The Nature of Predators - Venlil Foster Program (10/14)

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Memory transcription subject: Callsi, Venlil Bartender

Date [standardized human time]: November 3, 2136

This was a rare occasion where I asked for Dustin to wear a mask. As unfair as those requests were, the school’s first impression was of paramount importance. The faculty would be in over their heads teaching a predator, especially with how paws-on art instruction was by nature. It was difficult enough for the regular educators to lecture with binocular eyes trained on them.

Jimek was showing Dustin a collection of the Venlil’s famous artwork. A brief overview of Gojid and Zurulian pieces was sprinkled in too. While the core curriculum would be our native styles, the instructors touched on neighboring species’ collections. It would be a lot for my foster son to absorb.

After all, there was no telling how our expression compared to Earth’s doctrines. Not only were Terrans an unknown alien race, but they were untouched by cultural whitewashing. They wouldn’t adhere to Federation homogeneity. Their predator side might not appreciate the softer elements of our work either.

Stop assuming that predators are inherently different, I chided myself. They’re different because they’re aliens, not because of their diet.

Noticeable improvements had occurred since Cilany’s broadcast. Many businesses rescinded their human bans, and the “Don’t Run” campaign on social media persuaded civilians not to flee from Terran refugees. Braver individuals were making efforts to approach the predators in public spaces; some of my regulars returned to the bar as well.

Tibek, the grumpy veteran who’d objected to Dustin’s presence, was among the returnees. He’d paid his outstanding tab, but spoken little to Kaulin or myself. There was still no sign of Nalva, though I couldn't call that disappointing after she assaulted me days ago.

I breathed a heavy sigh. “We’re here. There’s your art school, right there. What do you think, boys?”

“It’s so concise and serene! The dome is welded so intricately, like the carvings of Tueln!” Jimek gushed. “And the stairs reflect the sunlight into the fountains. The walkway is one gorgeous rainbow!"

Dustin bobbed his shoulders. “Is that an exterminator insignia on the gate placard?”

“I’m afraid so. They’re one of the school’s largest donors,” I murmured.

Worryingly, that meant Vana might have connections to the faculty here. What if she’d found out that Jimek and Dustin had enrolled, and tried to blackball us from the program? This was challenging enough without her interference. We hadn’t run into her since the gravity arcade, but Cylek and his crew steered clear of Jimek at school. At least my son was rid of the incessant bullying now.

Dustin scowled. “Why would they fund something like this?”

“Because the exterminators hire graphic artists for their recruiting campaigns.” Jimek’s ears were perked up with tentative excitement. “They also need lifelike drawings of wild predators for PSAs.”

“Is that gonna be a problem, Dustin darling? I don’t want you to feel unsafe,” I said in a soft voice.

The Canadian orphan hopped out of the car. “That’s alright, Callsi. I can live with it. Don’t worry!”

I considered whether the human could handle this environment. My foster son’s shyness might be a blessing; he kept his eyes trained on the floor naturally. Even with the mask on, direct stares caused discomfort in most Venlil. It gave the impression of being dissected in a predator’s mind. I recalled my reaction to seeing Dustin’s unconcealed eyes for the first time.

Many herbivores assumed the worst about the lonely Terran orphan; I hoped that wouldn’t be the case today. Venlil children were milling outside, waiting for classes to begin. Stunned exclamations rippled through the crowd, and several kids pointed at Dustin. Games screeched to a halt, with the students snapping to high alert in an instant.

I pressed my paws onto Dustin’s shoulders, and steered him into the domed complex. Jimek raced ahead, gawking at the features on the walls. The human craned his neck with hesitancy, as though worried about sudden movements. We passed other Venlil in the hallway, earning frightful screams. Most faculty pulled themselves together, but their fur remained frazzled.

“I guess we shouldn’t ask for directions. The paper said to go to Office 207, in the left wing,” I muttered to myself.

My foster son shuddered. “I, uh, feel sick to my stomach, Callsi. They hate me, just like the kids at school avoid me. I’m never gonna have any friends.”

“Don’t say that! I’m your friend,” Jimek hissed.

“You live with me. You don’t have a choice…it’s like some kind of Stockholm Syndrome.”

“Some kind of what? You started doing that alien mumbo-jumbo stuff again.”

