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Viola Flosarvum, First Bloom, was usually the first to arrive at the Domestication Center. Not today, it would seem. She always arrived early, enjoying the feeling of starting her day with an early morning stroll from her home, through the nearby park, and to the Nexway Domestication Center. While the morning joggers were initially surprised to see the tall, flower-covered affini sharing the sidewalk with them, they had gradually become used to each other. Viola’s heart soared the first time one of them waved at her.
As her two florets so frequently reminded her, it wasn’t really necessary for Viola to begin her work this early in the morning. Truly, since last month’s domestication of the trade planet of Nexway, most terrans had started waking during the mid to late morning, a couple hours from now. Even her affini coworkers showed up later, instead preferring to spend their mornings with their precious florets. But Viola felt a certain degree of responsibility: there was always the possibility that someone would need the Center’s assistance first thing in the morning, and that they’d be left waiting outside the doors for an affini to arrive. And even outside of true emergencies, if such a xenosophont were wanting to be domesticated, the longer they were left waiting, the more likely they were to get cold feet. Her coworkers appreciated her dedication, if nothing else. As she rounded the corner and spotted the silhouette at the doors, she smirked with the satisfaction that it had finally been worth something.
“Well good morning, little one!” Viola called out from several feet away, approaching at a relaxed pace. The figure turned to her, and she could immediately tell that the man had not come here for light reasons. The first thing she noticed was his strange appearance – he was wearing fashion that could only be described as capitalist. A glittering dark red suit, complete with polished black shoes that shined in the morning light. Blonde hair trimmed short, with black rimmed glasses adorning his face. He wore two bulky watches made out of gold, one on each wrist. As she got closer, she could make out that literally every finger he had was covered in rings of all colored gemstones. It went against her understandings of terrans – they needed their fingers to interface with most things, yet the amount of oversized rings must make it very difficult to move them at all. What is this? I thought we had processed all of the so-called ruling class weeks ago when the treaty was signed. She also noticed his facial expression – his mouth was set in a grim, hard line across his face, as if he were preparing for something unpleasant.
He sized her up and waited for her to reach conversational distance before speaking. “Good morning, ma’am.” Guarded. A silence hung in the air as the two stood outside of the Center. Before she could ask what had brought him here, he spoke again, hurried this time, like he was scared of something. “I don’t know how to be happy.”
Before he could even take a breath, Viola had scooped him up, swallowing him in a soft bed of flowers. Getting more details wasn’t important in the face of such a blatant cry for help. “Shh, shhh. It’s okay. Shh, let’s get you inside, okay?” He was trembling in the way that terrans did when they were overwhelmed with emotion. She spared a vine to get the doors unlocked (we should really just have someone here at night anyways) as she practically floated through the doorway.
The lobby was huge. The seating/waiting area was full of comfy furniture. Big, comfy couches that terrans could sink into, bean bag chairs, a couple fancy massage chairs, and other things that florets and independents alike seemed to find comfortable. Most furniture was appropriately sized – some did lean bigger, and there were some couches that were large enough for an affini and a floret to share. Viola moved towards one of these couches. There were also miscellaneous devices laid around the room – bizarre Terran inventions meant to provide idle amusement. Viola had seen many a floret enjoy the one that involved moving colorful beads along tracks of matching colors, but she didn’t think it would be helpful right now. She positioned herself on one of the largest, softest couches. She could feel the terran settling, so she gently withdrew him from her flowers and set him down.
“What is all of this, dear? Why did you choose to dress as your oppressors did?” Her tone was comforting, and she continued to stroke the terran’s back.
“I, I thought the compiler could make anything. So, I… I made everything. All of the things that I was climbing for, all of the things that I was never supposed to have. I’ve always wanted to be rich. To have anything I could ever want. But now I can, and… I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what I even want. It’s all worthless. It always was.” He had started crying. Viola reached a vine out to gently brush the tears away (moving very slowly to avoid accidentally touching his sensitive eyes!), and he quickly raised a hand up to stop her. In fact, with how his hand stopped just short of her vine, he might have even been trying to slap it away. He instead rose unsteadily. “I- I don’t know. This was stupid.” He started moving for the doors. Fear and regret of having said too much, having been vulnerable for once in his life. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I thought- “
A vine snapped out with alarming speed and wrapped around his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.
“-you could do.” He looked at her fearfully, an expression that pained her more than any other.
“It’s okay, petal. You were so brave today, coming here and waiting for me. We will take care of everything.” With a tiny thorn, she injected Class Zs into his wrist and rose to catch his sleeping body.
…I should have asked for his name sooner. I suppose there wasn’t a good time. She went through his pockets, fishing for any identifying information on his person. She found a wallet full of cards and photos – one of them was an old Terran ID card, scuffed at the edges. She was scanning for a name, but it was hard to ignore how miserable he looked in the accompanying photo. Marcus Gretzsky. Goodness, he’s almost half the age I thought he was. She filed a mental note while looking down at his sleeping form. He was still dressed in a way that would cause many terrans to react with hostility. Let’s put you in one of the back rooms for now.
