Day 2999 on Luna... a day of avoidance...

I'm sitting in the Park with Yaeyeia and Kevin. They are avoiding the hated new junior ambassador Woh. Apparently he is a very irritating addition to the Oeyian Embassy.

I am avoiding picketing at the Uralian Embassy. Shouting between the WWE (We Welcome Everyone!) and the Anti-Exos (Aliens Out of Luna!) is too loud to concentrate on anything I might want to concentrate on. Even in the basement. And twice a day, in time for ComNews updates, the picketers are joined by the Press. They try to interrogate our Gilgot guards. The guards find them distracting. So far none of the Press have been eaten, but I don't expect that happy state of affairs to continue indefinitely.

"You don't have any picketers?" I ask.

"Not yet." Yaeyeia asserts. "We expect them daily, but so far they aren't hating plants."

"Do you have prejudice on Oeyiah?" I ask.

She thinks for a moment. "Well, the trees, naturally, think they are superior to everyone else. And we all have a low opinion of fungal intelligence. But, no, generally we tend to view our species as part of an interdependent system - all of the parts are needed for the whole to work properly."

"So your feelings for Woh aren't prejudice..."

"Our feelings for Woh are prejudice against know-it-all, entitled, totally incompetent, rude, condescending..."

"Messy..." adds Kevin.

"In other words, he's young," I summarize.

"He's a blot," insists Yaeyeia.

I sigh. Uralia had always had problems between Urans and Lians. Our speaker Lncn wants this tradition to be eradicated on our new planet, Botslean. My investigations into prejudice do not appear to encourage that hope.

"The picketers are REALLY loud," I observe.

"I bet they are."

"And they leave FastFood wrappers scattered across Clmntr's garden.”

"Good thing she's not here, then."

"She's so even-tempered she'd just smile and pick them up."

"Who's picking them up now?"

"Me, Juan and Wan, the Gilgot guards, whoever goes out the door and sees them. Mostly Juan and Wan. I mostly go out the garage."

"To avoid the trash?"

"Maybe..."

"To avoid the picketers?"

"Definitely!"

Yaeyeia sighs and looks at Kevin. "I guess we should be getting back to the Embassy."

Neither one moves.

"We have work we should be doing."

They continue to sit.

Yaeyeia is a workaholic.

Woh must be REALLY irritating...

***

A month later. We are supposed to be at a meeting of Exos and Lunar Ambassadors at the Smedley Center.

As usual nowadays, pickets are blocking the entrance.

I'm not good with human facial recognition; I can't tell if they are the same people as the ones protesting our Embassy or if they are a separate-but-equal group.

DeAndre Johnson, the Ambassador from New Princeton is speaking using a bullhorn. "What was once yours, and then had to be shared, will be yours once again!"

What are we supposed to be stealing from the Lunars? The plots of land our Embassies are on? The air we breathe? The water we drink? The food we eat?

Or is it really just the irritation of having us around? Are we like Woh to some Lunars?

The Exos adjourn to the Xx Embassy, which also has continued picket-free. So far they aren't hating slime mold OR plants, apparently.

The Gilgot Ambassador Heresh observes that the Gilgot Embassy ALSO has no picketers. I don't blame the picketers for avoiding that particular challenge; you may hate exos, but do you want to risk being eaten to express those sentiments?

I have never been in the Xx Embassy before and am fascinated to see their home "digs." They live in a giant stone cavern, warm, dark, very humid; there is a shallow puddle of water covering much of the floor. Yaeyeia thinks it is wonderful. Kevin is studying his sodden shoes sadly. I like the heat compared to chilly Luna. I don't mind wet feet.

When our eyes adjust to the dimness, we notice there are several folding chairs leaning against a wall. Kevin and the Polarans start setting them up. We settle into these (extremely uncomfortable) seats, with Yaeyeia positioning her pot as far from Woh and his pot as the room allows. Sitting backward on the chair, my tail is in the water. I cannot shake it dry without spraying everyone in the room. It remains, like Kevin's shoes, sodden and uncomfortable. But, still, I am excited to experience the Xx environment.

The Delitrian Ambassador is making a speech, something about "rising" and "creating hope on a daily basis." I think he is channeling the older woman at New Haifa.

Yaeyeia suggests funding the Gilgot to create a picketer-free zone outside the Smedley Center when meetings are scheduled. She recommends selecting exceptionally hungry Gilgot for the task. Everyone (except the Delitrian) laughs and applauds.

