Page 9 of My Alien Angel
I turn on the TV, watching him warily in case it startles him but he just grins. Survivor is on and Omni seems captivated. “You can change the channel or pick something else from one of the other streaming services. I have most of them.” Damn straight I have most of the streaming services, because each of my favorite shows is streamed on a different platform. It’s annoying. Pulling up the Netflix menu, I hand the remote to Omni. “Here, you can pick what to watch. There’s a description and—” I pause abruptly as I realize he didn’t want to use the translator on my phone because he couldn’t read the text. At the time, I thought that was because he was used to a different alphabet, but now I realize the problem might lie elsewhere. “You can’t read, can you?”
My eyes widen when it hits me how rude that question was, especially to someone on the spectrum. “I’m sorry,” I quickly apologize. “I didn’t mean to insult you, I just—”
“I’m sorry, sorry, sorry,” Omni repeats joyfully. “Yes. I’m sorry. I’m sorry car wings filth. I’m sorry shower, uh.” At a loss for words, he points down to the wet floor.
I blink in surprise. Is he apologizing for making my car dirty? And for wetting my floor? And, most importantly, did he only use the word “sorry” only after I said it? Have I not said sorry in front of him before? Scouring my memory, I realize I haven’t, aside from the moment he woke up and freaked out over my costume, and he probably wasn’t paying attention back then. Which means, he’s definitely learning English words from me. While understanding me. I’ve never heard of anything like thishappening but I’ll have to ponder over it later. I need to acquire the puppies for tomorrow, and I can’t do that if the owners are asleep.
“Don’t worry about the car or the floor. It’s all fine. Just give me half an hour, and I’ll be right back with you. Is this show okay?” I ask, putting Survivor back on.
“Yes, okay,” Omni replies, grinning at the contestant who just threw up after eating a worm. Yeah, vomiting people are the peak of TV entertainment. “TV okay.”
I know it’s terrible of me, but I can’t help but laugh. “Alright, Tarzan. I’ll be right back.”
Chapter 8
Omni
Humanentertainmentshowsaresurprisingly funny and, unsurprisingly, quite similar to what’s streamed over GalNet. Maybe a little less extreme. I mean, there aren’t any predators trying to eat the contestants stranded on the island. Nor are there any marauders trying to murder them in their sleep, and they’re even given highly nutritional meals! Now, that wouldn’t happen in the Deathrun or the Arena Protocol. In Deathrun, the contestants rarely survive long enough to get hungry, and in Arena Protocol, they only eat what they can catch for themselves, which usually results in them eating each other.No one on this quaint tropical island seems to have been gnawed on, so it’s safe to assume human reality shows aren’t as violent as the galactic ones. Or perhaps it’s still early in the series.
The video has helped build my vocabulary, though I admit, in a rather limited area. So far, I’ve learned several different expletives, along with words like disgusting and gross. Not exactly something I’d like to use in conversation with Fin. However, if I could spend a few days watching various programs on this TV, as Fin called it, I’m confident I’d learn enough words to accurately communicate who I am and what I’m looking for. The question is whether Fin will simply let me stay in her domicile when there’s nothing I can contribute to the living expenses.
I’m also going to need food soon. The dried meat Fin gave me in the vehicle was good, but my healing requires a much denser calorie intake. Thanks to the TV, I now have a few ways to ask for sustenance, though I’m hesitant to do so. It will cost money, creating a debt I can never repay. Once I leave Earth, there’s no way for me to return or even communicate with anyone here, let alone transfer funds. Not to mention, galactic units would be useless here. Maybe some gems or rare metals would be more appropriate as payment, but I still would have no way of ensuring they’d get to Fin. I’m already in her debt. She could have left me in the desert. Winds, sheshouldhave left me in the desert. I don’t even have the words yet to tell her how grateful I am for her help.
After making sure the water I dripped all over the floor has been taken care of, I settle down on the couch. I very much prefer the stand-in air dryer I have in my cabin on the Supernova, since toweling my wings off is next to impossible, but humans obviously have no need to design their bathrooms with winged beings in mind. Nor their couches. It takes me a while to find a comfortable position where my wings aren’tsquished against the backrest. If it weren’t for the broken bone, it wouldn’t have been so difficult, but while the bone has already begun to heal, it still brings tears into my eyes every time I have to move the wing or it presses against something.
