#hooty mouth noise
So there has been a bit of “what if humans were the weird ones?” going around tumblr at the moment and Earth Day got me thinking. Earth is a wonky place, the axis tilts, the orbit wobbles, and the ground spews molten rock for goodness sakes. What if what makes humans weird is just our capacity to survive? What if all the other life bearing planets are these mild, Mediterranean climates with no seasons, no tectonic plates, and no intense weather?
What if several species (including humans) land on a world and the humans are all “SCORE! Earth like world! Let’s get exploring before we get out competed!” And the planet starts offing the other aliens right and left, electric storms, hypothermia, tornadoes and the humans are just … there… counting seconds between flashes, having snowball fights, and just surviving.
To paraphrase one of my favorite bits of a ‘humans are awesome’ fiction megapost: “you don’t know you’re from a Death World until you leave it.” For a ton of reasons, I really like the idea of Earth being Space Australia.
Earth being Space Australia Words cannot express how much I love these posts
“What in the nine skies is that?” High Colonizer Blrp gestured its cilia at the funnel cloud that had formed on the horizon.
Seth peered out at it long enough to be sure it was headed their way. “On Earth, we call them tornadoes. We should really get underground now.”
Another of the alien colonizers approached. Seth couldn’t remember what they were called. They reminded him of chinchillas. “Underground? Why? What can it do?”
As if to answer the colonizer’s question, the tornado mowed over a tree, ripping it by its roots out of the dirt and tossing it aside on its way to the outpost.
“It can do that,” he said. “Now hurry up. Hawkins will take you to the basement. I’ll follow as soon as I’ve sent out the alert to the nearby colonies.” They didn’t need to be told again. Both colonizers took off to find Hawkins.
When Seth joined them in the shelter he found the colonizers all huddled in a corner together, watching the ceiling and whimpering every time the wind picked up. Hawkins had pulled out a portable gaming device and plopped down on one of the empty bunks. Seth stretched out on the one across from her and wished he had stashed some books down here.
“How can you be so calm with all this going on?” High Colonizer Blrp asked. “This whole world could be perishing as we speak. We need to evacuate.”
“Perishing?” Seth scoffed. “One little tornado isn’t going to take out a whole planet. Hawkins over there is from Kansas. They had tornadoes there once a week when she was growing up.”
Hawkins chucked her pillow at him. He caught it and tucked it behind his head, though he wished she would have thrown the gaming device. “Hey, screw you. It was three times a month at best.”
The chinchilla alien shuddered. “How did humans ever survive long enough to get off planet?”
Seth shrugged. “We just did our best, I guess. We found shelter, learned to figure out what to watch for, and we kept rebuilding after the damage was done.”
On the other bunk, Hawkins dropped her game onto the mattress next to her and dug her nails into the sides of her face. “Ugh, why did you have to remind me? I spent all week calibrating that satellite. Now I’m going to have to spend a month putting it back together and realigning it.”
Something overhead crunched, and then they were all deafened by the sound of shrieking, twisting metal. The chinchilla alien shrieked. High Colonizer Blrp paled and pulsated with fear. Seth ran his hands through his hair. It was so easy to forget that they came from planets that never had natural disasters.
“You know what I think we need? A good old fashioned Earth distraction. Does that thing have any books on it, Hawkins?”
“A few.” She tossed it over to him. “Knock yourself out.”
Seth flipped through the selection and picked one of his old favorites. “This one’s perfect. It’s about a guy who lives underground.”
“Is he a human historical figure?” the chinchilla asked.
High Colonizer Blrp brightened a shade. “Did he teach you the technique for hiding from tornadoes?”
“Well, no. He’s made up. But made up stories can serve an important purpose, too. They can teach us things about ourselves, or they can make a bad thing seem less bad. Here. Listen and decide for yourselves.”
He cleared his throat, tapped the book icon, and began to read.
“’In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit…’”
Inspired by various tumblr posts.
Humans quickly get a reputation among the interplanetry alliance and the reputation is this: when going somewhere dangerous, take a human.
Humans are tough. Humans can last days without food. Humans heal so fast they pierce holes in themselves or inject ink for fun. Humans will walk for days on broken bones in order to make it to safety. Humans will literally cut off bits of themselves if trapped by a disaster.
You would be amazed what humans will do to survive. Or to ensure the survival of others they feel responsible for.
