Study Abroad: Transgalaxy

Word count: 5797
Status: Completed; considering expansion

    Damienikale Forq ducked into the small spacecraft. It was faced with four seats, two on either side of the short aisle. It placed its University-issued black leather messenger bag on the left aisle seat and sat in the one closest to the window. Damienikale fiddled with the pants legs of its new blue-gray uniform. It would be attending Bynna-Ortega University in Neurichmond, Commonwealth of Virginia, the Reunited States of the Americas, Planet Earth.
    The young being would be the first Tarliquan to study on Earth, though not the first alien, as Earthlings have named space's careless inhabitants. Eleven other Tarliquan voyages proceeded Damienikale. They insured that their species could live on the planet for extended periods of time in order to conduct research. The Tarliquans living on Earth continue to send data back to The University, the hub of planet Tarlique aside from the government.
    Damienikale felt Tarlique's gravity grapple with the spacecraft. A Tarliquan piloted the spacecraft since black holes and other spacial debris collected between the Milk Way and Meiogine galaxies. Damienikale glanced out the circular window though there was nothing to see. A matte gray shield surrounded the fast shrinking planet. The breath-catching sting of forgetfulness alerted it to the fact that it hadn't asked for the estimated time of arrival. It could be thousands of lightcycles before he landed on Earth.
    The young Tarilquan decided to check its university schedules and dorm assignment. The University might have changed its mind and reassigned him elsewhere in the universe. The prolonged turbulence made opening the Earthling-styled bag tough. The burst of speed signaled their safe escape from the atmosphere and sent The Link flying out of the bag to clatter against the door to the cockpit. Damienikale retrieved The Link, a slightly more compact version of Earth's "lap-tops." It set it on its lap and linked in. The information was written in both English and Tarliquese, but Damienikale practiced the former.
 

THE UNIVERSITY
Center of Tarlique
    -180-DEGREE CYCLE 80,342,568,324,342-
    Major: Intergalactic Studies
        Daily, Linked In
            - SPA 200: Space Exploration — Cycle 40,171,284,162,171 to Present
            - PSY 345: Science or Religion?
            - POL 104: Dominating Without Them Knowing

———————————————————————————————————————
BYNNA-ORTEGA UNIVERSITY
80 Upper Triad Street Neurichmond, C.O.V., 23111-84159
    -FALL SEMESTER 2599-
    Major: Human Biology
        MWF 8:00 - 12:00, Room 579
            - BIO 100: Biology for Beginners
        MWF 14:00 - 18:00, Room 213
            - BIO 106: Everybody's Body and Yours
    MINOR: World History
        T 8:00 - 14:00, Room 210
            - HIS 100: Ancient America — Formation to 2320
        TH 8:00 - 14:00, Room 129
            - HIS 167: World War XIII: Why?

Dorm: Anneal Apartments
83 Upper Triad Street Neurichmond, C.O.V., 23111-84159
    Male's Wing: Floor 3, room 17C

