Challenge #01930-E106: Deathworlder Rituals
You can’t not look at explosions. -- TheDragonsFlame
There were warning signs up surrounding Unsuitable Food Eat. Humans celebrating inside. Small, harmless explosions expected. Fireworks warning. And a pictogram of sparks and explosions with an alert sign. Even the newest of Havenworlders to the Galactic Alliance learned that Humans liked to celebrate with sparking fireworks, loud noises, and shocking expulsions of streamers, as well as other loud noises.
And inside, was a typical Human party. Loud people. Loud accessories. Loud clothing. And a host of very, very quiet spectators on the upper balcony. Some were wearing offensensitivity protection[1] and crews of Mediks were available for those suffering from distress. The sight of a curlytoot alone was enough to send some Havenworlders rushing off to emergency care.
And yet, many gathered to see the humans set a fire on top of food and sing their bizarre song. Just one of their many rituals that confirmed their species as insane. And some pondering the sanity of those who merely came to watch. Rael was not there as an observer. He was there as a guest.
Shepard Marken was having his fifth birthday. Therefore the Markens were throwing a celebration for friends and family. Shepard wore a plastic crown and grinned avariciously for every guest entering the restaurant. Shayde, already there, was wearing a tissue paper crown and a bunch of cheap gimcrack play jewelry. Rael could tell at a glance that the Ambassador had already had too much sugar, and was encouraging young Shepard to do the same.
"It's no' a good party unless yer right sick the next day, ye ken," insisted Shayde.
"It's a good party if you have good memories from it," insisted Rael. "I gather this is where I make my offering of material goods to the celebrant?"
Lyr glared at him. "You've been through this four times. Stop pretending you don't know how birthday parties go."
Shepard, too, glared at him. "It's not funny any more, Uncle Rael."
Shayde said, "Stop fishin', th' bait ain't workin'." Which meant that she, too, had spotted the attempt at humour and found it wanting.
He handed over the present. "This should make up for it then. Congratulations on surviving another year."
Shepard rolled his eyes as he said, "Thank you," and then unwrapped the bright paper to find his gift. A holographic puzzle cube with real-time interaction capabilities.
"A glass box?" asked Shayde. Of course, she was the only one who saw it like that. And Shepard was glad to show her how it worked. Every now and again, modern technology would confound her, and she would instantly become like a confused grandparent. Her final judgement was, "Ah. No wonder me twiddle toys got put aside fer later. Kids these days. What happened tae experimentin' and messin' aboot wi' stuff?"
Definite grandparent mode. Certainly, her arrival on the Galactic Scene had caused a few revivals, but the past was very much a different country[2]. Rael laid a consoling hand on her shoulder and said, "I'm sure Shepard will appreciate your gift on his own level in his own time." Code for, They'll see it your way in an undetermined future.
And in the meantime, they were about to set fires on the cake. Any party with cake involved was definitely worth the temporary inconvenience.
[1] Since Havenworlders are especially delicate, offensive sensory input can literally kill someone. Thus, those who wish to toughen up their own genome wear devices that can reduce the impact of said input to the point where the impact is survivable.
[2] They eat weird food, dress funny, speak a different language, and you really shouldn't trust the water.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / jgroup]
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