“Oh. Stockholm Syndrome is where people fall in love with their kidnappers. It’s a common psychological phenomenon.”

My eyes widened with alarm. Human abductions were regular enough on Earth to establish scientific research? I couldn’t fathom why a hostage would fall for a predator-diseased monster. It wouldn’t be far removed from Venlil cattle swooning over an Arxur raider, which was a laughable notion. Perhaps that “Stockholm Syndrome” lunacy was the same side of the Terrans that enjoyed Halloween’s fear.

Dustin ducked his head in shame, realizing he’d strayed from acceptable conversation. I ruffled his hair for reassurance; within reason, I didn’t want him to censor himself around us. Unless he started describing human aggression in detail again, I wasn’t going to shut him down. My responsibility was to support his cultural differences, and earn his trust.

“Over here!” Jimek had ventured ahead, and mapped out the rooms. He paced outside the administrator’s office, which had embossed brass doors. “This has a sign for new enrollees to check in here! I’m going to art school, I’m going to—”

I scurried up to him. “Calm down, please. You need to be on your best behavior, for Dustin’s sake.”

“Thank you guys for trying,” the predator whispered. “Whether I get in or not, you didn’t have to do this.”

I summoned my courage, and straightened my neck fur to look presentable. My claws rapped on the door, not wanting to barge in with a human. An enthusiastic voice shouted that she was coming. Pawsteps sounded against carpet, followed by the click of a door handle. This was our single opportunity to earn Dustin’s slot, and I wouldn’t let it go easily.

An elderly Venlil stared at us, and her pupils shot over to the human. I thought that she had a kind face; the folds in her ears suggested she’d been emotive over the years. The administrator didn’t seem surprised by the awkward predator. There was only a slight twitch in her jowls, which was a better reaction than I expected.

The Venlil senior swished her tail. “You must be Dustin and Callsi. I’m Administrator Evsi. Come in! An acquaintance of yours just dropped by.”

Confusion surged in my mind, clueless as to which acquaintance Evsi was referencing. Perhaps the Peacekeepers had come to plead Dustin’s case? I could see Olek swooping in, once he was finished gloating about the unveiled conspiracy. That human had peddled increasingly far-fetched tales the past few nights.

My heart plummeted into my stomach, as I saw a puffy Venlil on the couch. That was Vana’s silhouette, complete with a smug expression. Hatred flashed when she saw Dustin, but it seemed personal rather than human-phobic. This wealthy bitch resented my foster son for beating up Cylek. Because of her ties to the extermination guild, it was easy for her to meet with Administrator Evsi.

“Callsi! When I heard that you were enrolling the human mongrel from some lowlifes at your bar, I had to come here,” Vana purred. “Dustin already proved it can’t be peaceable in a school.”

My foster son furrowed his brow. “Who is she?”

“Cylek’s mother,” I whispered back.

Evsi settled in at her desk. “Go on, Vana. Tell me more.”

“My poor baby still has nightmares about that awful creature there.” Vana’s ear flailed about with fury, and she bared her teeth. “Cylek was one of several mauling victims…the monster there had the nerve to charge into a group of kids! What do you think he’ll do in your classes?”

“Nice speech. Is that all? The way I saw it, along with most of Venlil Prime, Dustin was protecting his herdmate.”

“I….you’re out of line! Do you know who I am? The exterminator guild funds your institution, and I can make phone calls to end that pipeline in an instant.”

“I don’t think the guild will want its reputation tarnished. Protecting predator-diseased kids due to personal connections? Who you know won’t save your son anymore. Besides, Volek is making PR moves to rebrand exterminators as ‘human-compatible.’”

“Evsi, d-don’t be ridiculous! Callsi is a bottom-feeder member of society. Neither of her mongrels should be here.”

The administrator huffed. “I’ve heard quite enough. Vana, remove yourself from my office at once.”

“It’s a human! Humans don’t have the slightest ability to create art or appreciate beauty. You’re going to have it drawing blood, and maimed visions of other students!”

“Leave. Now.”

The classist Venlil stormed out in a huff, shooting glares of loathing at us. Jimek swished his tail in a chipper farewell, and Dustin followed by waving a hand at her. Vana made sure to clip my shoulder as she left; I resisted the urge to shove her back. We couldn’t afford to ruin Evsi’s goodwill, and a physical assault would make us look no better than that bitch.

