May 20, 2440
By the second block, G’aikui T’resk had decided humans were lying about their alphabet.
Not all humans.
Possibly not even deliberately.
But somewhere, at some point in human history, someone had clearly lost part of the English writing system and everyone since had agreed not to mention it.
Emma Johnston slowed the side-by-side as they passed the appliance staging area.
A row of kitchen ranges sat on pallets beside the lane, still wrapped, tagged by block and house, waiting for the older crews with dollies and lift equipment.
G’aikui turned in the passenger seat.
“Those are ranges.”
Emma glanced over.
“Yep.”
“They are stoves.”
“Also yep.”
“A range is distance.”
“Also yep.”
Behind them, Ph’etuv leaned forward between the seats.
“He has been thinking about this since the first block.”
“I know.”
“It bothers him.”
“I know.”
G’aikui looked back at his sister.
“It should bother everyone.”
T’waur, sitting beside Ph’etuv in the back, had her phone out.
Emma saw it in the mirror.
“Don’t.”
“I have done nothing.”
“You’re opening the translator.”
“I am investigating.”
“You already know what range means.”
“I know what Emma says it means.”
The phone produced several English definitions.
T’waur read them.
“Distance between two points. The difference between maximum and minimum values. An area over which something operates. Open land used by grazing animals.”
G’aikui twisted toward Emma.
“Exactly.”
T’waur continued.
“A cooking appliance consisting of an oven and burners or heating elements.”
G’aikui faced forward again.
“That does not improve matters.”
Emma laughed.
The side-by-side rolled past the ranges and into the next residential block.
Their trailer had been waiting for them when they returned from the last one.
No sorting.
No hunting.
No figuring out what belonged where.
Someone upstream had already done all of that.
The four-by-eight trailer behind them carried the household packages for all twelve houses on the block, stacked and strapped in delivery order.
Sixteen boxes per house.
One hundred ninety-two boxes total.
House One came off first.
House Twelve was buried deepest.
When they finished the block, they would take the empty trailer back, unhook it, hook up the next loaded one, and do it again.
Emma had heard someone say that Matthew Marmaduke required a shipping manifest and inventory report before taking a shit.
After watching the operation all morning, she was no longer certain it was a joke.
She turned into the alley.
The houses backed onto a six-meter service lane, garages and rear entrances facing them.
Adults were everywhere, hanging doors, moving furniture, carrying appliances, assembling beds, mounting shelves.
The younger kids had vanished somewhere into the neighborhood after being told, in several languages, to go play and stay out of the way.
Everyone between twelve and sixteen had apparently been converted into freight.
Emma stopped behind the first house.
“House One.”
G’aikui already had the manifest open.
“Sixteen.”
“It will always be sixteen.”
“I know.”
“You check every time.”
“Yes.”
Ph’etuv climbed over the trailer rail.
“He likes manifests.”
“I like correct manifests.”
Emma grinned.
“You’re going to love Matt.”
“I have been told this before.”
T’waur hopped down and pulled the first box toward her.
She read the label.
“M… S… T… B… D… R.”
G’aikui leaned over.
“Mstbdr.”
Both looked at Emma.
She read the rest.
“MSTBDR SHEETS KING.”
Emma pointed toward the house.
“Master bedroom. King sheets.”
Silence.
Ph’etuv looked down at the box.
Then at Emma.
Then back at the box.
“No.”
Emma laughed.
“Yes.”
G’aikui took the carton from T’waur and inspected the label himself.
“MSTBDR.”
“Master bedroom.”
“It does not say master bedroom.”
“It absolutely does.”
“It says mstbdr.”
“That means master bedroom.”
“That is not the same thing.”
“To us it is.”
G’aikui shook his head.
“You have removed important parts of both words.”
“Still readable.”
“To you.”
“Which is kind of the point.”
“No. Writing is the point of writing.”
Ph’etuv was already digging out another box.
“CFMKR 12 CUP AUTO.”
She stared at it.
“C… f… m… k… r.”
Emma answered immediately.
“Automatic twelve-cup coffee maker. Kitchen.”
Ph’etuv slowly turned toward G’aikui.
G’aikui slowly turned toward Ph’etuv.
T’waur said, “There is no coffee in that word.”
“There is enough coffee.”
“There are five letters.”
“Coffee maker.”
“CFMKR.”
“Coffee maker.”
G’aikui held out his hand.
“Give me the box.”
Ph’etuv handed it over.
He looked at the product picture on the side.
A coffee maker.
He looked at Emma.
“That is cheating.”
“What is?”
“The picture.”
“I didn’t look at the picture.”
He checked her face.
Emma smiled at him.
Just slightly longer than she needed to.
Ph’etuv saw it.
T’waur saw Ph’etuv see it.
The sisters exchanged a look.