    After reading it a few times more, Damienikale smiled to itself. Out of the millions of Tarliquans attending The University, it was the one traveling to Earth. It put The Link aside and went back to picking at the uniform. Running a finger inside the jacket, it found its name sewn under "Return this to." Another smile captured its face. Just ten degrees by the Sun ago, its parents had finally named it. It was no longer "Offspring Number 14." It was a memory it had replayed often since.
    "Please reconsider, Offspring Number 14," Troviani Forq, its parent, said. "For certain You will be caught."
    "I cannot, Parent. I will succeed and bring back much Knowledge for Tarlique. I will study at Bynna-Ortega University in Neurichmond, Commonwealth of Virginia, the Reunited States of the Americas, Planet Earth," it said.
    Troviani's slanted eyes leaked fat tears, but it made no sounds of grief or anger. It caressed its offspring's strong cheekbones and brushed black shoulder-length hair from a pore-less forehead. Offspring looked towards the portal. Blue-green particles swirled leisurely in its confines, waiting to transport it out and away. Instead, Offspring's other parent, Gitor Forq, emerged, blood prominent in its cheeks and lowered eyebrows.
    "Earth has not yet been fully investigated, Offspring. You won't go," Gitor said.
"It has been decided. The University picked Me to study Abroad for the Good of Tarlique. I will still be taking Classes for my Intergalactic Studies Major at The University through The Link. On Earth, I will be majoring  in Human Biology and minoring in World History."
    "Mate. It already exercises Decision making. Think It is ready?" Troviani asked, turning slightly, causing long black hair to whip around its calves.
    Gitor's stern face melted into a neutral expression. It crossed its undefined arms and considered its offspring's carefully blank features and its mate's, equally supportive and uncertain. Gitor walked away to sit on the edge of Offspring's sleeping platform. Troviani's thin yellowish fingers withdrew from Offspring's face and moved to slide its fingers along Gitor's features. They were determining whether to pass their final spawn into The Rearing.
    Offspring was the last of the Forq's progeny to be named. A name signified the end of Infancy. Of the four stages of life in Tarliquan society, Infancy could be extended indefinitely. Complications with increasing mental capacity and mastering body functions require young Tarliquans to be sent to The University for treatment in the heart of Tarlique. When satisfied with the offsprings' progress, they are returned to the parents who ultimately decide to allow passage into The Rearing. Offspring was one with such a problem and only been released a little earlier.
    A connection shimmered between Gitor and Troviani, effectively keeping their conversation secret. Offspring studied them as they gazed into each other's liquid black eyes. Both were slender and of an average height with a creamy cast to their skin that sallowed in the overhead lights. Troviani ran a hand over its mate's cropped hair. Gitor's arms were still crossed over its ample chest, its shapely legs outstretched. In contrast, Troviani's muscles were well-defined and its calf-length hair pooled across the sleeping platform.  Its legs were pointed in Offspring's direction, but its upper body was twisted towards Gitor.
    The pregnant silence caught Offspring's wandering attention. Both of its parents were watching it. They said nothing, so neither did it. Offspring clasped its hands behind its back, then flicked its fingers back and forth. Troviani straightened up.
    Gitor gave a sigh that loosened its arms and caused its chest to bounce. "Offspring... I still say You should not travel to Earth. Pick any other Planet, well-discovered, to study at. Please."
    "The University established my Transfer. I will not budge, even if I could."
    Gitor squeezed Troviani's hand. "Then...W-we n-n-n-name You... Damienikale Fourteen Forq. You are now in The Rearing Stage, given Responsibilities by Us, as well as The University. Travel...safely."
    Damienikale gasped. Shakily it took a few steps forward, knelt on both knees, and placed a hand against both of its parents' cheeks. "I am honored!"
    "But," Gitor said, "do not reveal Your Gender to the Earthlings. They will not understand."
    Damienikale's excitement dulled for a moment. From what it could remember from the debriefing it was given at The University earlier, Earthling genders were backwards. Earthling females' chest glands feed their offspring and their males had a dangling organ at the junction of their thighs. Troviani was its female parent. All of its organs are internalized. Gitor was the male and its chest glands held excess stores of maleness.  It had yet to take a Rearing-level class on the finer details of reproduction.
    "They will not know I am Female. I will make You and Tarlique proud of Me."
    Damienikale smiled again at its luck and loaded the program that would recite and picture disjointed English vocabulary. Unfortunately, Tarlique's contact with Earth was limited due to distance, as was the program. It would have to learn English on the ground. Damienikale reclined in the empty passenger compartment.
    "Pretzels. Steamboat. Matchbox. France. Goat. Blue. Computer," the program said. The speaker was male. It's voice was hypnotically high.
    Damienikale pulled Vision from its pocket. It plugged the jack into The Link. Two three-pronged clamps forked from the other end of the jack. Holding one clamp in each hand, it slipped them through its pupils with practiced ease. A familiar pinch signaled that the prongs gripped the proper nerves within its eye. Now the picture of "duck" and its spelling projected into Damienikale's mind.
    "Cheeseburger. Tax deduction. Pole dancer. Toothpaste. Art. Forty-nine. Condensation."
    Without anything else to keep it entertained, Damienikale hibernated.

