By nine in the morning, Emma Johnston had decided that whoever designed picnic tables hated knees.
“Hold it.”
“I am holding it.”
“It moved.”
“It did not.”
G’aikui T’resk put the level back across the tabletop.
Emma stared at him.
“You are checking it again.”
“Yes.”
“We checked it before we tightened the bolts.”
“Yes.”
“We checked it after we tightened the bolts.”
“Yes.”
“And now?”
“We moved it.”
“We flipped it over.”
“Exactly.”
Emma sat back on her heels.
“You know picnic tables do not need to be calibrated for orbital insertion.”
G’aikui looked at the bubble.
“This one is level.”
“That isn’t what I said.”
“I know.”
He smiled.
Emma pointed the impact driver at him.
“You enjoy this.”
“Yes.”
That answer came much too easily now.
Emma smiled despite herself.
The table stood on new grass only a few hundred feet from where they had fallen asleep the night before.
In daylight, the park looked completely different.
It was finished, or at least finished enough that nobody would have called it a construction site.
Fresh sod covered the broad open areas. Sections of wildflower meadow brought in from elsewhere in the Freehold softened the edges around the great empty pond and the large tree pits.
Some of the flowers were still flattened from being moved.
Others had already lifted toward the sun.
The pond itself was roughly a hundred feet across each way and about four feet deep, currently holding nothing except two workers and a collection of tools near one side.
The park surface sat noticeably below the surrounding houses, about half a meter beneath the feet of the porch stairs.
Yesterday evening, Emma and G’aikui had found it quiet.
Today it was not.
Older crews were building playground equipment near the far side of the park from locally harvested timber.
The sounds of saws, drivers and mallets carried across the grass.
Stacks of lumber became climbing structures, platforms, rails and frames with disconcerting speed.
Closer to Emma and G’aikui, another pile of cut boards and hardware waited to become picnic tables.
A lot of picnic tables.
Emma looked at the completed one.
“One.”
G’aikui looked toward the lumber pile.
“There are many more.”
“Thank you.”
“You sounded as though one was significant.”
“It is emotionally significant.”
“It is one table.”
“It is our first table.”
G’aikui considered that.
Then looked at it again.
“Our first table.”
Emma immediately regretted the wording.
He did not seem to.
Which somehow made it worse.
“Okay,” she said. “Next one.”
They walked back toward the assembly area.
Behind them, an electric side-by-side rolled across the edge of the park towing a small trailer with two finished tables strapped to it.
A human boy was driving.
Ph’etuv sat in the passenger seat.
Emma watched.
G’aikui watched too.
Three other girls rode in the rear.
One walked beside the trailer.
Emma said, “Your sister looks comfortable.”
G’aikui frowned.
“She was not in the front seat on the last trip.”
“No.”
“Another girl was.”
“Yes.”
He watched the side-by-side disappear around the block.
Emma smiled.
“What?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“That expression means you know something.”
“I know there is something.”
“That is not the same thing.”
“No.”
They reached the next table kit.
The pieces were already sorted.
Two bench assemblies.
Tabletop boards.
Cross supports.
Legs.
Hardware.
No hunting.
No missing parts.
No trying to determine which pile belonged to which table.
Emma appreciated whoever had organized it.
G’aikui picked up one end of the tabletop frame.
Emma took the other.
“Over there.”
They carried it onto a pair of low work stands.
G’aikui checked the parts against the instruction sheet.
Emma looked at him.
“You can stop counting.”
“I am verifying.”
“There are four legs.”
“Yes.”
“If there were three, I think we would notice.”
“Before or after assembly?”
Emma stared.
“Before.”
“Probably.”
“You’re doing it again.”
“What?”
“Arguing because you like when I get annoyed.”
G’aikui smiled.
“You make interesting faces.”
She threw a washer at him.
He caught it.
“You should not waste hardware.”
“I knew you’d catch it.”
“You did not.”
“No.”
He handed it back.
Emma took it.
Their fingers touched.
Neither moved immediately.
Then someone shouted from the playground crew.
“Get a room!”
Emma jerked her hand away.
G’aikui looked toward the voice.
D’rez was standing on a timber platform with a driver in one hand.
Andrew Sip was beside her holding the next section in place.
Emma looked at D’rez.
D’rez looked at Emma.
Emma’s eyes shifted deliberately toward Andrew.
