Episode 76
Travelling Light E076S02 Transcript
[Title music: rhythmic electronic folk.]
H.R. Owen
Travelling Light: Episode Seventy Six.
[The music fades out.]
The Traveller
Entry EN85128-1. Cultural practices around companion animals in the Gañara District of Esti.
Keywords: domestic animals; Esti; flora and fauna; Gañara District; interview; snucks; theology and philosophy.
Notes:
I mentioned the planet Esti in passing when I wrote for this archive concerning the Tilfarian sport of shako – see Entry EN85104-2. Shako was invented here, and I had hoped I might be able to see it played in its original geography.
Unfortunately, we are on quite the wrong part of the planet, in the Gañara District to the south instead of the northern Inura District. I mentioned the matter while we were unloading our cargo, and immediately had Oyan's attention.
“If you’re stuck for something to do, you can come along with me!”
Resimus, checking supplies on their document reader, made a noise between a tut and a grimace. Oyan glared at them.
“Don't listen to them. It's fun!”
“It's weird,” Resimus put in.
“It’s not weird!”
“Those things…”
“No, they're cute!”
Masha stepped up then, lifting the crate Oyan and I were supposed to be unloading. “You're missing the point. They're cute because they're weird.”
“What are 'they'?” I finally managed to ask as Resimus and Oyan drew breath. Oyan got in first.
“No, don’t spoil it! We'll go after we're done here. You're going to love it!”
Let it never be said I let ignorance get between myself and a new experience. As soon as we finished unloading, I let Oyan lead the way to our destination.
It turned out to be an animal sanctuary – not, Oyan was at pains to clarify, a zoo. The animals were at the sanctuary for medical treatment, or for safe and comfortable housing before being moved on to a more permanent home.
“They have all sorts,” Oyan enthused as we made the suggested donation that replaced a fixed entry fee. “Laru and bos and ackwizotch – they even had a kosa the last time I was here! But my favourites are the snucks.”
“The… snucks?” I echoed, and watched [laughing] as a visible wave of excitement washed over Oyan's entire body.
“Snucks!” they said, bouncing on the balls of their feet and flapping their hands with sheer unbridled enthusiasm! I would have liked more information but they were off, not so much leading me out as running to the door heedless of whether I was with them or not. It was very sweet.
“How often do you come here?” I asked once I had caught back up with them.
Oyan answered without looking up from the enclosure they were peering into, fairly vibrating with happiness. “This is my third visit. Cap only comes to Tilfar once every year or two. But I'll keep coming as long as he keeps bringing me!”
I had the sudden certainty that Scarry would keep bringing them as long as they wanted to come. It is the sort of thing he will do for his crew. And I had a wonderful afternoon letting Oyan tell me everything they knew.
“That’s a biraller, it has a prehensile tongue! This one's called Morg's danarel, but its not actually a member of the danarel family – it’s more closely related to the common piff! And that’s the pichurin, the smallest carnivore on the planet!"
A sanctuary employee dressed in a medical uniform crossed our path on the way round. At that point, Oyan was deep in conversation another guest who had idly wondered about the sleeping habits of the pichurin within earshot.
“You came with the right person,” the employee said as we watched Oyan's new friend ask all the right questions.
“I had no idea they were so passionate about animals. Then again, we are crew-members on a merchant vessel; it is not as if we can keep any pets ourselves.”
The employee's face fell and she made a gesture I did not know but which reminded me of an averting motion Óli sometimes makes to ward off bad luck.
“Oh… I'll pray for you circumstances,” she said, with real depth of feeling.
“I appreciate your kindness. But I think our cultures may have different attitudes on this topic. Where I come from, not having pets is not considered a tragedy.”
Orama, as her name-tag read, wrinkled her face in disappointment or disgust.
“Having none of your own, maybe,” she said, in a tone that suggested she was being extremely open-minded even to allow this much. “But no animals at all?”
“It is not a very big ship. That is not true – it is an enormous ship. But the crew quarters are quite confined. Are animals very important to people here?”
Orama looked grave. “It’s not about importance. It is simply… [sighs] the done thing. How lonely you must be, without a companion!”
There was no way I was letting Orama leave without hearing more. Unless she wanted to. Obviously. I invited her to walk with me, since Oyan was lost in conversation with their new friend.
“Just to the end of the walk,” she said firmly, “and then I really must go and give our biraller his medicine.”
Orama was a veterinarian who split her time between a private practice and a far less lucrative job at the sanctuary. As we walked, I invited her to tell me more about her culture's attitudes to pet ownership.
“Well, there's a difference right off. We say 'companion animal', not 'pet'. A pet is something you pick up and play with as you wish and ignore when you don't. It’s almost the same as our word for a-a children’s toy.
“Our language around companion animals mostly comes from the same roots as our words about relationships between people. If you lived with other people and shared your resources and so on, we would call that a baña.
“One of our words for a companion animal – a sort of term of endearment, I suppose – is ñana. Same root. They're a part of the household.”
“Back home, people often call themselves their pets' parents,” I offered.