I can’t believe Vana went so far to stop us from getting into art school. At least her sway has diminished…and it prepared Evsi for Dustin’s arrival.

The administrator hopped up from her desk, and circled the human with intense scrutiny. Dustin slouched under her stare, uncomfortable with the attention. Evsi redirected her focus to me, while pulling up our applications on her holopad. A thoughtful expression tugged at her features; I hoped that meant she was considering accepting the boys.

“I don’t like that woman, but she has a point. Is a predator’s culture even capable of art on the same level as us?” Evsi asked at last.

I leaned over to Dustin. “Tell her about your art classes, or whatever it is Terrans draw.”

“R-right!” the orphan barked. “Um, we paint and sculpt and stuff. All sorts of styles, er, and classic pieces that we, like, still remember today.”

The Venlil administrator flicked her ears. “Why don’t you show me examples yourself, human? I’d like to see some paintings to decide for myself.”

“What? Are…are you sure?”

“Yes. I put in a request to the Terran embassy, but they haven’t gotten back to me. Maybe, as a favor, you could put them in touch with me? It would be wrong not to mention your art history this semester, with millions of humans living here.”

“Sure. We, um, know some people there.”

“Good boy…so, the artwork? I haven’t forgotten. Show me some pieces on your holopad.”

I peered over Dustin’s shoulder, as he scrambled onto the internet with shaking fingers. After a moment’s thought, he punched in The Starry Night by Vincent van Gogh. Melancholic swirls formed a night sky, in a way that grabbed the mind’s eye. It was astounding that Terrans could translate scenery into such moving interpretations.

The art administrator looked impressed as well, and observed the painting for several seconds. The human hesitated, as she requested another piece; I suspected Dustin was ensuring that his selections were safe for Venlil eyes. There was no doubt in my mind that Terrans had a vast collection of violent works. I hadn’t forgotten the zoology rant, where the orphan detailed their aggression.

Art is just a translation of feelings to paper. Of course some of Earth’s works would be dark and sickening.

My foster son ran through a series of portraits, depicting his species’ predatory visage. One called the Mona Lisa which was more than half a millennium old! I was surprised that such primitive beasts bothered with artwork. Other human-focused paintings he picked out were equally mystifying; many focused on mundane aspects of daily living.

It was impressive how details and shadows were captured; predator artists could pay attention to intricacies. I was captivated by how ordinary these depictions were, with subjects often just posing. Wouldn’t Terrans want to glorify warriors and hunters? Where was the anger resonating through their expressiveness?

Evsi hummed in approval. “Show me something less safe, Dustin. Something that branches out. Art captures the full breadth of expression, good or bad.”

“Um, I don’t know…” he mumbled.

I flicked my ears with reassurance. “Go on, darling. You’re not going to get in trouble.”

The Canadian orphan still looked uncomfortable, but he typed in the name “Jackson Pollock.” He angled his screen away from us, and sifted through images with a taut grimace. Dustin drew a shuddering breath, only revealing his selection when I coughed pointedly. This image had random globs and splashes of paint, lacking any pattern. The colors clashed with each other, overlapping across the canvas.

This was how I would’ve expected a predator to paint. It looked like a scientist handed a non-sapient a brush, and the animal started slapping at the canvas haphazardly. This was considered renowned artwork on Earth? I failed to see the meaning, the beauty, or the purpose of this piece. Evsi was taken aback as well, though she contained her reaction.

“With respect, Dustin, how are random splashes and streaks artwork?” The Venlil administrator shifted with discomfort. “There’s no pattern…no beauty. I respect abstract art, but this lacks any thoughtfulness.”

Indignation flashed in the human’s expression. “It isn’t about the image! This is about how it was made, not what was made. It’s a demonstration of science on a canvas.”

“How so?”

“Pollock used tools that broke the mold, and understood perfectly how gravity would affect paint. It’s not random; it’s technical genius! It was about resisting the rules of what is considered art…the unabashed defiance of traditional techniques. That’s the sentiment for you: nonconformity.”