D’rez’s eyes narrowed.
Emma smiled sweetly.
D’rez pointed the driver at her.
Emma turned back to the table.
G’aikui looked between them.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
“No.”
Emma picked up a leg assembly.
“Hold this.”
He took it.
“You and D’rez have become strange.”
“We understand each other.”
“That is what worries me.”
Emma laughed.
They bolted the first pair of legs into place.
G’aikui held.
Emma ran the bolts in.
They switched sides without discussing it.
He had already learned that Emma preferred using the impact driver.
Emma had already learned that G’aikui was much better at keeping heavy pieces exactly where she needed them.
By the third table, they barely spoke about the work.
“Up.”
Lift.
“Toward me.”
Shift.
“Hold.”
Driver.
“Other side.”
Move.
“Square?”
G’aikui checked.
“Good.”
“Your good or normal-person good?”
He looked offended.
“My good.”
“So excessively good.”
“Yes.”
They attached the benches.
Flipped the table upright.
Emma leaned against it.
G’aikui immediately checked whether it rocked.
It did not.
Emma said, “Three.”
“Yes.”
“You can sound more excited.”
“We have approximately twenty-seven remaining in this batch.”
“Never mind.”
Another side-by-side arrived.
Same human boy driving.
Different girl in the passenger seat.
Ph’etuv was now in the rear.
Emma stopped working.
G’aikui noticed.
“What?”
“Passenger changed.”
He looked.
“So?”
“So nothing.”
The vehicle stopped beside the completed tables.
The girls climbed off.
Almost all of them managed to reach the trailer at approximately the same time.
Emma watched.
One girl grabbed the front corner.
Ph’etuv grabbed the other.
Another girl walked to the driver’s side to say something to the boy.
A fourth offered him a bottle.
The fifth was already unfastening the tie-down.
G’aikui frowned.
“They are inefficient.”
Emma laughed.
“No, they are not.”
“They have five people delivering two tables.”
“That isn’t what they’re doing.”
“What are they doing?”
Emma looked at him.
Then toward Ph’etuv.
Then back.
“Oh.”
G’aikui followed her eyes.
He watched for several seconds.
“Oh.”
Emma smiled.
“You got that faster.”
“My sister is not subtle.”
“Neither are the other four.”
The boy said something.
All five girls laughed.
Emma looked at G’aikui.
“Was it funny?”
“I could not hear it.”
“Neither could at least two of them.”
G’aikui started laughing.
Ph’etuv looked toward them.
Emma immediately bent over the table.
“Work.”
G’aikui kept laughing.
“Stop.”
“You started it.”
“Your sister is coming.”
That stopped him.
Ph’etuv crossed the grass.
Emma picked up the level and pretended to inspect something.
Ph’etuv stopped.
“What are you doing?”
“Building tables.”
“You were watching us.”
“No.”
G’aikui said, “Yes.”
Emma stared at him.
Ph’etuv looked at her brother.
“You were watching?”
G’aikui nodded.
“There are five of you.”
Ph’etuv folded her arms.
“So?”
Emma pressed her lips together.
G’aikui looked toward the side-by-side.
Then back at Ph’etuv.
“You have changed seats three times.”
Ph’etuv’s face changed.
Very slightly.
Emma saw it.
G’aikui saw it.
Ph’etuv said, “We are sharing.”
Emma made a noise.
Ph’etuv glared.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You are terrible at saying nothing.”
“I learned from your family.”
Ph’etuv looked at the table.
“Is this ready?”
“No,” G’aikui said.
“Yes,” Emma said.
They looked at each other.
Emma pointed.
“We just need the last bench bolts.”
“That means no,” G’aikui said.
“It means almost.”
“Almost ready is not ready.”
Ph’etuv rolled her eyes.
“I will come back.”
She turned.
Emma said, “Who gets the front seat next time?”
Ph’etuv stopped.
Slowly.
She looked back.
Emma smiled.
Ph’etuv raised one hand and extended her middle finger.
G’aikui stared.
Emma burst out laughing.
Ph’etuv walked away.
G’aikui watched her go.
Then he looked at Emma.
“You understood that.”
“Everybody understands that.”
“So do I.”
Emma stopped laughing.
“You have that?”
“Yes.”
“The same gesture?”
“Yes.”
“The middle finger?”