That’s the other thing. Humans pack-bond, and they spill their pack-bonding instincts everywhere. Sure it’s weird when they talk sympathetically to broken spaceships or try to pet every lifeform that scans as non-toxic. It’s even a little weird that just existing in the same place as them for long enough seems to make them care about you. But if you’re hurt, if you’re trapped, if you need someone to fetch help?
Youreally want a human.
Humans also get a reputation for being pants-shittingly insane:
Humans want to go everywhere, you see that black hole? They’re trying to go in that to ‘explore’
Humans jump out of flying vehicles at heights that would most certainly kill them with only a piece of cloth strapped to them to save them, they do this for FUN
Conversely humans, a species that cannot survive without air, plunge themselves into the depths of their planet’s horrifying oceans until their bodies can’t take the pressure then they created vehicles to go further
Humanity didn’t wait to develop a sensible propulsion system to escape their planet’s atmosphere they strapped a metal tube to bombs and shot themselves out into the vacuum of space
If a human says something will ‘be fun’ assume that it’s probably life threatening
“Where are you going with that flotation device?” Quilx’tch asked his friend as the human passed by carrying a currently un-inflated raft.
Quilx’tch was quite proud of himself for being able to identify the device. After all emergency safety equipment was not really in the traditional scope of a nutritional anthropologist. However when one worked with human one learned to expand ones horizons.
“The satellites are finally working over this area and from the looks of it there’s some awesome whitewater just south of here on the Widow Maker.” The human replied with a grin. Shifting the giant device easily on one shoulder. “Smitty and me are going to try it out.”
Quilx’tch carefully flexed the legs on one side to tilt his head in the manner that let the human know he was considering his words. “White” was the term the humans used for their inability to distinguish between the visible color spectrum when several wavelengths were present at one time, how this modified ‘water’ was uncertain.
“So why are you doing this?” Quilx’tch asked curiously.
“Cuz it’s gonna be fun!” the human replied with a wide and eager grin. “Hey! You want to come? It should be safe enough.”
Quilx’tch was sorely tempted to join in the recreation but every hair on his exoskeleton decided to fully extend at that moment.
“Awe, that is so cute when you do that!” the human crooned in genuine admiration and from the way his fingers were twitching Quilx’tch guessed he was fighting the urge to pet the anthropologist with his free hand.
“I am afraid I must decline,” Quilx’tch. “I have to prepare for a presentation.”
“Well have fun with that you geek,” the human flung the friendly insult at him cheerfully, and Quilx’tch chattered happily at his retreating back.
He had worked long and hard to integrate himself into the humans’ social structure and that they felt comfortable enough around him to revert to their habitual behavior pleased him to no end. Normally he tried to participate in as much of their recreational activities as he could but…“Safe enough” paired with “fun” usually translated into “there is a greater than 80% chance that I can bring you back alive from this situation” usually followed by “hey, you can regenerate limbs right?”
For the moment Quilx’tch was quite content to go look up “white-water” and “flotation device” in the database for now.
So there has been a bit of “what if humans were the weird ones?” going around tumblr at the moment and Earth Day got me thinking. Earth is a wonky place, the axis tilts, the orbit wobbles, and the ground spews molten rock for goodness sakes. What if what makes humans weird is just our capacity to survive? What if all the other life bearing planets are these mild, Mediterranean climates with no seasons, no tectonic plates, and no intense weather?
What if several species (including humans) land on a world and the humans are all “SCORE! Earth like world! Let’s get exploring before we get out competed!” And the planet starts offing the other aliens right and left, electric storms, hypothermia, tornadoes and the humans are just … there… counting seconds between flashes, having snowball fights, and just surviving.
To paraphrase one of my favorite bits of a ‘humans are awesome’ fiction megapost: “you don’t know you’re from a Death World until you leave it.” For a ton of reasons, I really like the idea of Earth being Space Australia.
Earth being Space Australia Words cannot express how much I love these posts
Okay but imagine explaining the concept of Australians to aliens who have picked up Space Australians as slang for humans.
With a flick of an inner tentacle, the N’tauri gambling master dropped a venomous crefcrawinto the centre of the game table. The reaction was immediate.
Four fuzzy Limonstaars shrieked and dropped under the table to huddle in a mass of quivering fur. The three Kakrusch slammed on their face plates and rolled into the farthest corner like a particularly anxious avalanche. The Ighenou, the spider like creature whose species name translated into “Oh gods no get it off!” in a surprising number of languages, froze in the act of reaching for its pile of winnings and decided playing dead was the better part of valor.