When this all started, Yaeyeia (who has a very practical turn of mind) had recommended investing in the local smuggling industry. Actually, I'm not certain at that time there WAS a smuggling industry on Luna. Everything grown or manufactured on Luna was traded freely. Gilgot imports likewise.

But now, it appears that with New Princeton closing their docks and not allowing delivery or sale of alien goods, and New Chicago and New DC joining them during the past six weeks, things are changing.

The Gilgot, always focused on trade, report not EVERYONE in New Princeton, New Chicago, or New DC hates/fears exos. Even those who do, do not necessarily feel this should mean they cannot have exo-sourced goods. Unlike Ambassador Johnson, they do NOT feel prejudice demands sacrifice.

To meet this need, Lunars, ever creative, have devised a smuggling system to move goods from exo-permitting Cities to exo-excluding Cities and a black market to get those goods to eager consumers.

The Gilgot report increased shipments to New Toronto, the City closest to New DC. Their paid human spies (Ambassador Heresh calls them "informants") in the exo-excluding cities provide information on local sentiment as well as details on the black market and smuggling systems.

Uralians do not have "informants." I guess we don't feel a need to know what is going on that cannot be supplied by ComNews.

Humans, like most species, work to create an environment that is comfortable for them. Once established, again, like most species, they do not want things disrupting their comfortable environment. They will sacrifice any cherished ideal to maintain that comfortable environment.

Even fear and hate must bend to comfort.

Probably, if we are just patient, things will normalize back to human comfort levels.

I hope that is true.

***

A week passes. Lt. Forbes has been called to New Portland (M) for a smuggling task force.

Dr. Madison is irate.

We are meeting at the FastFood so she can vent her feelings.

"OK, I understand that there are not that many Law Enforcement officers on Luna - we don't have that much crime - we don't typically need armies of officers to keep the peace. But NEW PORTLAND IS SO FAR AWAY! Why can't they draft officers from New Toronto or the other New Portland or..." She breaks off in frustration. With three children, and another imminent, losing her supporting partner is making her uncharacteristically panic-stricken.

I nod sympathetically. "The Gilgot report that the exo-trade exclusion is causing riots in New Princeton, Chicago and DC. Not everyone there can afford black market prices, and demand is far exceeding the supply. The Gilgot are making a lot of money because of the anti-alien decisions. Smugglers and black marketers are, too."

For the Gilgot, prejudice is a GOOD thing...

"But why MY HUSBAND?" she demands, reverting to her personal concerns. "Luna City is left with only two other officers. What if we NEED HIM? WHAT IF I NEED HIM??"

I (very carefully) pat her hand. "You have lots of friends. You'll get through this."

"I miss him so much." She begins to cry. I have never seen Dr. Madison cry.

"Of course you do." I give her a hug.

***

Another month passes. New DC citizens are flooding into New Toronto because they are missing Gilgot deliveries. New Toronto has built a new hotel to handle the visitors.

The Lunar Government has ruled that if New Chicago, Princeton, and DC want to stop smuggling into their cities, they will have to handle it themselves.

Lieutenant Forbes is now back from New Portland (M). Which is good because the Forbes family has another baby girl. Her name is Caroline. Although human newborns tend to be needy, demanding, and not very interesting, she is actually pretty adorable. She seems to find me pretty fascinating, staring at me with her wide blue eyes. I think it's probably the crest feathers she finds so interesting.

Trekkers are canceling their reservations in New Chicago for the Christmas Festival of Lights. They don't want to be in a city with such limited resources. New Chicago businesses are beginning to panic.

Ambassador Johnson has a daily com-rant in which he decries the unpatriotic behavior of Lunars who still want alien-delivered goods. Who still welcome alien visitors.

A fire is started at the door of the Polaran Embassy. The firemen put it out before there is much damage (stone buildings don't burn easily), but the door was metal and melted, and the Embassy must be entered through the garage until repairs can be made.

All of the Embassies are hiring Gilgot guards.

Did I mention, prejudice seems to be a GOOD thing for the Gilgot.

***

Another month later, rioters are pillaging New DC. They demand the docks be reopened and a resumption of Gilgot deliveries.

So far New Chicago or New Princeton citizens are not copying them.

***

Day 3100 on Luna.

New DC votes to reopen their docks for Gilgot transport deliveries!

I swear we can hear the cheering all the way in Luna City.

"Finally, I can get my favorite shampoo!" a citizen of DC tells a reporter on ComNews.

***

3103.

New Chicago, under pressure by businesses desperate to lure the trekkers back, votes to reopen their docks to Gilgot deliveries. It is now 31 days 'til Christmas...