Viola completed the paperwork needed to both log this case and to put an independent into a therapy program for capitalism-induced trauma. I’m increasingly convinced that every terran in the system would benefit from therapy, but half of them think that even asking for a counseling session would get them domesticated. She sighed, never sure how to address the problem of a fearful society. She was proud of herself for resolving this situation on her own – she couldn’t wait to tell everyone that she’d already helped an independent before any of them had even shown up.
The next hour of the morning proceeded quietly. Before long, a dispatched affini therapist had arrived to retrieve Marcus’s sleeping body to transport him to the clinic where she worked. It was so nearby that it might as well have just been attached to the center, but Viola saw the wisdom in deliberately not pairing mental health resources with domestication. But aside from that, it was a peaceful morning like usual. This was another reason why Viola favored coming in this early – she often had the office to herself for the first hour if not two hours of her day. A nice block of time to read, brush up on current events, introspect, or perform other solo activities.
Today’s morning was spent brushing up on a particular interest of hers: just this morning, the BXWC released a report on their efforts to increase voluntary domestication. Some affini found these reports boring and predictable, but Viola loved reading up about it and then trying to identify the manifestation of the results in the volunteers that she saw. Let’s see…
FLORNOGRAPHY DETERMINED MOST SUCCESSFUL METHOD OF ENCOURAGING VOLUNTARY DOMESTICATION IN TERRANS
Viola sighed. Everbloom, these terrans have got to be the horniest xenosophonts in the known universe. She read the data – charts and charts of evidence. The gist of it seemed to be that, in the weeks after the signing of the Human Domestication Treaty, independent terrans who spent multiple nights in a row ‘engaging with’ florn, particularly flron that had themes of an affini “breaking” a feral, were increasingly likely to report for voluntary domestication within a short timeframe. When distributing this material, the BXWC was careful to create a false feeling of privacy and anonymity in those seeking it out and engaging with it. It was funny – the original purpose of this was moreso to use it as a means of collecting data on terrans who privately desired domestication but didn’t have the courage to claim it for themselves, such that domestication could eventually be delivered upon them. However, with this success, the BXWC’s experts were considering just producing more florn and letting people think that they were getting away with it.
Viola looked for news on the propaganda method that she had been rooting for – a new show simply called Florets, which was a sort of slice-of-life comedy series centering around the lives of a few florets and their affini owners, frequently emphasizing how cute and happy florets were, how a floret’s problems always go away when they ask the affini for help, and how much florets and affini love each other. It was a cute and happy show that she’d enjoyed watching with her florets. Or, at least, watching her florets watch. It was a little simple for her. Unfortunately, her predictions of its success were accurate: while the show was popular among florets, independent terran viewership was quite low. Online discussion around the show’s early episodes also likely contributed to the effect, as it became apparent to all that the only people actually watching the episodes were affini and, of course, their florets. (It was, however, noted that in the cases where a floret convinced an independent friend to watch Florets with them, it did often have a positive effect.) BXWC researchers are in discussions to determine why this failure to reach the target demographic occurred, especially when measuring the data on what propaganda did succeed in reaching its audience. The report contained no mention of whether or not Florets would continue to be produced, but given that producing these types of shows were usually considered enrichment for the cast and crew, she wouldn’t be surprised if it or similar material would continue to be produced either way.
The door swinging open disturbed her from her reading. “Hello, Viola! Anything interesting this morning?” The affini that had walked in was Viola’s coworker and mentor, Olna Leafcoat, Fifth Bloom. Olna’s orange and yellow form could be best described as a rotund pile of leaves with a head coming out of the top. She rustled when she walked. In comparison, Viola’s form was taller and skinnier, her flowery dress primarily shades of red and purple, fanning out from her in a bell shape. Tailing behind Olna was her floret, Sally Leafcoat, Fourth Floret, giving Viola a friendly wave. She was a cute, dark skinned girl with glasses and long hair, braided with orange and yellow flowers. Viola was no longer surprised by her presence – at this point, it’d be more unusual for her to not be here.
Viola gestured at her comm. “The Bureau’s discovered that terrans are all perverts.” That got a laugh out of Olna, who not-so-subtle-y poked Sally in the backside. She blushed, which was a cute display from a floret who’s usually more composed.
Viola was still somewhat mixed on people bringing their florets to work. It wasn’t that Viola didn’t think that florets should work, ever. Sally was quite helpful, actually, both for paperwork and for talking with some types of terrans. It’s just that every time Olna did this, it made Viola question whether or not she was being overly paranoid for insisting that her florets not come with her. It’s not like I’m trying to get away from them… It’s just, stuff like this morning, I wouldn’t have known what to do while one of them was here.
Olna had kept walking, rolling over the desk with Sally held above her in a familiar position. “Oh, right, Olna, I have something else of note.” Olna looked at her curiously while setting Sally down. “We actually had an independent here this morning!”
