What did you paint? I’d love to see your work too.”
“Okay. Well, uh, it’s not perfect but I, er, tried to recreate your likeness.”
The Canadian orphan pried the canvas out of his backpack, and handed it to me with the utmost care. I marveled at how gentle Terrans could be. My paws accepted his creation with delicacy, not wanting to ruin his prized artwork. Warmth flooded my chest, as I soaked in the entirety of Dustin’s portrait.
The painting showcased two Venlil standing outside a bungalow, which bore a striking resemblance to us. Dustin had placed himself on my other side, with a smile on his face. The human had paid careful attention to every detail, tacking curls to my neck fur and cream patches to my son. Curiously, the artwork had purple splotches on Jimek’s silver coat.
Dustin scratched his neck. “I call it, Why is Jimek purple? Like I said, er, I know it’s not perfect—”
“It is perfect, darling.” I searched for a magnetic hook, and clipped it to the refrigerator. Careful not to topple the painting, I placed it on the metal addition. “I’m going to put it right here, so everyone can see it. Is that okay with you?”
“Yeah. More than okay.”
The Terran flashed his pearly fangs, and I resisted the urge to smother him with a hug. The Venlil faculty must’ve been pleased with his artistic talent; this boded well for more humans joining creative institutions. It was difficult to misconstrue Dustin’s interpretation of his foster family as anything predatory. I knew I was blessed to have two gifted sons under my roof, with gifts to impart to the galaxy.
Of all the kids on Earth, I was thankful that Dustin Leo Curtis was the one sent to my doorstep.
A/N - Part 11! Callsi learns about the predatory game taught at human schools across Earth, and tries to calm the children's mischief. Dustin and Jimek showcase their paintings, with our human orphan depicting his found family. Will Dustin be able to believe he's found a permanent home?
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