The Nature of Predators - Venlil Foster Program (9/14)

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Memory transcription subject: Callsi, Venlil Bartender

Date [standardized human time]: October 31, 2136

The bar was teeming with predators, as UN personnel swarmed our establishment. One of my coworkers came down with a stomach bug, so I was picking up an extra shift. Dustin and Jimek tagged along, fresh off an uneventful day of school. The children didn’t hide in the back this time; several customers asked to see the foster brothers by name.

Our family was becoming well-known among the refugee populace; my workplace was the spot to be for humans. Kaulin stomached his discomfort, and socialized with recurring customers. My boss did squeal when one drunken human slapped his back yesterday. Since that incident, the dark-furred Venlil distanced himself during conversations. He might’ve also welcomed Gojid spikes on his spine for good measure.

Humans comprised the majority of our attendees, though some Venlil traffic had returned. Native diplomats and scientists tagged along with a few packs; those people had worked alongside the predators for awhile. A handful were in the exchange program, and their closeness to a particular beast was a dead giveaway. I knew firsthand how easy it was to bond with Terrans.

“Callsi, look at me now. There’s something wrong with the predators tonight. I told you we can’t have them killing anyone!” Kaulin hissed.

I forced a neutral expression. “What do you mean?”

“If you spent less time chatting it up with Olek, you’d see! They’re wearing weird pelts, fake fangs, scary masks, and even blood! They’re flaunting markers of death and violence.”

My gaze swept around the bar, gauging Kaulin’s assessment. There was a high concentration of Terrans in strange garb. Approximations of rotting flesh and skeletal bones abounded; it was a disturbing phenomenon. Wearing masks concealed their identities too, if they were planning a pack assault. The prop weapons some carried might not be as phony as they looked.

Dustin and Olek don’t seem to mind. They would warn us if we were in danger.

“Maybe it’s some kind of mourning ritual for Earth?” I offered, though my words lacked conviction. “Let’s talk to my son. He’ll know.”

Kaulin mumbled curses, as we made our way over to the boys. The two children were admiring the mounted TVs, and bantering with each other. Dustin brightened as he spotted me; the human kid didn’t react like his surroundings were indicative of danger. Perhaps he was desensitized to monsters on Earth, given the wild predators that inhabited his world.

To think that Lisa called our traditions morbid, while her own race molded themselves into monsters! I would do my best to understand the humans’ rationale, but this atmosphere did not give off positive energy.

“Hey, Dustin…can you tell me why there are Terrans covered in blood here?” I wrapped an arm around his neck, and tried to swallow my fear. One nearby human was dressed as a reptilian predator, not dissimilar to the grays. “And dressed up as terrible creatures?”

Dustin frowned. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t even think how weird that is to you. Today is an ancient holiday called Halloween back on Earth. Based on superstition, of course.”

“Okay. What is that superstition, exactly? Is it dangerous to us?”

“It’s all just a tradition, not anything harmful. As far as I know, Halloween is the day where we communicated with the spirits. The lines between the living and the dead are blurred.”

“So this Halloween is about dead people…crossing back over from the afterlife? It’s a supernatural holiday then.”

“I guess. That wasn’t too predatory, was it? I don’t wanna scare you.”

“No, darling. You’re far from the only species to believe in a spirit realm. It shows that humans miss the departed, like us. Some Venlil still say ghosts haunt old buildings, you know.”

“Yeah!” Jimek interjected. “Nana says she feels Gramp’s presence. She even sees him sitting in his favorite chair sometimes.”

Nana is just lonely, I thought to myself. She shouldn’t be filling my son’s head with that nonsense.

Dustin palmed his chin. “Huh, really? We have similar stories. We build attractions to recreate haunted houses. There’s a lot of scary things we do for fun on Halloween.”

That earned an undisguised look of distaste from me. The human couldn’t have said anything more tone-deaf. As someone who’d bordered on a breakdown several times this week, I could assure him fright was anything but enjoyable. It was a predator’s depravity to seek out fear and its debilitating effects.

