The human got a job at a rather busy space station as an IT person and as a structural engineer. They did a lot of work with computers and with keeping up maintenance on this place. But when they signed the contract, they had an unusual clause, one that, it was discovered, they always asked for no matter what place they worked. Their quarters must be at least twice to three times the size of normal crew quarters. This was not too big a problem, but curiosity got the better one of one of the haven-worlders on staff who came to visit. Inside it was like they stepped back in time. A large loom in one area with a half-finished rug on it, a floor harp sitting by a very unusual, if small, canopy bed, wooden bowls and cups, a fake fire burning in an artificial fireplace, and there was the human, sitting by illumination of a fake candle, just bright enough to read by, writing a letter using an old-fashioned dip-quill and ink bottle. -- DaniAndShali
Humans are strange. They have their odd little ways about things in general and what particulars they have in peculiarity. Other cogniscents would have things the other way around, but that's Humans for you.
One such example was Human Bee. They worked mostly as a technician with assorted computers and some structural engineering when necessary, but their particular peculiarity was a set of personal quarters twice the size of the standard residence for a singular Human. Speculation, naturally, abounded. Humans had concealed family and friends in the fear that their discovery would lead to retribution, or through some desire to help their pack-mates escape a terrible existence.
A Human protecting a fellow Human and pack-mate from even imagined retribution would not reveal the presence of such until they were close to death, and despite repeated assurances, would continue such practices for as long as they could. The most famous example was the Trent Twins' Two-For-One Sale, which continued for the better portion of a decade before their discovery as two beings instead of one. Therefore, the crew of Distant Star Station suspected that Human Bee might be concealing a pack-mate in their quarters. The next problem was how to broach the subject.
They offered to help with the renovations, and the existence of a speculated secondary Human evaporated as they helped Human Bee tear out metallic walls and re-wire the entire space before fitting in an entirely new structure within the available space. There was room for more rooms than the standard one-cogniscent habitation, and Human Bee brought in all forms of antique-style furnishings with which to fill it.
There was no other Human. This was clearly evident. Which lead to the next question - what in the name of the Powers That Be was the Human doing with all that extra private space?
Companion Rhykk gained something of an answer when they came to visit Human Bee in their downtime. Their door, the Human had claimed, was hardly ever locked. This was a truth and a gift as trust from a Human towards non-Humans was still precious and rare.
The entire space was decked out in printed wood. Apparently indistinguishable from the real deal, so Human Bee said. Wooden walls, wooden furniture, even wooden flooring that had been sealed with varnish and caulk. What was not wood or wooden veneer was coated or cushioned in handicrafts. Pillows, quilts, crochetted blankets or rugs. It was all... old school, as Human Bee was wont to say. There was a simulated fire standing in the place of a heating unit, and artificial candles or kerosene lanterns lit the entire space.
It was like stepping into another world.
"I'm upstairs, Rhykk," called Human Bee. "Just working on some thoughts."
The stairs were steep, made for Humans aboard their ancient wooden sailing vessels. A style that dated back to their pre-industrial era. Rhykk had to clamber up each riser, clinging to a railing all the way up. There was a study, filled with old books in the process of being 'loved to death' - another peculiarly Human phrase. In the study, was a writing desk, where Human Bee was working on something with a feather. No. A quill.
"Just a sec, if I lose this thread, I'll never catch it again," they said. Scritch, scritch, dip scratch scritchetty scratch... "There." Human Bee wiped the quill on a rag and blotted their work. "What's happening, Birdie?"
"We had been wondering what you were doing with all this space," Rhykk confessed, letting the 'Birdie' slide for now. "Now I am wondering why you are using this space like this."
Human Bee laughed. "History's a part of technology. Dude, if I had a Zac[1] for every time someone asked me that question, I could buy a planet. Nah. See. All across known space, there's different levels of tech for everything. Some people get into space before they invent the wheel. Some never get literacy before they meet other civilisations. So... for everything I have to repair out here, I have to have at least a passing knowledge of what's going on up in there. Those who do not learn from the lessons of history don't get paid for a shitty patch job and all that."
Rhykk said, "I am certain that is not the common form of the phrase..."
"It's my perfectly viable adaptation," defended Bee. "In the process of learning about disparate historical technologies, I gained an appreciation for Nostalgia Tech. The stuff most people throw out the airlock the second they discover anything better. It's... relaxing. After a hard day of unriddling matter printers, declogging mystery pipes and otherwise thinking around someone else's corners, it does me good to come home and work on things that aren't complicated."
Rhykk looked askance at a tatting project left by one of Bee's false firesides. "Not complicated," ze said.
"Relatively speaking," said Bee.
[1] The Five-Minute coin is called a 'Zac' by many Humans. Nobody alive knows why. The Twenty-Minute coin is called a 'Five-minute Job' or a 'Job' for short. The Ten-Minute coin, between the two, is known as 'Bob' for similarly complicated reasons. Further proof that Humans are truly bizarre.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / SSilver]
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