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“Music Night during the Amity Incident”
There was a small flock of scientists with her now. Including a very sweet, very junior male whom T'reka kept accidentally deferring to out of social instinct.
Koku had taken to very prominently wearing his ID with the ‘Junior’ part of his 'Junior Assistant’ title highlighted with the help of the humans photo-reactive ink.
Her fellow hens, three of them, were easier. She had seniority, rank, and a certain amount of hygiene standards to mark herself above the others. She didn’t abuse her power. Though sometimes, the thought was more than tempting.
The one thing she was strict with them about was in regards to personal grooming. Dust-baths during exterior exploration days, water baths during in-camp days and regular treatments for parasites. Here, the humans were helpful. They had inventions to help prevent their own kind from injuring themselves through scratching or picking. And though Numidid had no use for spinner rings, they found that chewing gum would give a person prone to picking something else to do with their beaks.
But what surprised her the most was how readily her younger contemporaries and the humans adapted to each other.
The humans had a short, seven-day week. And on the Sun’s day, they would take their ease and perform various ceremonies strictly for relaxation and entertainment. The variety of this entranced Koku where it simply perplexed T'reka, and both would find themselves staring at whatever was going on on the humans’ stage.
And then Syriki shyly asked if she could sing up there, too.
Diminutive Syriki, she of the deep black feathers and the hushed voice, and the permanently cowed posture, surprised everyone that night by not only having a wondrously loud, but also tuneful singing voice. The humans were so impressed that they unanimously stood up to make their celebratory noise. Applause.
The following act - a cadre of human puppeteers with homemade chickens - seemed embarrassed to follow her on stage.
“It is your turn,” she murmured in English. “The showing must to go on.”
The humans all adored Syriki. They lavished her with any kind of kind attention and -T'reka noted in her journals- tended to baby her owing to her small stature. They could not turn down her gentle insistence.
It was a comedy act. Puppet chickens brawked and buckawed their way through a well-known human tune with the occasional appearance of a humorous ping-pong ball.
“Oh dear,” whispered Syriki, almost hiding under T'rekas wing. “I see why they were embarrassed, now. They didn’t want to insult me.”
And, to show there was no hard feelings, she glided from her perch to the stage and joined in. She had an immensely good time and, after a heart-stopping moment of shock and awe, so did the humans.
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