G’aikui picked up the coffee maker.
“KIT?”
“Kitchen.”
He carried it inside.
Ph’etuv waited until he was through the door.
Then she looked at Emma.
Emma immediately reached for another box.
“What?”
“I said nothing.”
“You were going to.”
“I was not.”
T’waur smiled.
Emma pointed at her.
“You too.”
“I also said nothing.”
“That’s worse.”
G’aikui came back out.
“What is worse?”
“Your sisters.”
“Yes.”
Ph’etuv put a hand over her heart.
“That is cruel.”
T’waur pulled another carton free.
“BLNDR NINJA 15N1.”
G’aikui stopped.
“What?”
Emma leaned past him to read it.
Her shoulder brushed his arm.
“Blender. Ninja brand. Fifteen-in-one.”
G’aikui looked at the label.
Then at Emma.
Then at the label.
“Blender.”
“Blender.”
“B-L-N-D-R.”
“Yep.”
“You removed both vowels.”
“Apparently.”
“Why?”
“To save space?”
“There is empty space on the label.”
Emma looked.
There was.
“Okay. I have nothing.”
Ph’etuv laughed.
G’aikui tapped the Roman letters with one finger.
“This is why I do not believe this is your alphabet.”
Emma stared at him.
“What do you mean you don’t believe it’s our alphabet?”
“This.”
He pointed again.
“These symbols.”
“Those are letters.”
“You say they are letters.”
“They are.”
“The spoken language contains considerably more information than the written language.”
“Sometimes.”
“Frequently.”
“Okay, frequently.”
T’waur pulled up V’ren text on her phone and held it beside the package label.
To Emma, the V’ren script looked like compact clusters built out of smaller marks, sounds fitted together into little geometric units. She had begun recognizing a few repeated shapes, but reading it was hopeless.
G’aikui pointed between the screens.
“This is writing.”
He pointed at the box.
“This is evidence recovered after writing.”
Emma snorted.
Ph’etuv lost it completely.
Even T’waur had to sit on the trailer edge.
Emma took the blender from G’aikui.
“Kitchen.”
“I knew that.”
“I know.”
She headed inside.
Ph’etuv watched her go.
Then looked at her brother.
G’aikui was already reaching for another box.
Ph’etuv looked at T’waur.
T’waur gave the smallest possible nod.
House One took seven minutes.
They came back out for House Two.
Emma climbed behind the wheel.
G’aikui walked around toward the rear seat.
Ph’etuv immediately climbed into it.
He stopped.
“That is my seat.”
“No.”
“You sat in the back.”
“I have changed seats.”
“Why?”
“I want to sit with T’waur.”
T’waur moved all the way over, leaving plenty of room beside her.
G’aikui stared at both sisters.
Emma stared very carefully through the windshield.
Ph’etuv smiled.
“You should sit in front.”
“There is no operational reason.”
Emma said, “You have the manifest.”
Ph’etuv bit her lip.
T’waur looked out the side of the vehicle.
G’aikui considered that.
“Yes.”
He climbed into the passenger seat.
Emma started the side-by-side.
Behind them came a small choking sound.
G’aikui turned.
“Are you all right?”
Ph’etuv nodded rapidly.
“Yes.”
T’waur was staring at the floor.
Emma pulled away.
At House Four, G’aikui handed her the route display.
Their fingers touched.
Emma looked at him.
Again, just a little too long.
Ph’etuv was carrying a box marked BATH TOWEL SET 8.
She almost walked into the rear door.
T’waur caught her arm.
G’aikui noticed.
“Pay attention.”
Ph’etuv looked at him.
“I am paying very close attention.”
“Not to your work.”
“Also true.”
Emma turned bright red.
G’aikui frowned.
“Are you hot?”
Ph’etuv made a strangled noise.
Emma glared at her.
“No.”
“You changed color.”
“I’m fine.”
He accepted that immediately.
Of course he did.
There was nothing else.
No scent.
No shift in pheromones.
No involuntary biological announcement telling him that Emma Johnston was paying rather more attention to him than she was to anyone else on the crew.
Emma smelled like Emma.
Human.
Soap, sweat, dust, whatever shampoo she had used that morning.
Nothing in G’aikui’s body translated any of it into the signal his species had evolved to recognize.
So Emma smiled at him.
And looked for him when she came back from a house.
And always somehow needed him beside her to check the manifest.
And laughed at nearly everything he said.
And G’aikui concluded that Emma was exceptionally friendly.
His sisters did not have that excuse.
At House Six, T’waur climbed onto the trailer and deliberately picked up the smallest box available.
“G’aikui.”
“What?”
“This one is too heavy.”
He stared at her.
It was a box of pillowcases.
“T’waur.”
“I am struggling.”
“You are not.”
