Humans are Weird - Conservation  Second Cousin paused in the recycling room uncertain at first what had caught her attention. Her cone of focus had been on line of tasks the resident Third Sister had assigned her. However they were a string of simple fetch quests more intended to imprint the map of the base on her than to serve any purpose in of themselves so Second Cousin had little compunction about delaying the business and angling her cone of focus elsewhere. To be perfectly firm Second Cousin was beginning to doubt that this so called ‘chirality specific rotational force application tool’ even existed. The way the base humans had giggled when Second Cousin had assigned that particular search task had suggested something odd in the request. So it was with little hesitation that Second Cousin paused to trace the odd line that was disturbing here.
“The lead line recycling,” she clicked softly to herself as the issue came into focus.
When she had last entered the room she had tossed several grams worth of vine lead line ends into the appropriate recycling bin to be composted later. However now all of them were gone and the rest of the fibers in the bin had been disturbed, suggesting a rough search had been made to get them all out.
“What could anyone use such short scraps of lead line for?” Second Cousin wondered out-loud.
However that discovery satisfied her curiosity and stretching her antenna to focus herself she stepped out. Perhaps the chirality specific rotational force application tool had been lost in one of the bins for damaged rotational application parts.
Some hours of futile search later Second Cousin pulled off the now uncomfortably moist safety gloves and left the bins to the dust and dimness of the recycling room. She headed back to the open office where the Third Sister was fulfilling her duties of First Mechanical Repair Technician.
“I have not yet been able to locate the chirality specific rotational force application tool,” Second Cousin informed her.
“That is fine,” Third Sister informed her with a comfortingly gentle motion of her antenna. “It will be a particularly difficult task and I expected its persuit to take some time. You should take a rest break.”
Second Cousin couldn’t help but think that this Third Sister had not implied that she thought the task could be completed, but decided that exposure to humans was making her paranoid and dismissed the thought.
“Thank you,” Second Cousin said, moving towards the open recreation area that shared the space.
It always made her uncomfortable but the humans seemed to prefer the open floor-plan of the office space. The human Second Mechanical Repair Technician was sprawled at odd angles over a chair and desk just to the edge of the recreation space and seemed quite content. Second Cousin selected a sucuclant looking fruit from the potted shrub and was chewing on it when a shaggy sphere caught her attention on the human’s desk.
“So it was you who took the lead line fragments!” she exclaimed.
The human shot her a look that seemed mildly confrontational at the same time as an abrupt curl of Third Sister’s antenna warned her to not peruse the subject.
“Yeah,” the human said in a rather defensive tone. “’Cycle bin scraps are free for the taking. What of it?”
“They are,” she agreed, then turned her focus back on the fruit.
The human dropped his wide, fleshy hand over the sphere and slid it into a drawer, closing the drawer on it without looking at either the sphere of lead line scraps or at Second Cousin. When the fruit was consumed she stood, stretched, and walked over to Third Sister who gestured for her to follow her out of the office. Once they were out in the surrounding forest Second Cousin gestured back at Second Mechanical Repair Technician.
“Am I tracing up the wrong vine or was that human defensive about his use of the scrap lead line?” she asked.
“You are quite nearly on the right vine,” Third Sister said with a somewhat exasperated shake of her frill. “The human was defensive, but the reason was that he was not using the lead line.”
“Why did he take the lead line scraps out of the recycling bin if he doesn’t intend to use it?” Second Cousin demanded.
“Oh, he fully intends to use it,” Third Sister said. “The same way that Fifth Mechanical Repair Technician fully intends to use the scraps of paper she collects, and the human who comes over from the nearest farm intends to use the excess seed husks for an ornamentation to his garden as soon as he figures out the plan.”
Second Cousin angled her head and flicked her antenna in confusion but Third Sister didn’t go on.
“I understand that you are implying that this is a standard behavior in humans,” Second Cousin said, “but I am uncertain what single behavior you are describing.”
“I have seen no formal documentation,” Third Sister said, “but I believe it to be a individual manifestation of a general distaste for waste.”
“That creates a faint line,” Second Cousin agreed, “but it is hardly a materiel waste to compost biodegradable items such as you have described, and it would be a waste of space to hoard them uncomposted.”
“That is, I believe, the root of the humans’ discomfort on the subject,” Third Sister said. “They know that their behavior borders on the irrational and do not like to discuss it. Strings, seed pod husks, half used paper, every human seems to have one specific item they hate to see not used for a purpose worthy of its creation, and rather than seeing them destroyed at once they store them privately in the hopes that they will find a specific use. I don’t really understand it, but in the name of base harmony I ignore it, and I ask you to do the same.”
Second Cousin gave a slow click of agreement as they walked along. It seemed a small concession to inter-species relations after all.
“Now,” Third Sister said, walking more briskly. “Please resume looking for the chirality specific rotational force application tool. The humans have started taking bets on when you will be finished with the task.”
Second Cousin couldn’t help noticing the odd phrasing as she resumed her search.  
Author Betty Adams Books
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