Three of the four humans glanced hesitantly at one another. Not recognizing one of the galaxies most feared and lethal beings, notorious for its bad temper and willingness to strike anything that came near it out of an all consuming rage, or because it was hungry, or bored, or it was Tuesday. They were silently debating the options of hiding with the Limonstaars (cuddly!) or behind the Kakrusch (a solid barrier) when the fourth human at the table knocked back her drink and set the empty glass upside down over the irate little hissing thing which immediately started slamming a stinger half the size of its body against the glass.
“Oi Igghie!” She reached out a long brown arm and slid a flimsy credit sheet from the bottom of the pile. “I’m gonna borrow ya creds.” Slipping the credit sheet under the glass she lifted the tiny prison and its increasingly angry inhabit and and strolled over to the violently trembling N’tauri. “So does this go back to you or should I just chuck it behind the bar for you?” She held out the glass expectantly. The N’tauri keened and slumped to the floor.
“Incinerate it!” growled one of the Kakrusch, a cacophony of agreement roared through the bar.
“Ah, where do I do that then?”
“Out the corridor, s-second door to the right.” One of the Limonstaars piped up, fluffy ears barely visible over the table.
“Cheers, back soon!”
One by one the other aliens crept back towards the table, picking up their cards and glaring at the gambling master.
“They warned me about Terrans” the quivering mass of tentacle jelly wailed. “Whatever you’re thinking don’t try it on a Terran, those space australians will probably think its a proposition or a snack!”
One of the remaining humans reached out and patted the N’tauri approximately where its shoulder should be. “I wouldn’t worry about it.” He soothed, “I’m a Terran and I was terrified.”
“Well what the flying feschnark was she then?!” the N’tauri shrieked.
“Oh, didn’t you hear her accent? That was an Australian.”
Whodoesn’t need The Crocodile Hunter in space, I mean really.
“The Crocodile Hunter in Space”
“Hey mate! Look what I found under that rock! Isn’t is awesome!”
Quilx’tch leapt back from the writhing mass of scales, impossibly tiny (and razor sharp) talons, and apparently pure hate that the human was holding out to him with a wide smile.
“Tom,” Quilx’tch said, hoping that he had mastered the tones to project firmness to the human. “Is that dangerous?”
“Naw! Not a bit!” The humans scoffed.
“I mean is it dangerous to me?” Quilx’tch clarified. “Or anyone of my approximate size?” and my lack of insanity. Quilx’tch thought privately.
He could see the thought process going on behind the humans two giant eyes as Tom looked back and from between the toothy horror in his hands and the nutritionist. A frown creased his face *that means he is either thinking or discomforted*.
“Well I don’t think so,” Tom said slowly. “I mean it is pretty slow. You should be able to outrun it easy enough.”
“So you definition of dangerous,” Quilx’tch said, “is that it cant kill you if it can’t catch you?”
“Yup!” Tom nodded eagerly and thrust the horror forward again. “Ain’t she beautiful?”
I just need a huge anthology of the misadventures of Qulix'tch and his human friends haha
But this also bring in the concepts of crazy rednecks. How the hell will aliens even understand them?
@ask-the-guard-fireblastart why through country music and such cultural educational materials as THIS
Imagine telepathic aliens. Imagine aliens who have no concept of language, who maybe didn’t figure out writing or math until they were figuring out electronics, who still struggle with the entire idea of symbolic thinking, and then they find us. And they’re going “I can see the technology and cities, and it all looks made for and by these bipeds, but where is the sapience and WHAT IS ALL THIS EFFING HOOTY MOUTH NOISE?!” until someone wonders if the hooty mouth noise has meaning in it.
Imagine aliens going “OMG they’re communicating by noise” and “OMG they’re using code naturally” and “OMG they’re using open-ended productive recursive code how is that POSSIBLE” and “OMG writing” and “OMG they have THOUSANDS of codes”, and it’s all paraoxysms of academic delight and then someone discovers metaphor, and someone discovers encryption, and someone discovers slang and l33t and txting and emoji, and this entire telepathic species has its minds completely blown and the one who went “what if the hooty noise has meaning” wins the alien Nobel.
*hooty mouth noise of approval*
