The Nature of Predators - Venlil Foster Program (1/14)

Memory transcription subject: Callsi, Venlil Bartender

Date [standardized human time]: October 15, 2136

The young Venlil sat at his desk, vibrant markers in paw. His cream-colored cowlick fell into his eyes, concealing the emotions in his horizontal pupils. It was striking how closely he resembled his father, down to the expression quirks. The drooping of his ears, which had grown too fast for his body, revealed when he was upset. That’s how I knew he was pouting now.

I idled in the doorway. “Jimek, you understand why we have to do this. Right?”

Jimek was twelve years old, more than two-thirds of the way to Venlil adulthood. The personnel at the pairing agency commented how they’d assign a similarly-aged predator. My boy was afraid that this human’s arrival would lead to more bullying, just at home. This was the only place he felt safe, with how cruel others were to him.

I knew he didn’t like to talk about the cuts on his upper lip, or the torn-up drawings he had in his school locker. There was nothing wrong with my son; he just liked to doodle and spend time in his own head. The other Venlil resented Jimek because he was talented and intelligent. How could I expect a soft-spoken child to hold his own, with a Terran? However much I needed the cash, I wouldn’t let this beast victimize my boy.

“Jimek, look at me.” I removed the marker from his grip, and peered down at his drawing. It was a blotchy sketch, abstract and full of anger. “Costs are rising, since we left the Federation. This program is the only way I can pay for your art classes.”

“I get it, Mom. But to have it living here, all the time…” he whined.

“Please don’t use ‘it’, sweetie. If the human feels discriminated against, we could be kicked out the program.”

“Discriminated against? The second he hears what people think of me, he’ll join right in. Meaner than them too.”

“I won’t let him terrorize you. We’ll keep the human as separate from us as possible, okay?”

My boy snatched his marker back, and returned to coloring in a huff. With Jimek’s emotions in shambles, I couldn’t process my own feelings about giving a predator a lair, in my home. The government’s presentation, persuading us to sign up, was rich with all the standard ‘Human Positivity.’ They provided every example of Terrans’ cross-species bonds, drilling home their empathy on repeat.

The transport service from Earth was supposed to arrive any minute. I made my way to the front door, and tried to keep myself from shaking. How certain was I that an immature predator could control themselves, living around prey all day? There wasn’t going to be any access to flesh meals, like this alien was reliant on.

It’s a crazy idea, to think Venlil can foster these things. I just need to save up money for a few weeks.

I stared out the window for several minutes. All I could imagine was forward-facing eyes, hovering over my son as he slept. As the van rolled up in my driveway, I knew that it was too late to turn back. The creature that hopped out was as tall as me, and he wasn’t a fully grown specimen. This was the first time I’d seen a human in person; even adolescents were terrifying.

The Terran child was sporting a visor, but I could tell that he was staring at our bungalow. My home was a modest dwelling, with crumbling siding and chipped paint; the predator must be judging us already. His furless hands carried a small bag, full of keepsakes from Earth. Had the Venlil government searched that case for weapons? Could I let this thing in without checking?

A Venlil officer scampered out of the vehicle, and urged the human along. The refugee seemed shy on approach, but he made it to my porch quick enough. The Venlil chaperone pulled my door-whistle, waiting with an expectant look. Steeling my nerves, I tugged open the door. Perspiration congealed on the predators’ pallid skin.

“Hello, Miss Callsi. This is Dustin Curtis, an orphan from the Canadian tribe.” The Venlil shoved a clipboard at me, and thrust a pen into my hands. “Sign here, and I’ll leave you to it.”

I inspected the document, recognizing this as my last chance to back out. Skimming the text, several worrying clauses popped out. For starters, it listed an agreement not to hold any government entity liable, should the predator cause ‘bodily harm’ during his stay here. It also stated that we were responsible to provide the same level of care as the law mandated for a Venlil.

The care officer tapped her foot impatiently, and I jotted a few scribbles onto the page. My heart was racing, with a human standing right across from me. I knew I was supposed to invite Dustin in, but the words wouldn’t come to me. The Venlil chaperone pushed the predator over the threshold, fearless to manhandle a beast. She clicked the door shut behind us, in a rush to move along.

Dustin shifted on his paws. “Um, hi.”

“Hi?” I squeaked. “L-let me s-show you…to…your lair.”

The human ducked his head, revealing a messy, brown mane. Freckles dotted his cheeks, unhidden due to a stark lack of fur. I tried not to look at him, and managed to stumble toward the back of the house. His chin swiveled from side-to-side, taking in the floral wallpaper and the indoor garden. His quietness was unnerving; it must be some form of calculation.

I took him to a storage room, which I’d cleared out enough to fit a water mattress. It was all I could do not to think about how Jimek would be sleeping two doors down the hall. That notion tempted me to throw Dustin out of my house, here and now. But if humans could control themselves during the exchange program, surely there wouldn’t be an immediate incident.

“Thanks.” The Terran tucked his bag on the floor, and coughed. “What are the house rules?”

“N-no drinking or drugs, c-clean up after yourself, no vulgarity, and show r-respect to me,” I answered shakily. “Also, you’re expected to work hard on your studies.”

Keep your visor on, and don’t interact with my son, I wanted to add.

Dustin tilted his head, with uncanny similarity to a Venlil. “Wait, I’m going to school, on Venlil Prime?!”

