Just to remind them of their
place in keeping up the Savannah Platter, the Zebrites kept the color scheme in the
Receiving Verandah geometric and black and white. Cebble had always lived just off the Platter, not
far from this grand reception room, a gallop of a maybe twenty minutes. From
this window, she could see arrival nodes winking and flashing, obscuring the savannah that stretched all the way to the edge of the sea, where the humans
waited in a glass compound. Glass and whatever they’d brought with them.
Cebble had seen that place in
person once, learned how to say “city” from one of them, who’d then explained
that people like her were considered “livestock” on the human planet.
Apparently, this was a “magical” world because people like Cebble could speak.
At least, that human had considered the translation orb as passing for speech. Not
all of them did; making even a short visit uncomfortable. As alien as the
Platter could be, there were few things as alien as that tower ssittee.
Humans told themselves they discovered an empty world and established a great
city. They flung their stories into the sky and waited. Even if they knew the
Zebrites read those messages before they left, they boasted.
Recently, the boasts had taken
on a manic fervor. They had been given a mission from sky.
Cebble glanced up. They’d
punctured that same sky in a rude display of fire and speed, ignoring the
well-used node grid that flashed like a fountain of persons and trade. The sky
contained mysteries, even after the humans had come through it, dragging their
stories of a tissue of cerulean creatures whispering among the clouds and
sunlight. She wondered what their world had been like after they’d broken their
own sky. She stomped a hoof and shook her mane. There was a blue flash, nearer
than expected. When she’d blinked away the glare, a human was standing on the
Platter.
A cadre of Zebrites trotted up
to the edge, watching the human stumble down the lane, bumping into a large
feline and being sent fast stumbling by a heavy paw. They collapsed on the tile
in front of the Zebrites.
Cebble wheeled from the window
and hurried out of the reception area. She didn’t recognize the human, but she
recognized the disorientation symptoms from hours of viewing people arrive.
Some didn’t react well to node travel. If humans in general didn’t, their
method of arrival made sense. There were too many all at once, but maybe that
was necessary. And she could ask—if she could be the assigned reception
recovery agent.
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