~*~

    Damienikale woke to the sound of the spacecraft door sliding open. "Welcome to the Outskirts of  Neurichmond, Commonwealth of Virginia, the Reunited States of the Americas, Earth. Enjoy your Studies at Bynna-Ortega University," the pilot said. "Earthly Transportation is on the Way."
    "I thank You," Damienikale said. It stood, stretched, and remembered it was still plugged into The Link's audio program. After removing the prongs from its eyes, it gathered its  messenger bag and single piece of luggage. Vapors swirled in its gut as it observed its surroundings from the doorway.
    The area was covered in trees, a forest, the program had told it. The nine-meter spacecraft fit in the small field with mere centimeters to spare. Damienikale stepped off the short ramp. The hard matter beneath its feet, fertile soil, was infected with clumps of grass. Overhead, the leaves of the trees poked at a nondescript blue sky. A faint roaring sound crept down through the opening in the trees.
    The roaring grew louder and entered the tiny clearing. The brawny driver waved from the hover car. Its cheekbones were too long and high to be human. The taxi was painted an obnoxious shade of gold. The rear passenger door opened on well-oiled tracks. On the door was a black stripe carved through with gold, stenciled letters. "Speed o' Light Taxi," Damienikale said, grinning to itself.
    It placed its luggage in first and scooted onto the faux leather seat. Fumbling, much to the driver's amusement, Damienikale managed to buckle itself in. "This is so exciting!" it gasped, staring out the window as the taxi shifted into reverse.
    The taxi driver straightened up the steering handles and accelerated down the gravel path through the trees. "Sure is, huh? It's jarring at first. You'll like it here once you're used to it. I'm shocked The University was able to save and restaff that failing university over in Re-Seoul quickly to give you the background in order to transfer you to Bynna-Ortega"
    Damienikale glanced at the rear-view mirror. "Your Speech is odd. Earthlings speak like that? Have You lived here long? How did the Pioneers blend into Earthling Society well enough to secure that minor University?"
    The driver flashed it another bright smile and flipped switches. The hover car rose. "Almost a year, or exactly 3.35 Tarliquan cycles ago. You know of the Alkyon and the Neuzpe, right?"
    "Amazing! I will be here for 13.4 cycles. How many Years is that? The Neuzpe were the first to discover Earth. The Alkyon are the Universe's Suppliers of various cloaking Devices, correct?"
    "Four years," the Tarliquan said. "Yes. Those bastards have no sense of personal space. Correct about the Alkyon. No wonder they do what they do with their skeletal appearance, right? Though, they are eerily stunning. Anyway, after the Neuzpes' screwups with being caught and killed by humans, they bought devices that altered their appearance to walk Earth freely."
    The forests many miles below gave way to small dwellings and hover traffic. Damienikale placed its face against the glass, trying to devour the scenery and listen to the driver's advice. It had only just left the Infancy stage. It felt it should be allowed a few childish tendencies.
    "The Neuzpe are notorious for their ability to worm their way into anyone's good graces as long as their tentacles remained out of sight. This new group of cloaked Neuzpe were knocked off course and landed in Re-Seoul." The Tarliquan driver decelerated and crept to a stop under a large red spotlight. "They teamed up with ten Tarliquan researchers, mainly thanks to our resemblance to Earthlings, to safely infiltrate Earth. Thus they reestablished the University of Re-Seoul. You are our first in the Reunited States of the Americas."
    Driving through Neurichmond consisted of swerving around slow hover cars, diving under bridges, and speeding past glass and metal. Everything went by before Damienikale could attempt to name them. For all the black fumes belching from the back ends of the vehicles and tops of buildings, no smell met its nose. It smelled as sterile as a metal room, like home.
    "Let me give you the rundown of living on Earth. I didn't get one. Now first: learn the pronunciation, vocabulary, and writing as soon as possible. Nothing says 'foreigner' like an accent. Two: Exercise. Gets you used to the weaker gravity and keeps you in shape. Earth food is hard on our system."
    "The Food is hard on our Digestive System? Why?"
    "Everything is processed. It's run through a machine, shot up with supposedly nutritional shit, and delivered to your plate. The few things that are natural are affected by Earth's sun. It doesn't issue the same particles like our Sun. They are less potent. Either way, it's edible, but you must try spicy green bean casserole. It just—Just do it! Oh, what was your name again?"
    "Damienikale Fourteen Forq. Yours?"
    "Nakilmarian Three Warq. Here on Earth, I go by Nakil. Nice, short, and more importantly, pronounceable. Get one. Or better yet, 'Damien' is a popular Earthling name. Use that."
    "Da-mi-en," it said.
     The hover taxi corkscrewed into a descent. Damien saw an enormous silver building with copper accents. They were not close enough for him to puzzle out the letters on the highest tower.  The cityscape was the same as the white-and-black-city insignia on the jacket pocket of his uniform.
    Nakil pulled levers and flicked more switches. "A caution pertaining to the city: if anyone in a trench coat walks up to you and asks you if you're interested in buying something, run. You don't know what, or if anything's under there."
    The hover taxi slowed to a stop in the horseshoe behind other types of hover vehicles. The majority appeared to be parents helping their offspring transfer luggage to their living assignments. Some were in taxis like it. By jamming its face against the window, Damien could read the name on the building. "Bynna-Ortega University: Repository of Tomorrow's Minds." Hopefully misleading.
    Damien looked at the dashboard. It read 2599 AUG SAT 24 13:34. It is an Hour and thirty-four Minutes past Noon. This is around the Time Earthlings eat their second Meal called Lunch. It grinned widely. The University had chosen it to remain seventeen cycles, about five years, extra in Infancy to instill what knowledge of Earth it had acquired. After it obtained proper motor skills and brain capacity.
    The taxi inched forward to pull over and park at the 45-degree mark. As it reached to open the door, Nakil reached across the seat to grip Damien's shoulder.
    "This is the most important thing I drill into you. You are an Earthling male," Nakil said. "We are both females, but start referring to yourself as male. Don't you dare say otherwise or reveal that you are from another galaxy. Humans are still lightcycles behind the rest of space. You'll end up on a metal table with your guts hanging out, like a Neuzpe."
    "I will remember," Damien said.
    "And if you ever need anything—except money, The University supplies you with an allowance—call me," Nakil said, handing over its—his—taxi card.
    "Thank you," Damien said, placing the card in his uniform jacket.
    "Good job. You're already working on your speech. Off with you. Got to get back to intelligence for The University. Your audio program doesn't get made by itself."
    "O-oh! Thank You for that, too. I found the Audio Program most helpful."
    "Watch it. You're slipping. See you around."
    And with that, Damien was left a tenuous tie in a world of humans.