Ph’etuv picked up a much larger box.
“My brother is very strong.”
Emma closed her eyes.
G’aikui took the pillowcases from T’waur.
“You carried a larger box ten minutes ago.”
“I am tired now.”
“You are lying.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Ph’etuv walked past Emma.
“Perhaps someone likes watching you carry things.”
Emma nearly dropped the box in her hands.
G’aikui looked between them.
“Who?”
T’waur folded herself over the trailer rail laughing.
Emma pointed at Ph’etuv.
“I hate you.”
Ph’etuv smiled pleasantly.
“That seems unlikely. We have only known each other a few hours.”
G’aikui looked genuinely confused.
Emma grabbed another package.
“House Six. Master bedroom.”
She walked away.
G’aikui watched her go.
Then looked at his sisters.
“What was that?”
Ph’etuv stared at him.
T’waur stared at him.
G’aikui waited.
Ph’etuv finally said something in V’ren.
T’waur answered her.
G’aikui’s expression hardened.
“Do not discuss me as though I am not standing here.”
Ph’etuv switched back to English.
“We are discussing whether human males are this stupid.”
“I am not stupid.”
“No.”
T’waur wiped her eyes.
“That is what makes this interesting.”
G’aikui looked toward the house where Emma had disappeared.
Then back at them.
“What am I missing?”
Ph’etuv opened her mouth.
T’waur grabbed her arm.
“No.”
Ph’etuv looked down at her.
T’waur shook her head.
Very slowly, Ph’etuv smiled.
“Oh.”
G’aikui narrowed his eyes.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You are both terrible.”
“Yes.”
Emma came back through the door.
“Eight left.”
G’aikui immediately turned toward her.
“Which room?”
Ph’etuv leaned close to T’waur.
“This could take weeks.”
T’waur whispered back.
“She is sixteen soon.”
Ph’etuv’s smile widened.
“Plenty of time.”
Emma looked over.
“What are you two whispering about?”
“English.”
“No, you weren’t.”
“Your alphabet.”
G’aikui pointed at the next package.
“Finally, something important.”
Emma read it.
“LR THROW BLKT.”
G’aikui closed his eyes.
“Your people are barbarians.”
“Living room throw blanket.”
“I knew what it meant.”
Emma grinned at him.
“See? You’re learning.”
That smile again.
Ph’etuv nudged T’waur.
T’waur nudged her back.
G’aikui picked up the blanket.
“What?”
“Nothing,” both sisters said.
They finished the block shortly before lunch.
Twelve houses.
One hundred ninety-two boxes.
Every package in the correct room.
Emma scanned the last carton.
The block manifest went green.
COMPLETE.
G’aikui checked the total anyway.
“One hundred ninety-two.”
Emma leaned over to look at his screen.
“I told you.”
“I verify.”
“You really are going to get along with Marmaduke.”
“So you keep saying.”
They drove back toward staging with the empty trailer rattling behind them.
As they passed the appliance lane, G’aikui pointed.
“Stoves.”
Emma looked at the row of ranges.
“Ranges.”
“Stoves.”
“Ranges.”
“Stoves.”
Emma smiled at him.
“Want to argue about it over lunch?”
G’aikui shrugged.
“Yes.”
Behind them, Ph’etuv slowly turned toward T’waur.
T’waur covered her mouth.
G’aikui looked back.
“What now?”
Ph’etuv shook her head.
“Nothing.”
They reached the trailer yard.
A worker waved Emma toward the next loaded trailer.
Another block.
Another twelve houses.
Another one hundred ninety-two boxes.
Emma backed neatly into position.
G’aikui got out to handle the hitch.
Ph’etuv leaned between the seats.
Very quietly, she said, “You know he has absolutely no idea.”
Emma watched G’aikui through the mirror.
“I noticed.”
T’waur leaned forward beside her sister.
“He is waiting for something you cannot do.”
Emma looked at her.
“What?”
Ph’etuv tapped the side of her nose.
Then nodded toward her brother.
“He would normally know.”
Emma followed her gaze.
G’aikui was checking the trailer connection.
Of course he was checking it twice.
Emma looked back at the sisters.
Ph’etuv was smiling.
T’waur was smiling much more dangerously.
Emma groaned.
“Oh, God.”
T’waur brightened.
“Now you understand.”
G’aikui climbed back into the passenger seat.
“Understand what?”
Emma put the side-by-side in gear.
“Nothing.”
Both sisters burst out laughing.
G’aikui looked from one girl to the next.
“I dislike this crew.”
“No, you don’t,” Emma said.
He considered that.
“No.”
She pulled toward the next block.
Behind them, Ph’etuv whispered something to T’waur in V’ren.
Emma could not understand a syllable.
She did not need to.
Whatever it was, she was going to pay for it all afternoon.