“Yes.”
Emma looked at his hand.
Then toward Ph’etuv.
“That is weird.”
G’aikui frowned.
“Why?”
“Because apparently everybody with five fingers eventually decides that one of them is for telling somebody to go screw themselves.”
G’aikui considered that.
“V’ren did not receive the gesture from humans.”
“I know.”
“And humans did not receive it from V’ren.”
“I know.”
“Then why is it the same?”
Emma shrugged.
“Five-finger convergence?”
“That is not an explanation.”
“It sounded scientific.”
“It was not.”
Emma laughed.
G’aikui looked toward Ph’etuv again.
“What do humans call it?”
“Giving someone the finger.”
He turned back.
“That is imprecise.”
“Of course that bothers you.”
“There are five fingers.”
“I know.”
“Which finger?”
“The finger.”
“That is circular.”
“It’s English.”
G’aikui sighed.
“There must be a proper term.”
“There are lots of terms.”
“How many?”
Emma smiled.
That should have warned him.
She pulled out her phone.
“Let’s find out.”
She opened Urban Dictionary.
G’aikui looked at the screen.
“What is this?”
“Educational material.”
He looked suspicious.
“This does not appear educational.”
“It’ll teach you things.”
“That is not the same.”
Emma searched.
The results appeared.
G’aikui began reading.
His expression slowly changed.
“Giving the finger.”
“Yes.”
“Flipping someone off.”
“Yes.”
“Flipping the bird.”
“Yep.”
“Giving someone the bird.”
“Same thing.”
“Middle-finger salute.”
“Also same thing.”
He scrolled.
Emma picked up her taco from the wrapper beside her and took another bite.
G’aikui kept reading.
“Why does one gesture require this many names?”
“Humans got bored.”
“That is not a linguistic process.”
“It absolutely is.”
He scrolled farther.
More definitions.
More slang.
More examples.
G’aikui frowned harder.
“These definitions disagree.”
“Urban Dictionary.”
“One says this phrase means the gesture.”
“Probably.”
“Another says it means something else.”
“Also probably.”
“This is a terrible reference source.”
“You’re having fun.”
“No.”
“You are.”
“No.”
Emma took another bite of taco.
G’aikui continued reading.
He reached another example.
His eyebrows drew together.
Then he looked at Emma.
“Eat your taco.”
Emma stopped chewing.
“What?”
He gestured toward the food in her hand.
“Your taco. You should eat it before it becomes cold.”
Her phone chimed.
Siri had apparently decided assistance was required.
The Urban Dictionary results disappeared.
A new search began loading.
Emma looked down.
Her eyes widened.
“Nope.”
She grabbed the phone.
G’aikui blinked.
“What?”
Emma locked the screen.
“Nothing.”
“You just took the phone.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Siri decided to become too helpful.”
“What did it search?”
“Nothing you need today.”
G’aikui reached toward the phone.
Emma moved it away.
“What was it?”
“No.”
“You told me this was educational material.”
“I lied.”
“You said it would teach me things.”
“It nearly did.”
“What things?”
Emma pointed her taco at him.
“You are too young for that discussion today.”
G’aikui stared at her.
“I am older than you.”
“That is irrelevant.”
“It seems extremely relevant.”
“Nope.”
“What did Siri find?”
“Eat your taco.”
He frowned.
“That is what I told you.”
“Correct.”
“You are holding a taco.”
“Also correct.”
“So why is this a problem?”
Emma took an enormous bite.
G’aikui watched her chew.
“You are avoiding the question.”
She nodded.
He waited.
Emma kept chewing.
Finally G’aikui said, “English is defective.”
Emma swallowed.
“That is the correct lesson.”
He pointed at her phone.
“I want the definition.”
“Later.”
“When?”
“Much later.”
“How much?”
“Not today.”
“That is not a measurement.”
Emma laughed so hard she nearly lost the taco.
G’aikui looked offended.
“You caused this.”
“I did not tell Siri to search it.”
“You gave me Urban Dictionary.”
“That was my first mistake.”
“Your first?”
“My second was letting you read unsupervised.”
“I was sitting beside you.”
“Exactly.”
He held out his hand.
“Give me the phone.”
“No.”
“I want to finish the list.”
“You can finish the middle-finger list.”
“That is what I was doing.”
“Without asking Siri anything.”