~*~

    "New guy's coming in—Duuude! Do you know karate?"
    "Really, Kevin? It's 2599. That joke's been recycled for about 700 years. Not all Asians have kept up martial arts, you know," the athletic, dark-skinned human said. He placed a box of kitchen equipment on the island.
    Kevin was of pure Caucasian descent. He was strong of jaw, blue-eyed, and had a cropped haircut, blonde. His uniform was modified. Patches of colors, probably in fashion, were sewed in at random. The white collar of his shirt was splayed over that of the jacket. This human might be what is called "in."
    Damien remembered another page The University had instructed him to memorize. The majority of Earthling fashion emphasized pale, minimalistic garments. Tops had either a wide or scooped neckline. Patches and decorative jewelry were common accessories to relieve the monotonousness among the youth. Bottoms and shoes were simply functional slip-ons that resisted most damage.
    "Kevin's being racist again?" A purple-headed male walked through the open front door of their apartment-style dorm with suitcases. He glanced at Damien as he passed by. Damien couldn't decide what race he belonged to.
    "You know I'm only joking," Kevin said. He dug a pinky into his ear. "Anyway. Now's a good time for intros, right, sensei?"
    The male that had admonished Kevin glowered at him again. He was dressed in street clothes, a simple cloth T-shirt, tannish form-fitting pants, and casual shoes. His hair must have been permed recently, because it hung bone-straight. Damien finally recalled the term he was looking for: African American. He moved away from the kitchen toward Damien.
    "I'm Serigo Taylor. Call me Serge. Don't know what the hell my parents were doing. I don't have a drop of Italian blood in me, as far as I know. I'm from 'Lorado," he said, large hand held out to Damien.
    The audio program hadn't showed anything related to this type of hand motion. Damien eyed it and held out his own. "I am called Damienikale Fourteen Forq. "Damien" is easier to pronounce. I am from—" Tarlique. "Afar."
    "How the hell do you say your name? What kind of middle name is 'fourteen?' How afar is afar? Like District of Columbia's Chinatown afar? Korea afar? Japan afar?" Kevin said. He had crept close enough to make Damien back up half a step.
    "I t-t-took a Hov-ver T-t-taxi and—"
    "Look what you've done. He's clamming up!" the purple-haired human said. He flicked hair out of his eyes. He had also shucked the starchy uniform for a gray wide-necked, three-quarter sleeved shirt, white bottoms, and black flipflops. This one interested Damien. He looked like a Tarliquan female, very like himself.
    Kevin plopped into the armchair he had vacated. "Tch. Whatever. Well, I'm Kevin Robertson. Born and reared in Tennessee," he said.
    "Jericho Jung. Long story short: I'm a little bit of everybody. Ma's majority Brazilian, lot more blood in there, and my father's from Indigypt, with the rest of the blood. I was born in D.C.," Jericho said. He turned his attention back to moving in.
    "Is there a story to your middle name? It is kind of odd," Serge said, handshake forgotten.
    Damien thought fast as he substituted Tarliquan concepts for earthly ones. "My Parents gave birth to fourteen Children of which I am the fourteenth. It is easier to keep track of Us with numbers."
    "That's funny. My parents should have thought of that," Jericho said.
    "Six isn't a large number. So, what're you majoring and minoring in, Damien?"
    "Human Biology and World History," he said.
    "Odd combination, but we might have a class or two together. I'm in for Genetic Statistics and Behavioral Probability."
    "I'm for Cognitive Advertising and Historical Advertising. Thanks for asking. Someone somewhere will always need advertising," Kevin drawled.
    "Hey, 'Richo! What were you taking up?" Serge yelled. Damien hadn't noted Jericho leaving the immediate room, especially with two thirty-inch suitcases.
    Jericho's exasperation traveled down the hall to the three standing in the small common room. "Dynamic Encryption and Discrete Cosmetology. I have much to unpack," he called.
    "Pfft. Glad we each have our own bedrooms. No guy should have that much shit, especially makeup," Kevin said. He started down the other end of the hall to the last room on the right side of the T-shaped apartment.
    "Don't be jealous because I get to run my hands over the face of women all day while you sit amongst aging men," Jericho said. He was leaning against the metal doorframe of his room on the opposite end.
    Kevin made as if to yell, thought better of it, and opted to slam the door instead.
    "Mhm. Well, Damien, we should get unpacked too. Oh, thanks for filling in our empty spot. Who'd want a drunken sex-crazed douche for a roommate again? Anyway, tonight, Bynna-Ortega's paying for us sophomores, and the upperclassmen, to hit up Club SupaSonic to reconnect or whatnot. I'm going for the food. Odd, huh? A club with not only edible, but good food!"