Trekkers begin to uncancel their reservations. New Chicago business owners breathe a sigh of relief.

Only New Princeton remains blocked to deliveries. Smugglers and black marketeers concentrate their efforts there.

Ambassador Johnson is dismissive of the weakness shown by DC and Chicago. "Conflict reveals the true character of a people. Lead from the front or capitulate and fall out. Some Lunar Cities are being led by unpatriotic Lunars who prefer tainted alien goods and the invasion of their dangerous ideologies. We must rededicate ourselves to the fight for liberty, security, and peace."

Picketers in Luna City are finding more important things to do. We now have only three (two WWE and one Anti-Exos) left at our Embassy.

They are becoming part of the family.

I talk with the Anti-Exo, interested to hear what he thinks. He is actually a very nice young man named Frank. He joined the Anti-Exo movement (which he, of course, calls the Anti-Aliens movement) because he wants Luna to become more self-sufficient. He feels Lunars are becoming weak and lazy because exo-goods are so readily available. Otherwise, he likes exos and doesn't want us exterminated or banned from Luna. To him, it's all about the Lunars and not about us at all!

I doubt Ambassador Johnson feels the same way.

Juan and Wan are sharing cookies and sodas with the picketers during their coffee breaks. Our remaining picketers are not litterbugs.

***

Trekkers flood New Chicago for the Christmas Lighting Up Display.

I am a trekker this year, attending with Yaeyeia and Kevin. The lights are pretty, but New Chicago lowers the temperature for this holiday (apparently Christmas in Earth Chicago was cold) so I am fluffing my feathers and shivering. I remember Clmntr using a blanket to stay warm in New Petrograd. I should do something like that.

Ambassador Johnson has broadcast that Luna should boycott the trek to support the Anti-Alien cause.

Trekker numbers are up considerably over last year...

***

We are back in Luna City, back at one of our (unending) Smedley Center meetings, another meeting between Exo-Ambassadors and the Ambassadors of the Lunar Government.

Perhaps the Anti-Exo unrest was a good thing after all... it certainly reduced the number of meetings we had to attend.

But... I'm an Ambassador... my job is to attend meetings (and try not to end up at war with anybody.) So, I'm attending this meeting.

At the end of the meeting, everyone exits. Most linger outside in the roofed entry area. I realize I have lost my com, and go back inside to see if it is near my perch.

I pass Ambassador Heresh, who is moving toward the offices wing, probably to visit the Gilgot Office. The New Toronto and New Minneapolis Ambassadors are still in the meeting room involved in a deep discussion.

Site management is moving furniture around for the next meeting. The cleaning crew is bringing equipment into the room.

I find my com hiding under my perch, and I lean over to retrieve it.

Suddenly there is a rumble. A blast! A crash! The ceiling crumbles! The walls collapse!

Panic ensues. Lunars and Exos, including me, are scrambling to safety. In vids, victims of explosions always are screaming. None of the victims in the Smedley Center are making a sound; they are just running.

I am hit on the head by some of the falling debris. Everything goes dark.

I become conscious to a dark, smoke-filled world. I slowly realize it is not smoke - it is dust. Dust from the crumbling stone used in constructing Lunar buildings. And the dust on Luna is regolith.

I'm in a small opening surrounded by piles of stone rubble and broken furniture.

I have the worst headache I have ever experienced, and when I try to stand, I am too dizzy. My left arm-wing also seems to not be working. My brain is not working very well.

The dust - lunar regolith - tickles my nostrils. I sneeze. Regolith has sharp edges - that is why it can't be used for growing plants until it is weathered and mixed with organics to become soil. It seems to be especially irritating to breathe... possibly even dangerous... I try not to breathe too much. I sneeze again.

"Hello? Hello? Is someone there?" a voice calls from the gloom.

"Yes," I respond (weakly.) "I'm here."

"Keep talking," the voice demands. "I'll find you."

Scrambling noises follow.

I don't know what to say. My mind clamps onto a text I memorized when first trying to master the Lunar Standard language: "We hold - (breathe) - these truths - (uh) - to be self-evident - (gasp) - that all men - (sneeze) - are created equal - (pause) - that they are -"

"There you are!" A being clambers up next to me. "Are you all right?"

Damn.

It is Ambassador Johnson.

I'd rather have been flattened by a roof-stone...

"Fine..." I murmur.

"I think we're trapped for now. But rescuers will be coming quickly. We just need to be patient."

(And not be buried by a further collapse) I think to myself.