“I did not ask Siri.”
“Especially without accidentally asking Siri anything.”
G’aikui sighed.
Emma unlocked the phone.
She found the original search again.
Then turned Siri off before handing it back.
G’aikui noticed.
“You disabled it.”
“For your protection.”
“From vocabulary?”
“Yes.”
“That sentence makes no sense.”
“Welcome to Earth.”
He resumed reading.
Emma finished her taco.
After another minute G’aikui said, “Why is it called the bird?”
Emma looked at him.
“I have absolutely no idea.”
He sighed.
“You are very poor at explaining your own language.”
“I speak it. Nobody said I designed it.”
“That would explain much.”
She threw a napkin at him.
He caught that too.
Later, when Ph’etuv returned for the completed table, G’aikui looked at her.
Then deliberately raised his middle finger.
Ph’etuv stopped.
Emma made a choking sound.
Ph’etuv stared at her brother.
G’aikui looked pleased with himself.
Emma said, “Oh God.”
Ph’etuv returned the gesture.
G’aikui nodded.
“See? Communication.”
Emma covered her face.
The human boy driving the side-by-side started laughing.
One of the other girls laughed too.
Ph’etuv loaded the table.
Emma looked at G’aikui through her fingers.
“You have been on Earth sixteen days.”
“Yes.”
“And this is what you learned.”
“I also learned how to build a picnic table.”
“That does not help your case.”
The side-by-side departed with another pair.
Ph’etuv was not in the passenger seat.
Emma saw her watching the girl who was.
“Oh, this is going to be entertaining.”
G’aikui shook his head.
“I am not becoming involved.”
“Of course not.”
“I mean it.”
“You absolutely should not get involved.”
He looked at her.
“You want me to.”
“No. I want to watch you try not to.”
“I will succeed.”
“Sure.”
They started another table.
By noon they had worked themselves into a steady rhythm.
The park gradually acquired furniture.
Some tables went near the pond.
Others beneath areas where the young trees would eventually produce shade.
Several were positioned closer to the playground.
The delivery crew kept cycling through.
Every time the side-by-side returned, the passenger arrangement had changed.
Not always.
Often enough.
Emma began noticing without trying.
Ph’etuv in front.
Then another girl.
Then Ph’etuv.
Then somebody else.
Once, somehow, two girls attempted to fit into the passenger position before one was ordered into the back.
Emma nearly dropped a bolt laughing.
G’aikui looked over.
“What?”
She pointed.
He saw.
“Oh.”
“Sharing.”
“That is not sharing.”
“I know.”
The side-by-side pulled away.
G’aikui watched his sister disappear.
“She teased me yesterday.”
“Frequently.”
“She should know better.”
Emma smiled.
“Know better than what?”
He thought about it.
“I do not know.”
“That’s the fun part.”
They broke for lunch beneath one of the tables they had built themselves.
Emma sat on one bench.
G’aikui sat beside her rather than across.
Neither commented on that.
They ate tacos.
G’aikui had venison.
Emma had beef.
He stole one of hers.
She stared.
“You have food.”
“I wanted to compare.”
“You’ve had beef.”
“Not this beef.”
“That was my taco.”
“Yes.”
Emma took one of his.
G’aikui watched.
“Then that is my taco.”
“I am comparing.”
“That is theft.”
“You established the precedent.”
He smiled.
Emma took a bite.
The picnic-table delivery crew returned while they were eating.
The human boy parked near the stack.
Ph’etuv jumped out of the rear.
One of the other girls was in front.
Again.
Emma looked at G’aikui.
He was already looking.
“No.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were going to.”
“I was going to eat my taco.”
“Your face said something else.”
Emma smiled.
“You know my faces now.”
“Some.”
She leaned her shoulder against his.
“Good.”
He did not move away.
Across the park, Ph’etuv noticed them.
Emma waved.
Ph’etuv raised the same finger again.
G’aikui immediately returned it.
Emma closed her eyes.
“No.”
“What?”
“You are encouraging her.”
“She began it.”
“That was hours ago.”
“The meaning has not changed.”
Emma looked at him.
“Do not open Urban Dictionary again.”
“I was not going to.”
“Good.”
“I saved the page.”
Emma stared.
G’aikui smiled.
She pointed at him.
“You are a menace.”
“I know what that word means.”
“That worries me.”