[laughs] “Oh, how funny! Not quite the thing here, though. Parenthood can be… tricky. I don't think people are always very good at being friends with their children.”
“You think people can be friends with their pets? Sorry – their companion animals.”
“Well this is it. No, I don't think you can be friends with a pet. Because if they're your pet, you're not meeting them as… Oh, not an equal, I suppose. A sort of equal in dignity if not in actual status.
“In the order of spirits, an animal soul is a lower tier than a person. But, still-”
“Wait, sorry,” I butted in. “The order of spirits?”
Orama blinked at me. “How far away are you from?” I told her. [laughing] “Oh by the mercies! Yes, alright. I suppose you might not have heard of it!
“It's a-a religious concept, a sort of hierarchy of types of soul. Some people take it more literally than others. In my faith, it's mostly taken as a metaphor, but if you do get reincarnated as a grubble fish, it was probably your own fault.”
“And are companion species considered a higher order than others? Cattle, for example?”
“Well, there aren't really set species for companionship. Theoretically, any animal could become part of your household. We keep mammals and birds around here, mostly, but in Gañara City, insects are the default.
“It isn’t really polite to say out loud that our animals are higher in the order than theirs, just because we don’t keep insects much. Though I admit, I do think that’s how most people think of it. [laughs]
“And way up in the Inura District, they don’t think animals have souls at all. How beastly, can you imagine! They think animals are dirty and smelly and that we're mad for bringing them into our houses. My granny was from up that way, she never got used to it.
“Then again, over in Obedec District people really do take it too far. If an animal dies over there, they don't just get the rites read over them. They have a full funeral, with mourners and a gravestone and a death name and everything!”
I was about to suggest that perhaps people in Obedec District consider Orama’s practices as incomprehensible as she finds those of the Inura District, when we reached the final curve of the path through through the sanctuary.
“Well, that's me. I have to go and see to Ergon. The biraller,” Orama clarified.
“One last question. What is a snuck?”
A wicked gleam came into her expression. [laughing] “Oh! Well you're about to find out!”
On that ominous note, I made my way into the yard at the end of the path, assuming that Oyan had rushed on ahead of me. My assumption proved correct. There they were, standing in the middle of a flock of what could only be snucks.
They were fat, hairless, featherless creatures with round, doughy bodies that tapered into long necks holding up small, pointed heads. They were the size of footstools, their bodies fading from white to deep pink towards the rear.
Oyan called out over their heads. “There you are! Come and meet the snucks! Aren't they beautiful?!”
I noticed some other guests showing amusement at this declaration. I suspect snucks are seen with more humour than admiration by the general populace.
They would have been fine if they had had- Well, I nearly wrote, “If they had had some clothes on”! [laughs] But there was an undeniable sense of nakedness about them. Still, I could not resist Oyan's enthusiasm.
“Pick one up!” they urged as I got closer. “They like it!”
To demonstrate, they squatted down and scooped up a snuck. The creature's body was as big as Oyan’s torso, and their little arms hugged it close peppering its long, fleshy neck with kisses.
I picked one up. It was like holding a very fat, very warm, very naked toddler. It nuzzled into me, tickling my ear with a flickering forked tongue.
“Cap says we can't have one on the ship,” Oyan said, looking beatific with their own snuck snuggling against them. “He says they're revolting!”
My snuck, apparently hearing itself being discussed, looked up at me with placid, animal contentment. And, while I do not think I could mount much of an argument against Scarry’s point, I admit – I did feel quite fond for the strange little thing.
[The sound of the data stick whirring fades in, cutting out when the data stick is removed with a click.]
The Traveller
28th Enu 851
To the community at Emerraine, who carry the Light.
There are so many moments on this journey where I have wished some of you, my dear friends, could be with me.
Admittedly, I mostly have those thoughts when I am longing for either your comfort or your counsel. But today, sitting on the veranda of a tea shop in the little town of Ñagan, I wished you were here for your own sake.
I wish you could sit beside me and breathe the green, tree-scented air. I wish your eyes could follow the sweep of the mountains down into the distant valley below, where the river Ña flashes and sparkles in the sunlight. I wish you could feel the warmth of the sun on the back of your neck, and-
[laughs] And catch sight, as I just did, of a hawk wheeling above, black against the faded blue of an empty sky.
It is hard to believe we are in the same system as Albothi Station. Harder still to believe the system government insist on visitors stopping at Albothi before anywhere else. Why in the Light would you introduce people to your home with that, when you could offer them this?
Then again, the more I hear about them, the less I feel I understand anything about the system government of Tilfar. Apart from anything else, it remains completely bizarre to me that there should be any such organisation.
The other systems I have been to organise themselves not dissimilarly to our own governmental structures back home in the Bychan system, with interplanetary committees collaborating on specific issues.
In Tilfar, these committees still exist but they are appointed by the so-called 'great families' – the Houses Berna, Bídur, Glímtir, and Ranvhitir.
The heads of each house bear a different title – their putative “jobs”. But as Óli explained, these are jobs in polite fiction only. There are no qualifications save the happenstance of being born into House Berna, Bídur, Glímtir, or Ranvhitir.