~*~

    "That's lame! Who wants to go to a school-sponsored event? Let's watch Wing Bak: Funeral in the Ghetto!" Kevin said. The filling of his designated armchair moaned as he sat forward.
    "Dude. That insults everyone in the room, except you. We're watching The Scandalous Lives of Amish Folks. I missed episode eighteen last week. Can you believe they're still around?" Jericho said. He was sprawled out on the couch across from the TV. Staccato blurbs of dialogue filled the room as he tried to find the show.
    "Guys, come on! The food! The girls, music, dancing. You can watch your damn movie, show, any other night of the semester," Serge said. "Damien is going. He's never even been before, right?"
    Damien, who was sitting on the floor directly in front of the TV, jerked around to face Serge. The brown man had pulled his hair into a short ponytail. He wore the same outfit, except he was no longer sweaty. "I, um, yes."
    Kevin's 3D Personalizer beeped. He flipped it open to read the message. Damien watched his eyes dart back and forth across the expanded screen. He tried to read it, but he was still learning to read English forwards. A triumphant grin spread across Kevin's square jaw. "I knew she couldn't reject me for long! I'm so going. Got to pick up Zoe. And her friends. Wait for me!" Kevin sprang out of his seat, ran past Serge, and out the door.
    "Get back by 21:00!" Serge yelled at the closed door.
    "I'm still not going," Jericho murmured to no one in particular.
    "Why?" Damien asked.
    Jericho paused his channel hopping and rolled to the edge of the cushion to set his hazel eyes on him. "Because people are gross in numbers. People go to the restroom, don't wash their hands, then grind all over you. No thanks."
    "Transmitting Germs to other Humans willing is unsanitary. I need to use the Waste—er, Toilet."
    The tan-skinned man gave him an odd look before looking back at the TV.  "Sure?"
    Damien went into the full bathroom adjacent to the front door. It was done up in neutral shades of tan and off-white. Closing the door, he was faced with a bathtub. He moved closer to inspect the controls. Directly above was a shower faucet. Humans do so love to combine appliances. To his right was the toilet.  He lifted the seat a few times, noticed the handle, and pushed it. The water was sucked into the floor.
    Satisfied for the moment, Damien used it. He was thankful for how easy it was. He sat, relaxed, and gravity did the rest. The next step was to dry one’s self. Located paper. Upon flushing again, Damien moved to the sink. It looked like a bowl sitting atop the counter. The long neck of the faucet spewed water that collected in the bowl before draining into the counter. He looked at himself as he washed his hands.
    His eyes were black, slanted upwards. His sharp nose was a little flat, but not too much so. He liked that his lips were pink, smooth, and long. Drying off one hand, he ran it through his black locks. He too had changed for Club SupaSonic. Damien hoped he looked well in his red fitted, short-sleeve shirt, black shorts, and his favorite pair of functional sandals. Damien exited and returned to watching Amish families live without technology.
    The next two hours passed the same way. Every half hour, Damien would get up and use the restroom. The first ten Tarliquans created Immunizations and I took all two hundred and eighty-six of them in Shot-form. I'm safe. Is there enough Data to be sure They would sufficiently protect Me? Would They last four Years? Why does “Grind” sound painful? What is “Grind?” The questions only fueled his bladder all the more. Returning from the fourth trip, he found Jericho studying him over the back of the couch.
    "Can I help You? Um, can I help you?"
    He crossed his arms behind his head and fell backwards. "No."
    Serge's finger steadily tapped his bicep. He turned his wrist a bit to see the time. It was nearly midnight. They would have left Kevin if he hadn't had the ride. The sound of churning butter made Damien's stomach swirl. Before he could make trip number five, the front door burst open.
    "Perv!" A woman said. Her declaration was backed by a chorus of giggles.
    "Can't smooch my own girlfriend in a hallway while her friends watch?" Kevin asked.
    "What is a 'Perv?'"
    "What? A pervert's a guy who puts his terrible sexual views on another," said Kevin. "Don't do it. Alright! I've got the ladies, let's go!"