I'd rather not be buried with Ambassador Johnson, die beside Ambassador Johnson, have my last memory be of Ambassador Johnson, hater of "aliens."

My arm-wing is throbbing. My head is throbbing. And I am trapped, breathing regolith, with an "alien hater."

This may be the nadir of my existence...

No... my kids are OK. So it's not the worst I've been through...

Again I try to stand. There is something wrong with my left leg or foot. It is not working and feels numb. Standing is not an option.

"Just stay still," the Ambassador recommends. "We don't know how stable things are."

(But you were just scrambling around) I think. Still, he's probably right. And I'm not going anywhere anyway.

"The Uralian Ambassador, right?" he asks. He can't actually see me in the dusty dark, but he might have touched my feathers.

"Right. Ambassador Johnson of New Princeton, right?"

"Right."

Time passes.

I sneeze a lot.

"Do you think it was a moonquake?" I ask. They are common, caused by the tidal pull of the large planet Earth that Luna orbits. Sometimes they rattle buildings. I've never heard of one being strong enough to collapse a building, however. Maybe the Smedley Center, Luna's largest building, was vulnerable?

The Ambassador sighs. "No, I don't think it was a moonquake."

Time passes.

Finally, "I suspect it was one of my supporters," he volunteers.

"But... you're here?"

"I wasn't supposed to be. I had a com-call to go to a meeting in New Chicago this morning. I decided not to go there but to come here instead."

"Bad choice," I say, and sneeze.

"My intuition wasn't working very well," he agrees.

Time passes.

"One of your supporters pickets our Embassy - Frank - I don't know his family name. He seems quite nice," I tell him. "He mostly wants Lunars to become more self-sufficient, less reliant on exos."

"I don't know many of our supporters," he says. He doesn't actually seem very interested.

How could a leader not be interested in his followers?

Time passes.

"I wanted to unite Lunars in a common project," he tells me.

"So you could become Executive Ambassador?" I ask, feeling snarky.

Silence.

"So you noticed that..." he says thoughtfully.

"A human friend noticed. She told me."

Silence.

Time passes. I'm feeling sleepy, but know this temptation should be fought to stay alive. "Talk," I tell the Ambassador. "I'm having trouble staying awake."

"Four score and seven years ago..." He pauses. "I can't remember the rest..."

He sighs. "I DID want to unite Lunars. I don't want us to develop hatreds and prejudices against subgroups of our own kind."

"So you create hatred and prejudice against those not of your kind," I accuse.

"It works," he asserts.

Silence.

"A friend tells me that humans of your phenotype were once the subject of racial hatred and abuse. I can understand wanting to prevent that happening again," I tell him.

"The same friend?"

"Different friend."

"Human friend?"

"Of course."

"You have a lot of human friends."

"I enjoy interacting with other species, hearing their ideas. And there are not so many non-humans on Luna."

"There are too many non-humans on Luna," he insists.

"How many non-humans are too many?"

"ANY non-humans are too many. Aliens make me nervous."

"Why?"

Silence.

I try again. "Humans on Luna seem to get along very well with each other. I wouldn't want to tamper with that success."

Silence.

He finally says, "I believe it is inevitable that humans will create prejudice against an "other" to unite our species. To maintain that union. I just want the "other" to not be one of us."

I think of New Haifa - how all of the original settlers were sort of the same - how they have managed to split into two groups, the "frum" and the "non-frum". And the frum even split males and females. How can I argue that Ambassador Johnson is wrong?

But Uralians know how devastating these splits in a population can be. "On my planet, the original planet, we had two continents: Ura and Lia. The Urans felt the Lians were inferior. When our star began expansion, when we moved to planetoids further from the star, that prejudice moved with us. Now that we are moving to a new planet, our Speaker is trying to eliminate those feelings."

"Do you think it will work?"

I think again.

"No. I wish it would, but no, I don't think it can be eliminated."

"Me neither," he sighs.

I think about how well Clmntr and Lnbršr, both Lians, and I get along. But that is not the issue. Individuals OFTEN get along. It is groups that hate each other.

A long time passes in silence. I'm not sleepy now. I'm busy thinking about what he has told me. It makes my head hurt even worse.

Digging noises begin to be audible.

"Hello! We're here!" cries the Ambassador.

I wince at the loud noise.

A couple of hours later, we are rescued.

***

I am in the new Exo wing of the Luna City Hospital.

The New Toronto and New Minneapolis Ambassadors died in the collapse. The site management team and cleaning staff also are dead. The Gilgot Ambassador Heresh, who is quite elderly, is presently hospitalized but not expected to live.