Well. That leads me to a happier note. I have received a letter from Óli. I came to this tea shop to read it. I wanted to give it the time and attention it deserved. Besides, things on the ship have been a bit, uh… I will get to that in a moment.
You will be glad to hear Óli is doing very well. At least, I hope you will be glad to hear it. I hope you are as invested in their happiness as you might be in mine, seeing as mine is so tied to theirs.
The body of their letter was taken up with news and gossip. Ranaí has been teaching them how to operate his personal transport. They said they- [laughs] They said they will pick me up from the shuttle terminal whenever I return.
And they have their results back from their examinations. They passed everything, with distinctions in mathematics and galactic history! Their pride was palpable as they told me about scoring top marks on their essay on the stepped gardens of Pilatir despite never having heard of them before.
It is incredible to me they did not learn about them as a child. I thought there was nowhere in the galaxy that did not teach this as a part of general education, alongside one's times tables. Then again, I do not think Óli was quite up on their times tables before this either.
I do not mean that to be patronising. Truthfully, I think it is wonderful they are learning this all now, with an adult capacity to study and to appreciate their new knowledge. And I am so proud of their hard work, their determination to fill every gap in their education as soon as they are made aware of it.
And they gave their answer to the question of whether or not they wished me to meet with their parents. I had expected the matter to take up most of the letter. It is a very emotional subject for them, I know, and I thought… I hoped… they would share that process with me, at least a little.
Instead, they mentioned it only at the very end. They thanked me for giving them time to think and said they had talked it over with their friends and decided I should do as I wished. That is all. “You may do as you wish.”
[sighs] It cannot be that they do not care. I know they care. They told me very explicitly that they care. Perhaps they do not feel the meeting will make any difference – to them or to me? Or to their parents. Or perhaps, uh…
I cannot help but think of what they said during our call on the Kalosfa. That they know I will not put their feelings first. But how can I, if they do not tell me them?
[sighs] Speaking of which, I would not say it to either of their faces, but this is something Scarry and Óli have in common; a total disinclination to say anything about their own feelings where a person might be able to hear or, perish the thought, help.
Scarry is upset. I noticed it in the days after our visit to Fjirding. We are still spending time together. He has not, thank the Light, retreated into icy formality as he did after the spacewalk and the pirate attack. But he has been… distant.
Things came to a head this morning. We were having breakfast in his cabin – a rare treat for days when there is no pressing work to be done. I was telling him my plans for the day and mentioned that I was hoping to have a letter from Óli.
He regarded me, black eyes unblinking over his morning cup of tea. He looked so long, I began to worry I had something on my face.
“What? What are you looking at?”
“I wish I knew.”
[scoffing] “Is that you being enigmatic? What do you mean?”
Scarry set his mug down, getting to his feet and briskly clearing away the breakfast things. “Nothing. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“No, come on. You have been in a snit all week. What is the matter?”
“I have not been in a snit,” he said, in infuriatingly even tones.
“We have barely had a proper conversation since Fjirding.”
He visibly bristled. “Oh? Have I been depriving you of the opportunity to make snide comments about my business practices? Or perhaps I have not shown enough enthusiasm for discussing Ranvhitir House and its wayward scion.”
I have not been making snide comments. And, yes, I have been talking to people – local people as we meet them – about the system government. And of course Óli has been on my mind but I do not think I was making as much of it as all that.
“Is it the meeting?” I tried. “Are you anxious because you broke the contract?”
Scarry took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He was dressing now, fastening the buttons of his shirt with deliberate care. “I am not anxious about doing my job. The job, by the way, which I have been doing since you were a child.”
“The job you think I have been making snide comments about?”
Anger flashed over his face, but he smothered it. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
“Then how are we supposed to-”
His eyes bored into mine. “I do not want to talk about this with you.”
He finished getting dressed and gathered up the dishes. I made one last attempt.
“I do not have to come to the meeting if you do not want me to.”
“Do what you like.”
And he left. So that is the answer on all sides, I suppose. I may do as I like. I wish someone would tell me what they would like for a change. [sighs]
The meeting with Óli’s parents is in a few days. Naturally I am curious about them. And there are some things I would very much like to say to them – not on Óli’s behalf but for my own sake.
But I cannot ignore Óli’s obvious ambivalence about the matter. They have given me their permission but it was hardly a ringing endorsement.
At least my attending will not interfere with Scarry’s business concerns, I can be sure of that. He would simply not allow me to come if there were any doubt. And as for his feelings on the matter… I do not know them! And he will not tell me.
I will pray, and try to discern the best path forwards. Please, keep-
Oh. I do not think I have ever asked you to pray for Scarry before. I suppose he always gives the impression he can do very well without such consideration. Well. I am asking it now. Please, keep him and Óli in your prayers. I love you all.
[Title music: rhythmic instrumental folk. It plays throughout the closing credits.]
H.R. Owen
Travelling Light was created by H.R. Owen and Matt McDyre, and is a Monstrous Productions podcast. This episode was written and performed by H.R. Owen.
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[Fade to silence.]
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