~*~

    Neurichmond by night blinded Damien more than speeding past reflected sunlight. Instead of flying above the rooftops, Kevin drove his eight-seater luxury hover along the forgotten foundations, though only forgotten by upper class adults. Damien saw many trench coat-wearing strangers slithering in and out of tinted doors. Women wore little in the way of clothing. Zoe and her friends were barely decent according to Earth's cultural laws.
    Damien squirmed in his seat. The seatbelt restricted his movements. His chest might cave in. He hoped his bowels weren't audible to the five other occupants. Damien shared the middle three seats with Lunaly. She'd felt the need to sit next to him, her frizzy orange mane infringing upon his space. Cora and Emilia whispered of things in the backseat, causing Serge, in between, to laugh every so often.
    Zoe half-turned in the front passenger seat to smile and stroke Damien's knee. "New meat, I see. Not many Asians leave the East anymore."
    "Yeah," Lunaly said. "Seems they're exploring the idea of isolation again. What brings you to B-O, my white chocolate-drenched licorice stick?"
     "This...University had the best Curriculum in both Human Biology and World History. Thus I am here."
    "Only for the education? Not interested in the women?" Zoe said. She splayed a hand and ran it through her dirt brown hair.
    Kevin took his eyes of the smoggy traffic to eyeball her. "Who's the perv now? 'S alright, sensei. Your studies are most important."
    Club SupaSonic was built several miles underground to keep its advanced bass boost system from disturbing Neurichmond's sleepers. Essentially it was a brick box outlined with several kinds of metal. A complex arrangement of air ducts exchanged carbon dioxide for oxygen. A four by four meter-elevator and a stairwell three miles deep were the only ways down.
    The group and a handful of strangers piled into the crowded elevator. The vibes of music ricocheted through their heels, hips, heart, and head as they descended. Lunaly pressed against Damien's back though there was plenty of room. Her orange ringlets tickled his exposed collarbone. Damien's bladder clenched.
    The slow descent prepared the group for the onslaught of music, alcohol, and sweat. Everyone filed out swaying if not outright dancing. Kevin took Zoe and nabbed Lunaly, to her great distress, and disappeared into the light storm. Serge led Cora and Emilia to find the bar and mini restaurant. This left Damien alone and in sore need of a toilet.
    He skirted the main crowd by scraping along the brick wall. Soon he saw two white rectangles that appeared and disappeared frequently. As he made for them, a swell of bodies sucked him in and he lost sight of the doors. Limbs and other fat deposits pressed against him. He now understood grinding. Damien struggled against the germs likely infecting him now. Kicking into survival mode, he shoved humans away and sprinted as best as he could in the confined space.
    Now here he was, hyperventilating in an alcove across from the club’s waste units, as men and women exited and entered. Women used the right door and men the left. Which one was he supposed to use? In the dorm, there had only been one bathroom and all his roommates were male. Nothing could be done about that.
    The Tarliquan rubbed at his temples and stomped on the urge to rush a random door. Damien held his breath and slowly exhaled. Technically, he was female. On Tarlique, no one differentiated between genders. They all used the same bathroom because it was practical. It saved resources. But Earthlings seemed to cherish this custom of separation.
    Which to use? Damien continued to puzzle it out. The men's room sign had a black stick figure in a white triangle. If he walked into that one, he would be lying and thus undermining the Earthling way of urinating. He would be a shame to The University for not properly immersing himself in Earth's culture. If he went into the room with the figure in the white circle, he would be a “pervert” since he looked like a man and men can't use the women's, but he couldn't use the men's because he was female!
