Kraag shuddered
inwardly as the passenger next to him took its seat. Although he agreed, largely, with human politics and methods in the Federacy,
he had the most difficult time conversing with them. Now he had a several-hour transit sitting next to one.
"Hello,"
the human said, extending a hand. "My name is Jones."
Perhaps
it would be pleasant after all. Kraag wound his primary tentacle around the extended hand. "I am Kraag," he replied. "Delighted
to meet you. There are so few humans on the Lines now."
"Yes, it's
too bad. We don't usually get out this way."
Ah,
yes, Kraag thought, remembering why he disliked the species. I make a simple statement of fact and it replies with
a value judgement. How tedious -- exhausting, in fact. Kraag tried to remember how he had dealt with this in the past.
"I represent
Twufy Industries," Kraag said imperturbably, offering a small infogram. "We produce and distribute an obscure yet intricate
part used in the factories which create synthetic brains."
"Oh, that's
nice," the human replied, causing Kraag to recoil slightly. "I'm a synthotherapist. I work with older brains which have become
unbalanced, lethargic or embittered."
Ah,
Kraag thought. A quack. "And do you find yourself able to extend their operational lifetime?" he asked.
It nodded.
"In most cases, we are able to postpone retirement for about eight years to a decade -- so we increase average brain lifetime
by about ten percent, which makes the service economical in most cases, especially with the larger, more expensive brains."
"I have
observed that many brain specialists do not substantiate the effectiveness of such therapy. Some state that, since there is
a fifteen year margin of error on the average brain's operational expectancy, a ten year increase does not indicate success."
"Yes, and
it's unfortunate that these people haven't taken the time to understand the work we do. It would be so much better for everyone
involved, especially the brains themselves, if they understood that we do not extend the theoretical duration so much as extend
the practical duration by allowing the brain to utilize more of its potential. But some engineers have begun advocating the
therapy, so things are getting better."
"I see,"
Kraag managed. "If you will excuse me... I must relieve myself." He swung his large form toward the xilt restrooms, squeezed
into one of the upper cubbyholes, and shook quietly for a few moments. I can't do it, he thought. I'll have to stay
here for the rest of the trip.
"You appear
to have some difficulty," another xilt commented while rubbing sand on its anterior.
"My neighbor
insists on offering me valuations during our conversation."
"I see,"
the xilt replied. "I have noticed that some species have social conventions which seem quite outlandish to us. It sounds like
your companion behaves as if you're about to be mated."
"What can
I do?" Kraag agonized.
"Perhaps
I can help," the other xilt offered, dusting off the excess sand. "What species is it?"
"It's human."
The other
xilt waved his tentacles in the air. "You have my sympathies on your misfortune," he said, and hurried from the restroom.
Squeezing
deeper down into his cubbyhole, Kraag contemplated his options. He simply could not avoid the human for the duration
of the transit. His primary duty was to show respect for alien life forms in any circumstances. When not on one of their twenty
home worlds, every xilt understood that it represented the species, and the species could not afford poor relations with other
Federacy groups simply because he, Kraag, did not want to listen to some human synthotherapist's valuations.
The Parent
Office had assigned Kraag his job as an ambassador, negotiator and salesman to other species because of his ability to communicate
effectively with them. He realized that somewhere in his inner self, Kraag must have the solution to this problem, either
remembered from his training or developed from his decades of experience.
Kraag retreated
into his inner self, whose name was Foip.
"Hello,
Kraag," the beautiful female xilt said as they lounged in a hot spring in the wilderness. "It's good to see you again."
"I'm
glad to be here, Foip," Kraag replied. "Unfortunately, I must not stay long."
"How
sad," his inner self replied. "What is the matter?"
Kraag
quickly outlined the difficulty.
"Yes,"
Foip agreed, "that is a problem. However, you have learned a way to short-circuit the human tendency to subjectively evaluate
information."
"What
is it?" Kraag asked eagerly.
"The
dirty joke."
"Dirty
jokes short-circuit human valuation?" Kraag asked uncertainly.
"Yes.
In four of the six encounters you have had of this nature, the subject eventually turned to dirty jokes. In this case, the
human's laughter takes the place of its evaluation. It laughs or does not laugh, states that it understands the humor or does
not, but no explicit valuation usually takes place. In fact, even when it says, 'That was good,' or, 'That was terrible' --"
she trailed off.
"Because
it is in reference to a fiction," Kraag finished, comprehending, "the xilt mind can perceive the statement as an appropriate
response."
"Exactly.
It is no longer offering value judgements on the external world, but rather on an artistic endeavor. The xilt mind therefore
perceives the valuation as an objective statement of the joke's merit as a joke, in much the same way the xilt mind would
interpret the statement 'it is a good table' as being a statement about the construction of the table itself."
"Foip,
you are a genius!" Kraag exclaimed, rolling in the water. "I am so lucky to have you as my inner self!"
Foip
smiled. "Have a good transit," she said as Kraag departed.
Kraag hurried
from his cubbyhole, quickly sanded himself down, and returned to his seat. "Ah!" he said to the human. "Tell me, what is your
destination?"
"New Ganymede,"
it replied.
"This transit
is going to New Ganymede?" Kraag said, alarmed.
"No, I
have to switch over at the last stop."
"Ah." Kraag
quickly regained his good humor. "I was afraid that I had gotten on the wrong line. You know, it reminds me of this story
I heard once..." Kraag related the first dirty joke to the human, an outlandish and to Kraag somewhat undecipherable story
a human business man had told him in an earlier encounter.
"That's
very funny," the human said without laughing.
"Actually,
there's a better one -- " Kraag said, and related another dirty joke which Foip had supplied him with.
"It surprises
me that you know these," it responded when Kraag was done.
It's
working! Kraag thought elatedly. It's stopped offering valuations! The xilt from the bathroom motioned at Kraag
from the next row; Kraag ignored him. "Do you know any?" he asked.
"I'm afraid
I don't really remember them very well," it said.
"Perhaps
you've heard the one about--"
"Excuse
me," it interrupted. "I have to go to the bathroom."
As soon
as the human was gone, the other xilt came over to him. "You should not say these things to the human," he told Kraag.
"My inner
self told me that this would stop it from valuating, and indeed it has," Kraag responded.
"It has
stopped valuating because it is a female member of the species, and the stories you are telling are offensive a female human."
Kraag considered
this. "I had not realized that such gender isolation existed in human culture," he responded.
"In most
areas of interest it does not, but gender isolation does exist in the areas of sex, sports, and pay rates. I am a xenologist."
It gave Kraag an infogram.
"So what
should I talk about?" Kraag asked.
"I suggest
that you claim that you have a headache and pretend to sleep for the remainder of the transit," the xenologist replied.
"Isn't
that rude?"
The human
began working its way back toward its seat. The other xilt said quickly, "I can't explain now. Just do it." He swung away.
The human
sat back down next to him. Something about its bearing made Kraag ask, "Are you well?"
"Actually,
I have a headache," it responded. "I think I'll sleep for the rest of the transit."
What
a dumb species, Kraag thought, and spent the rest of the time listening to public broadcasts out of New Ganymede.
the end