“Well, we all hope you’re not here long. Hopefully just a few days…d-depending what happens on Earth. But Tarva w-wants the kids to go to school, if you’re here m-more than a week,” I stammered.

“I understand. I’ll do whatever you tell me, ma’am.”

“Good. Well, I’m going to…s-serve d-dinner soon. Uh, you want some? It’s…salad…”

“Okay. I am kinda hungry.”

Panic swelled in my chest, as I wondered how long it’d been since the human had eaten. I sprinted into the kitchen, and pulled salad leftovers out of the fridge. I hurled shovelfuls into the bowl as quickly as I could; it struck me how inadequate this meal was. Alkaine was a popular leaf vegetable here, but greens couldn’t possibly be enough for him. The ulinberries added natural sugars, while the michin beans and cozan root offered fiber. Would this dish hold a candle to meat?

The Venlil government assured me that humans could subsist off an herbivore diet, for short durations. But even if Dustin could handle prey food for a day or two, he would start to crave flesh eventually. Was it a good idea to have an unsated predator eat around me? I made sure to serve the human double the portion I’d give Jimek.

I almost threw the dish on the table, ignoring the clang as it landed. The Terran orphan approached with caution, and watched as I scurried backward. I gestured to the plate, noticing how my ears were pinned against my head. The predator settled down by the salad, and stared at it for several seconds. He must be disappointed with this offering.

Dustin cleared his throat. “Um…do you have utensils?”

In my haste to serve the human food, I’d forgotten to give him cutlery. It was surprising that a predator wouldn’t just bury their face in the meal, and chow down with those suitable fangs. I retrieved a longpick with a shaking paw, handing the single-pronged device to the creature. Dustin accepted it slowly, and inspected it.

A relieved exhale trickled from my mouth, as the human stabbed through an alkaine leaf. It felt unnatural to see a predator consuming vegetation, especially when he didn’t spit it out. Trying to remember my manners, I retrieved a glass of isuel juice from the fridge. Venlil liked something to drink with meals, though it wasn’t clear if predators let flavors linger. I knew the Arxur liked to savor their kills.

“This is really good,” the human growled, through a mouthful of food. “Thank you.”

I quietly fixed helpings for Jimek and myself. “You’re w-welcome.”

“Ma’am, uh, am I bothering you by eating out here? I could go to my room if you prefer.”

The pamphlet says that ‘feasting’ is a human communal activity. Dustin could report solitary eating as abuse…we have to act normal.

“N-no, of course not. We Venlil, just, uh like to stand up,” I lied.

The human bobbed his shoulders. “Okay. I just feel like I’m making you uncomfortable.”

“Jimek? Dinner’s ready. Come out.”

The little Venlil shuffled into the kitchen, and his shoulders were slumped in defeat. He strayed as far from the table as he could, taking his salad bowl from me. I didn’t need to tell him not to sit with Dustin; Jimek leaned against the counter by me. My son picked at his food, tears swelling in his eyes. His pupils kept darting toward the leaf-eating Terran.

Dustin’s head swiveled with interest. “This is your son, Miss Callsi?”

“Yes…his name is Jimek,” I answered flatly.

“Hi Jimek. I’m Dustin. Thanks for letting me share your home.”

The little Venlil slammed his salad bowl down. “I don’t want you here! Go away!”

Before I could stop him, my son ran back to his bedroom. His dinner sat barely touched on the counter, and my sensitive ears could hear him bawling. Dustin flinched, before returning to his own food with less enthusiasm. The predator didn’t offer any further conversation; I think he’d picked up on my tentative approach.

My meal tasted bland and nauseating, with the amount of fear I was experiencing. Jimek had just gotten on the human’s bad side…he’d screamed at a predator. That all but guaranteed this creature was going to seek retribution, and turn his life into a living nightmare. It was foolhardy to lob such vitriol at Dustin. Now, I really hoped this alien was only here for a few days.

The Terran stood up from the table abruptly, and I startled. My own bowl tumbled out of my hands, spilling food all over the floor. I heaved an exasperated sigh, unable to cope with my terrifying reality. How could Governor Tarva send this thing to a school, around Venlil children? Did she want to traumatize the youth?

The human child lowered his head, and brought his bowl to the sink in silence. I was amazed to see he’d flown through the double-portion so quickly; he didn’t seem to be rushing. That revealed how much food could fit in those carnivorous jaws at once. Dustin rinsed out his dish, finding the soap under the sink without asking. He dried it with nimble hands, and shuffled off to his lair without a word.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” I muttered to myself. “This is nothing like caring for a Venlil child.”

Ultimately, Dustin hadn’t done anything wrong. It was his mere presence that spooked me, not anything threatening about his actions. I needed to find a way to normalize and minimize our encounters; perhaps the child needed a violent hobby to occupy himself with. That might keep him out of our fur, other than for basic necessities.

I knelt on the floor, and cleaned up my salad with a sigh. The government stipends weren’t adequate compensation for this hassle, but I needed the cash. Other Venlil must have learned tolerance somehow. This human child was under my roof for a few days, at least, and I had to find a way to smooth things over between us.

Next 

A/N - The promised new miniseries, following the 'Venmom' bartender from Part 82! Callsi takes in Dustin to save for Jimek's art school, but her bullied son is less than thrilled about the idea. How can our human makes in-roads with his hosts?

As always, thank you for reading and supporting!