Evsi was quiet for a long moment. She studied the paint scribbles with new interest, chewing on Dustin’s words. The zeal in the human’s voice was unmistakable, even if I didn’t quite get it. I understood the importance of the creative process, at least, even if the finished product didn’t suit my tastes. A Venlil who had devoted her life to art must appreciate technical difficulty.

Evsi steeled her expression. “Understood. Now, for my last request. I want you to show me something violent. Something predatory. I am certain that humans have paintings in that vein.”

“That’s, er, not a good idea. I, uh, don’t want you to hate me? No can do,” Dustin grumbled.

“If you want to attend these classes, I suggest you fulfill my requests. I have the final say on whether your species is artistically qualified; not Vana or anyone else.”

“I would, well, rather not. But if you insist…”

The human shot a nervous glance at me, and swallowed hard. Perhaps he was frightened about showing predatory displays to me; I had requested that he avoid difficult topics. Guilt pummeled me again, as I realized his fear was my doing. Summoning my courage, I struck an encouraging posture. This wasn’t within the confines of what I wished to learn, but I’d try to stomach it.

Just focus on your breathing, and how much you love Dustin, I told myself. There’s no reason to be scared of him. We have to do this for him to attend art school.

My foster son picked up on my assent, and pored over his holopad with reluctance. The quivering had spread to his shoulders; even with the visor, I could sense his fearful gaze. His delicate fingers typed in a final keyword, and he tilted the screen toward us. He turned his head away, unable to watch our reactions.

The translation proclaimed that this was Guernica by Pablo Picasso. It was tough for me to decipher what was portrayed, but it looked like violent chaos. Human body parts were strewn about, riddled with flames. Was this a depiction of corpses and gore? Why would Terrans turn death into an artistic romp?

Evsi recoiled. “T-that is…an unusual focus on dismemberment. I’m not sure this is something a Venlil should be exposed to.”

“Is t-this an imagining of humans hunting each other in the streets?” I stammered.

“No! This is considered the most moving anti-war painting in human history,” Dustin snapped. “It shows suffering, but only to highlight the horror of combat. Most artistic representations of war are a form of protest.”

The administrator sported an odd expression. “You think that suffering is art? This showcases your species’ worst attributes.”

“I think that art is a mirror. Sometimes an ugly one.”

Understanding dawned on me, and I allowed disgust to take root in my soul. This piece was supposed to elicit such aghast reactions from viewers; the artist wanted the atrocity to linger in the viewer’s mind. The abstraction emphasized the chaotic emotions to perfection. Furthermore, this item reflected a staggering level of self-awareness.

Terrans realized how execrable and predatory their kind could be. They knew aggression was monstrous, and they broadcasted that sentiment on their homeworld. Even the primitive humans recognized how their own kind were brutalized. Some of the wild ones wanted the carnage and bloodlust to stop!

Jimek paced with restlessness. “Dustin is really talented and smart, I’m telling you. Please let him attend here!”

“Well, the human definitely showed that he grasps art’s intricacies. While his own kind has their demons, clearly… I don’t think it warrants any real objections on my part.”

“So you’re saying he can go?”

“Jimek!” I hissed.

Evsi chuckled. “It’s alright, Callsi. I’ll review the paperwork with you, but I think we should give the human a trial.”

Dustin’s mouth part with surprise. “Uh, thank you. I appreciate your kindness, ma’am.”

“Of course. Why don’t you boys go to your class? Beginner sessions are in Room 1, down the hallway.”

“Beginner?” Jimek mumbled.

“Yes. You’ll be moved as needed according to your skill level.”

I swished my tail. “It never hurts to learn the basics. Move along, now!”

Before she changes her mind, I added internally.

My sons took the hint, and padded out of the administrator’s office. I could hear Jimek giggling with excitement, alongside Dustin’s muted voice. Things were changing on Venlil Prime, if a predator had been admitted with minimal obstruction. With the newfound inclusions, I hoped these creative activities would help my human kid flourish on our world.

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A/N - Part 10 (officially the first double-digits miniseries)! Vana tries to keep Dustin and Jimek from being admitted to art school, but the publicized incident lessened her sway. Evsi observes famed human art, and determines that we do have potential as a species.

Will Dustin succeed as the first human in a specialized program? Will it bring him closer to his foster family?

As always, thank you for reading and supporting! This chapter is dedicated to all the wonderful artists in the NOP community.