Were the humans so removed from being preyed upon, that terror was exotic to them? I found the entire notion insensitive to the real threats Venlil faced. It was either making a mockery of our instincts, or suggesting that the Terrans enjoyed death and peril. The gruesome traditions lumped into a spiritual holiday made it appalling.

“Back up. I don’t get it!” Kaulin spat. “What do fallen souls have to do with bloodthirsty costumes? Are you gonna attack someone and claim the ‘spirits’ possessed you?”

“No, uh, it’s all part of it. Our ancestors would impersonate the dead souls, and seek offerings on their behalf.” Dustin scratched his mane, and grimaced at his own words. “Not living sacrifices…just like food…aw crap, it started for good luck.”

Jimek pinned his ears back. “So these Terrans are representing dead people?”

“Uh, no, that’s not the modern deal. Nowadays, kids just dress up as spooky things, or something that we like culturally. Then we go door-to-door asking for candy. It’s just a goofy pastime, you see?”

I exhaled a heavy sigh. “The fact that you turned death into a party game is bother—”

A high-pitched noise emanated from the televisions, and Jimek grabbed at his ears. My son had removed his bandage from Cylek’s torment; the scar was sealing itself up nicely. Human heads swiveled around, while the Venlil customers stared in equal confusion. Fear pumped through my veins, leading me to place an arm around both kids. If there was a planetary raid, we needed to rush to a bunker in a hurry.

It has to be that. The government hardly makes emergency broadcasts for anything else, but where are the raid sirens?

Governor Tarva appeared on the screen, a disturbed expression on her face. The middle-aged Venlil’s support had dipped after first contact, though her numbers had rebounded slightly. She wasn’t as suicidal as many assumed, given that the Terrans were behaving like allies. The recovery of the Gojid cradle had been a particular victory; humans were the ticket to beating the Arxur.

Earlier victories were brought up by the Governor’s media team, in an attempt to win the public over. Noah and Sara’s tireless appearances sowed some doubts, and the empathy tests were scientific proof of their intentions. The Venlil exchange program volunteers shared their stories, promising that humans only looked like monsters. Marcel’s torture made the Federation seem oppressive, while he was the victim.

Bringing millions of refugees to our homeworld was a stretch, though. It was one thing for the public to consider the positive outcomes, and another to walk past a predator in the street. With sufficient time, I thought most Venlil could adjust to humans. But the public hadn’t been eased into the situation, given the sudden influx from Earth.

Tarva pinned her ears back. “Greetings, citizens of the Venlil Republic. I am about to share with you an interview from Aafa, revealing a centuries-long conspiracy against Federation member races. The Kolshians and the Farsul want to control us all, to the point of erasing our culture. They also forced genetic edits on other races.

But don’t take my word for it. You’re going to hear it from Chief Nikonus’ lips. I hope that some good will come of this; that you will realize our closest allies are no different than races we worked with for centuries. The humans are not the only meat-and-plant eating race to have existed.”

Audible gasps sounded around the bar, and the Terrans gave the screen their full attention. I was having difficulty processing Tarva’s words myself. That couldn’t be right; there were two predatory sapients in the galaxy! There were no other races with forward-facing eyes, so it must be one of the extinct species. Maybe the Arxur had wiped out their rivals, and the Kolshians covered it up?

A shaky video feed morphed across the television, depicting an unhinged Gojid badgering Nikonus. I couldn’t blame the spiky guy for getting upset, given the Kolshian’s claims. The Venlil across the bar looked shell-shocked, hearing that the Arxur were starved first. Had those monsters really not instigated the war? It was horrifying to think any blame fell on us.

A Harchen reporter calmed the Gojid, who was identified as Captain Sovlin. That was the sadistic officer who inflicted suffering on Marcel for laughs; his actions were monstrous to any decent person. Nikonus spoke about the Krakotl being former omnivores, and this time, the humans in the bar were floored. I knew the predators hated the avians, so they must be at an emotional loss.

Olek slapped the counter with a hoot. “I fucking knew it! I told you all the Feds were experimenting on their own people. It’s gene probing shit, which everyone said was crazy talk!”

Jimek shivered. “Mom? Were the grays f-friendly at first?”

“I…I don’t know, darling. I have no idea,” I murmured.