Everyone who was inside the building, with the exception of Ambassador Johnson and me (and for the moment Ambassador Heresh), died.

All of the others, who had been outside in the roofed entry area, are in the hospital - either the Exo wing or the original Lunar one - with injuries from the blast. The New Nuuk Ambassador and the Junior Polaran Ambassador are both seriously injured.

Ambassador Johnson escapes with barely a scratch, barely a bruise.

The Powers Ruling the Universe have a sick sense of humor... and NO sense of justice.

It will take months to repair the Smedley Center. Maybe years before it is completed.

***

Yaeyeia (recovering from several broken stems and lost leaves), Kevin (in a wheelchair), my Ambassador-Guardian (with several casts and splints), Wan, Juan, and the Xx (in a new, unshattered petri dish, and with most of the glass fragments cleared from their populace) are visiting. They have brought ... chicken nuggets!

I love my friends.

Kevin was the hero that day. He not only wheeled Yaeyeia and Woh out beyond the falling debris as soon as the explosion happened, he also went back under the tilting and crumbling roof to lead out the Ambassadors from New Nuuk and New Petrograd. He grabbed the flag over the Xx petri dish and dragged them to safety, too. He then joined the rescuers digging through the rubble - all this with a fractured rib and a cracked fibula.

Yaeyeia is counting my wounds: "A concussion, fractured skull, scarred lungs from breathing regolith, a broken arm, a broken leg, crushed foot... are you trying for a medical record?"

"You're forgetting the worst part," I tell her.

"Being trapped with Ambassador Johnson?" suggests Yaeyeia.

"Got it in one," I agree.

"Did he say anything interesting?" Kevin asks.

"He said he was trying to unite the Lunars," I tell him.

"In HATE?" demands Yaeyeia.

"It works," I quote the Ambassador.

***

Lt. Forbes and Dr. Madison are visiting. (Children are not allowed to visit in the hospital unless they are visiting a parent or sibling, so they are staying with a grandparent.) The Forbes, too, have brought nuggets (my friends know me so well!) And the latest Caroline pics on their coms.

"It WAS an IED bomb, manufactured and planted by the Anti-Alien movement," the Lieutenant reports. "The planter of the bomb couldn't get out quickly enough. We found his body in the rubble."

"But why would they blow up the Smedley Center - one of their own buildings - their own GOVERNMENT?!" I ask.

"They feel betrayed by their own Government. They feel the Government is allowing, even encouraging exos to come to Luna, interact with Luna, trade with Luna. They felt bombing during a meeting of Exo and Lunar Ambassadors would send a message."

"Did it?"

"I think it may backfire; Lunars recoil from violence. And especially since they harmed their own Leader, Ambassador Johnson, some of their own people may want to rethink their tactics. Violence will probably be dropped in favor of safer methods of protest."

"Well, that's something!" asserts Dr. Madison.

"Do you think he'll be elected Executive Ambassador?"

Lt. Forbes sighs. "Who knows?"

"Humans are often stupid when voting," Dr. Madison says. She's a historian; she would know.

***

Ambassador Johnson is NOT elected Executive Ambassador. The incumbent is reelected. But there is ALWAYS another election...

New Princeton remains the only Lunar City closed to Gilgot trade. Smuggling and the black market are very popular there and apparently the source of crime and unrest.

New DC and New Chicago import additional goods to meet the needs of New Princeton. Their economies are doing well.

New Toronto and New Minneapolis have scheduled elections. In the meantime, other officials have taken over Ambassadorial duties.

There have been no further acts of violence against exos or against the Lunar Government.

The Anti-Exo movement has split into two groups: the non-violent members retain the Anti-Alien name; the pro-violence (purity at any cost!) members start a new organization: the Pro-Human League.

Ambassador Heresh (a tough old reptile!) has surprised the medical staff and is slowly on the mend. He is out of hospice care and expected to live, possibly recovering completely!

I am out of the hospital, rolling around in a tail-friendly version of a wheelchair with an oxygen mask.

Things are back to "normal."

Sorta...

But... I no longer feel "safe" - are the humans I interact with REALLY glad I'm here on Luna, or would they prefer I stay far away? Would they prefer I was DEAD?

We now have four picketers outside our Embassy. Frank has been joined by a friend, Thomas. They both assure me they are Anti-Alien, not Pro-Human.

Great. More divisions. More reasons to hate each other...

...

...and I still have NO IDEA why the Feyar think we are abusing them...