I wonder what Fin is doing but, since I’m only a guest here, it’s best if I don’t interrupt her. My presence is disrupting her life enough as it is. While waiting for her to return, I try to absorb as many words into my vocabulary as possible. It helps that my brain already understands them. My mouth just needs to practice how to pronounce each syllable. It’s majorly confusing, but I didn’t become an elite soldier by slacking off.
By the time Fin returns, I’ve already assimilated a few dozen words, though I doubt “beach” or “sticks” will prove very useful in my current situation. “Hello, Fin,” I greet her the moment she emerges from her bedroom, eager to practice and, more importantly, to finally thank her. “Thank you help I.” Damn, that’s probably not correct but, hopefully, it gets the meaning across. Pronouns are difficult and I haven’t even begun remembering the prepositions. Nouns, verbs and basic phrases like please and thank you are the most important now.
“Oh. I…” Fin blushes, her mouth open but no more sounds come out. “It’s no problem. Anyone would have done the same. Have you…?” Frowning, she looks between me and the TV. “Have you been learning new words from the television?”
“Yes. Learning new words from the television,” I repeat dutifully. Winds, she must think I’m an idiot. It’s unfortunate she sees me as a simpleton, but it’s better than her knowing what I really am before I get a chance to properly explain everything to her. Or before I can discover a way to find Garresh’s ship and get back to it. I probably shouldn’t be telling Fin who and what I am, anyway. If the UGC discovers she knows something, they might see it as a breach of the Non-Interference Directive and swoopdown to wipe her memories. She doesn’t deserve to have her mind messed with just because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut.
Shaking her head, Fin pulls out her handheld electronic device. It’s similar to our datapads and I’m sure that if I could read the words, I’d have no trouble operating it.
“You’re really weird, you know that?” Fin murmurs without looking at me. “Okay, I’ll order some food. Is pizza okay? Are you allergic to anything?”
To zangri berries, but I doubt they have those here. It’s quite possible I am allergic to some Earth foods, but there’s no way for me to tell. I’ll just have to risk it. “No allergic. Pizza okay.” I have no clue what it is, but at this point, I’ll eat anything.
“Alright.” She taps a few times on her device, then sets it aside. “I’ll put your clothes in the washing machine. Unless they’re hand-wash only?” Picking my jumpsuit from the floor, she studies it. “There’s no tag or anything, but it seems sturdy enough to survive the washing machine. It’s pretty dirty, I doubt the cold program will wash it properly but it might shrink if I put it on a warmer temperature. What do you think?”
“Uh.” I have a vague idea of what she’s talking about but honestly, have no idea about the washing temperatures. On the ship, we just toss the dirty laundry down a chute and it magically returns clean a few hours later. Come to think of it, I’ve never really considered how it gets cleaned. I just assume there are droids taking care of it.
Snorting, Fin shoves my jumpsuit into a large box with a circular opening. “Right. Asking a guy for laundry advice. Should have known that was pointless. Alright, let’s see how it survives on warm. Worst comes to worst, I’ll pick up some more clothes for you tomorrow. I might have to do that, anyway.”
“Thank you,” I say, angry with myself for not having better words to properly express my gratitude. “Many thank you, Fin.”
She smiles, her expression brightening so much I have no choice but to smile back. “You’re sweet. Weird, but sweet. Okay, pizza should be here in about fifteen minutes. In the meantime, I was wondering…” Hesitating, she examines me as if trying to gauge my reaction to whatever she’s about to say. “If I say anything insulting please, stop me, but I want to ask you about your reading problem. Not that it’s a problem that you can’t read or anything, I just—”
“Is problem,” I interrupt her. “Many problem.”
“Has no one ever tried to teach you how to read? I’m not an expert on special education, but I was under the impression that most people on the spectrum can learn it.”
Yes, she definitely thinks there’s something wrong with me. Not that I can blame her. I do currently talk like a caveman. “No one teach I,” I say, somewhat hedging around the truth. I’m fluent in both the Quintran native tongue and in the galactically accepted Omnispeak—no affiliation with my name, just a funny coincidence—but no one has ever taught me to read Earth languages. “Fin teach?”
“I don’t have the skills and I have to go to work tomorrow, but I might have found something that could help. It’s for kids, though.”
“Yes. No problem. Give I, please?”