The Kolshian implied that anti-hunter religions were falsehoods, perpetrated against dozens of other races. This interview unraveled my entire understanding of the galaxy. Predators were bloodthirsty beasts that lashed out for cruelty’s sake; the humans were a special exception that could control those urges. Other Venlil in the bar looked physically ill, on the verge of passing out.

Shit, the Terran customers must be pissed that we lied to them! What must they think of us Venlil now?

Governor Tarva reappeared on screen. “Do you know what the Federation told us? That we’re the weakest race, and that we’re too emotional. I’m asking all of you to make a choice, not to let them define us any longer. They don’t control our thoughts. We choose our own destiny, and we choose love not fear.

The converted races are people that we’ve worked alongside for years. Why are the people of planet Earth any different, my friends? To the humans listening, I am sorry that I was not playing with a full deck, as you say. I feel shocked and duped as anyone, but I want to make this right. We all have the choice to make this right today.”

The emergency broadcast switched off, and the bar was consumed by a heavy silence. Kaulin stared at the humans, as though they could answer his questions. I felt confused and hollow myself. This meant that nothing about the Venlil was authentic; all of our beliefs were Federation byproducts. Even the demonic Arxur were created by our alien allies, who we trusted to protect us.

Wetness pressed against my cheek, which made me realize I was crying. Dustin shot me a concerned glance, before checking that a sullen Jimek was okay. The human predators had been so terribly mistreated, without any good reason. Nikonus outright implied the primates had no intent of eating us. A whimper trailed from my throat, and I reached under the counter for a liquor bottle.

Olek jumped from his bar stool, and shook his head fervently. “No, no, no! Callsi, look at me!”

I could feel other Terran customers staring at me, as guilt entombed my heart. Human kids were threatened with flamethrowers, just because of their eyes. Olek himself was held at gunpoint multiple times, for trying to get a drink with his friend. The unfounded prejudice they endured was unthinkable; I didn’t know how they could forgive us.

You were part of that, Callsi. You took Dustin in to use him for money.

“Hey, it’s okay. None of this is your fault.” Bulky arms wrapped around my body, and Olek constricted my shoulders. “I’m sorry that the Venlil have been lied to. You must feel hurt.”

“W-we hurt you,” I choked out. “W-we’re…not good friends.”

“What are you talking about? Everyone in this bar is alive because of the Venlil! Dustin is here because of you.”

Jimek slumped his shoulders. “I was mean to Dustin on his first day. I told him I didn’t want him around.”

“It’s okay, little bro,” my foster son whispered. “Actual predators were mean to you. I get it.”

“But you shouldn’t have to get it.” I leaned against the bar counter, swallowing hard. “You shouldn’t have to worry about scaring us, and live under constant scrutiny. The Venlil hurt you when you’re suffering most.”

Bondarenko removed his glasses. “Callsi, the Venlil talked to us when nobody else would. You supported us against the entire galaxy, and fought alongside us at Earth. Humanity will always be here for you.”

Dustin snarled at Jimek, and several Terrans offered supportive barks. The primates with Venlil companions were comforting their friends, ignoring their own feelings on the matter. I thought about what Nikonus said, that nobody wanted to see a human walking around. The Venlil public had sided with him before today.

Governor Tarva implored us not to let the Federation define us any longer. I couldn’t undo my past mistakes, but I could do right by humanity today. Every Venlil had the chance to choose kindness, and to realize that Terrans were no different than other species. Dustin’s presence put me on the path to cleansing my thoughts.

Perhaps this broadcast would be a turning point for Venlil society. Other businesses might open their doors to humans, and not just for the bottom line. Public perception would become evident soon enough, when the time came to bring Dustin to art school. There were mere days until I was springing the human child on the institution.

It remained to be seen if the post-conspiracy world would be more charitable to predators.

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A/N - Part 9 is here! Callsi learns about the death-centric holiday Halloween, but her focus is drawn from the costumed humans. We see how Cilany's interview was revealed, and Tarva's pleas in the aftermath. Will this be the catalyst for human acceptance on Venlil Prime? Will Dustin get into art school?

As always, thank you for reading and supporting!