After lunch, they built more tables.
The afternoon turned hot.
Emma tied her hair back.
G’aikui rolled his sleeves.
Both acquired dirt, sweat and small smears of grease from the hardware.
The work stopped being novel.
Then stopped being tiring.
Then became tiring again.
Around three, Emma sat on the tabletop of the latest finished table.
G’aikui stood between the benches.
“How many?”
“Seventeen.”
“Today?”
“Yes.”
Emma looked at her hands.
“I have built seventeen picnic tables.”
“Yes.”
“I had never built one before breakfast.”
“You are improving.”
“Thank you.”
“The first one took much longer.”
“Compliment withdrawn.”
He smiled.
She nudged him with one boot.
G’aikui caught her ankle.
Emma froze.
He froze.
Neither said anything.
Then Emma smiled.
He let go.
She slid down from the tabletop.
They stood close.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hello.”
“You’re supposed to kiss me.”
G’aikui blinked.
“That was a signal?”
“Yes.”
“That one was not clear.”
Emma took his shirt lightly in one hand and kissed him.
That was clearer.
When they separated, G’aikui looked thoughtful.
Emma laughed.
“Do not analyze the kiss.”
“I was not.”
“You were.”
“I was thinking that was easier.”
“What was?”
“When you tell me.”
Emma softened.
“Okay.”
“I like when you tell me.”
She nodded.
“I can do that.”
G’aikui kissed her this time.
No instruction required.
A side-by-side horn sounded.
They separated.
The delivery crew had returned.
Ph’etuv was staring at them from the trailer.
Emma waved.
Ph’etuv made the gesture again.
G’aikui immediately raised his hand.
Emma grabbed his wrist before he finished.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because now you are doing it recreationally.”
“I understand the meaning.”
“That is exactly the problem.”
The human boy driving apparently asked Ph’etuv what was happening.
She said something.
He looked toward Emma and G’aikui.
Then smiled and waved.
Emma waved back.
G’aikui did too.
The other girls immediately resumed talking to him.
All of them.
Emma watched.
“Your sister has a problem.”
G’aikui nodded.
“Yes.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Nothing.”
“Good.”
“I am learning.”
They went back to work.
Near the playground, D’rez and Andrew had moved to another section.
Emma occasionally caught sight of them together.
D’rez occasionally caught Emma looking.
Each time, one of them smiled.
Neither mentioned sunrise.
The arrangement remained intact.
By late afternoon the stacks of unfinished table parts had become much smaller.
The completed park looked more inhabited now.
Picnic tables dotted the grass.
The playground frames had taken recognizable form.
Workers had started packing tools.
The delivery crew made another run.
Ph’etuv was in front this time.
Emma watched the side-by-side disappear between the houses.
“Think she finally won?”
G’aikui looked at her.
“Won what?”
Emma laughed.
“There you are.”
He frowned.
“You just said I understood.”
“You understand something is happening.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t know what.”
“No.”
“That may be safer.”
They finished another table.
G’aikui checked it.
Emma did not object this time.
“Level?”
“Yes.”
“Square?”
“Yes.”
“Does it wobble?”
He pushed against it.
“No.”
Emma sat.
G’aikui sat beside her.
They looked across the park.
The empty pond.
The young trees.
Wildflowers cut from old Freehold meadows now growing in the middle of a city that had barely existed.
Picnic tables they had built.
Playground structures rising behind them.
People walking through a place that had been bare ground days before.
Emma rested her head against G’aikui’s shoulder.
“You know this is the park.”
“Yes.”
“From last night.”
“Yes.”
“You’re not going to make me say everything clearly, are you?”
He thought about that.
“Not everything.”
“Good.”
He rested his head lightly against hers.
Another side-by-side approached.
Emma heard it before she saw it.
She did not look.
G’aikui did.
Then laughed.
“What?”
“Ph’etuv is not in the front seat.”
Emma lifted her head.
She looked.
Ph’etuv sat in the rear beside two of the other girls, glaring at the passenger seat.
Emma smiled.
“Tomorrow is going to be interesting.”
G’aikui sighed.
“She is not going to tell us anything.”
“She won’t have to.”
“How will you know?”
Emma leaned back against him.
“Faces.”
He smiled.
“I am learning those.”
“Some.”
“Some.”
They sat there until the side-by-side returned for the table in front of them.