    But since I am a Male by Earthling Standards, it can't hurt to observe any Novelties in their Waste Units. Damien paused as the strong odor of alcohol assaulted his delicate nose. It radiated from the off-balanced man in front of him. The man politely held the door for Damien. He winked before stumbling over to a line of curvy white objects attached the wall. Each of the six men stood in front off one of the objects. They were well spaced out; no man was beside another.
    Damien's eyes dropped to the nearest man's object. Yellow liquid spurted from his reproductive organ. The man felt his gaze and gave him a dirty look. He raised one hand as if to strike him from across the room. "What the blazox are you looking at, fool? Like what you see, eh?"
    Damien yelped and retreated to his alcove. He rested his head on the brick wall, his straight black hair brushing his slumped shoulders. I can't use whatever those Things were. Were there any Units in there like the one in the Dorm? I don't remember. What Unit might the Women's have?
    His bladder made it known that it would soon expel its fluid. He must pick. Now. He closed his eyes and ran in circles again.
    He opened an eye to find the polite drunken man swaying far too close to his face. “Can I help You?"
    “I know you. You gay, sweet thing?” the man said, dragging out his vowels.
    “What?” His voice wavered between low feminine and high masculine. His temper was far too short to try to absorb anything this human was saying.
    “Do you like men? Would you have sex with a man?”
    Another Technicality! I had about six hundred Cycles—that is 180 years—until I'd start actively finding a Mate. The man seemed content enough to wait for an answer, so Damien kept thinking. Tarliquan Males don't excite Me, but that is due to my Immaturity, but I know I can reproduce with Them. Taking a Human Male Mate borders on being an Anomaly, since They look like Females. But.... Can I have Offspring with one?
    "Yes. Yes, I would have Sex with a Man.” With that, Damien had his answer.
    "How about we go back up then? I got a place up high!"
    Damien brushed the man aside and marched stiffly. He would make do with whatever urinating device was inside. He shoved the door so hard it thwacked off the tiled wall. A round of shrieks met him. A brunette whipped around and a redhead looked over her shoulder. Both stared at him in horror. It was Zoe and Lunaly.
    “The men’s is next door! Oh my gosh, get out! Dude! This is the ladies’ room!”
    “Worry not, Women. I am Gay,” Damien said without breaking his stride. He locked himself in the nearest unoccupied stall.
    Even if he was the twelfth Tarliquan on Earth, there were still a lot of holes in their understanding of humans. This situation required a lengthy research paper for the benefit of his home planet. Afterwards, he would discover what else this “gay” notion could do. And was it possible to mate with a male Earthling?
    Fortunately, the toilet functioned like that of the dorm. Damien let himself out of the stall and made for the sink. Every few seconds a woman entering squealed upon seeing him. As he located a source for drying his hands, Zoe and Lunaly regained their composure.
    A woman placed her hands in a white, waist-level machine. Air forcefully blew past her wet hands. Damien copied her. It was an odd sensation.
    "Damien, is that true?" Zoe said, brown eyes wide.
    "I would sleep with a man, yes." He could now actively monitor his pronunciation.
    Zoe's face cracked into a silly grin. He realized her teeth were uneven. "That's why you didn't bite our bait! We just don't have the parts you're interested in."
    He made a noncommittal noise in his throat, staring at his dry hands. They were a bit itchy.  Damien tensed when someone stepped too closely to him. Lunaly glared at him. "Leprechaun" popped into his head. She was about a foot and a half shorter than him.
    She pointed a finger in his face. "I've claimed you for mine, my white chocolate-drenched licorice stick. Before we graduate in two year's time, I will have converted you."
    Damien pivoted and reentered the stall.