“Really? What had them out of bed so early?”
“They needed therapy, is what I determined. I’m glad I was here – they were standing outside when I arrived, even.”
“That’s good. Did you take care of all the paperwork?”
“Yep!” She gestured towards the terminal – Marcus’s entry was still left on screen. Olna looked at it and nodded approvingly.
“Excellent work. I’m glad you were here to help him, Viola.” Viola fluttered at the praise – she had a lot of respect for Olna.
“Oh, right! Olna, I had an idea last night and I wanted to hear your thoughts.” Olna looked at her and nodded – her way of prompting her to continue. Sally also looked at her attentively. “I was thinking, what if we organized some sort of event to get the terrans and affini to socialize more? I was thinking something like a cooking contest, or a speed dating thing, or…” Olna was nodding, and Viola could see Sally’s little gears working as well. Viola felt a pang of guilt for thinking of Sally’s gears as ‘little’. She did make cute faces when she was thinking, though.
“I like the idea, Viola, but I think the problem you’re going to run into is the same problem we run into with all of our efforts to make our races intermingle – most terrans are avoidant of locations that are frequented, or even built by, affini. It’s not by accident that many of them prefer to gather in their older buildings with smaller doorways and lower ceilings. What sort of bait do you propose?”
“I… I don’t know. I guess I’ll have to think on it.”
Sally spoke up. “I think the best way to get independents to talk with affini is actually through their florets.” Olna turned to her with keen interest, and she got a little more nervous. “Uh, first, it lets them see that there are behavior differences in florets. A lot of the ones I meet are surprised to learn that I’m a floret, so, it’s kind of a challenge to their prejudices about us all being mindless or whatever. Um, and then, the florets can be the ones who invite people to do things and then their affini can be at those things once the independents have already arrived.” She nodded to herself.
Olna turned to her encouragingly. “Why, that’s an excellent idea, dear! Why don’t you and Viola cooperate on this – it can be a little ‘pet project’ of yours.” Sally giggled.
Viola wasn’t blind to the fact that she’d just lost a significant degree of control over her project and the direction it was going in, but she couldn’t deny that Sally’s idea had a lot of merit. Before Viola could respond back, the door opened. My, this might be a busier day than usual.
Viola had a hard time reading this arrival. They shuffled in as if they were here to do something illicit, but they were also shuffling directly towards the reception desk. Her desk, specifically. They were dressed strangely, too – she could tell they weren’t a floret, or at least weren’t collared, but they were dressed in the sort of flowery companion dress that an affini would typically bestow upon a floret as a gift. Free Terranist with a poor disguise? She felt protective of Sally – they weren’t walking straight towards her station, but she was the only one in this room truly in danger. She whispered to Olna. <Trouble. Get the little one away?> Olna’s rustling shrug communicated the opinion that she was being overly cautious, but she still got Sally to come with her to “check the mail for anything new”. Viola turned her attention back to the terran.
They were looking at her strangely. As much as Viola hated it, most terrans walked in with some amount of fear in their eyes. They were here for some business like removing a block on their compiler or fixing their internet, yet they looked at her like she was going to yank them over the counter for saying the wrong words. Others looked at her with contempt – most tried to hide it, but the Class-Ds in the air even encouraged some to start unplanned arguments with her. But this one… they just looked hungry, almost? Eyes scanning her up and down, an increase in breathing rate… Oh. They spoke before she did.
“P-please domesticate me.”
Oh! Every flower on her body bloomed with joy. “Why, nothing would make me happier!” She fished a Confirmation of Voluntary Domestication form out from a nearby drawer. “Please fill this out with your name, pronouns, and your address. Then, read through the form and check all of these boxes. Let me know if you need any help, dear~.” Some independents preferred to take the form to a chair and read it over, but this one just checked every box in a row and turned it back to her with an overly eager smile. Adorable.
“Now, petal, that’s all we really need from you today. But, if you’d like to answer some questions to help make your domestication into a smoother process, we can hold a little interview. Shouldn’t take more than half an hour.”
“Like, making sure I get matched with someone that’s right for me?”
“It can help!” He nodded several times in a row. It’s shocking that this one wasn’t here sooner, really. He must’ve had some sort of awakening. “Alright petal, follow me to one of our special interview rooms. Would you like a snack? A drink?”
“…Is it true that you guys have cookies?”
“We do indeed!” It wasn’t exactly true, but the compiler would make it true within a matter of seconds. They had started walking around towards the back, their conversation loud enough for Olna and Sally to hear – hopefully Olna would get the hint that things were fine after all. Viola felt embarrassed for her false alarm, but the situation had worked out well enough for her to consider it negligible. She shuffled him into one of the interview rooms. These rooms were smaller and more intimate – there were two couches, one large one meant for affini and one smaller one meant for terrans. The affini couch had a monitor facing it, meant to be used to search systems for personal records. The room had a shelf full of the sorts of small devices that some terrans liked to watch and fidget with – colorful cubes, some sort of spinning toy, a lava lamp, and so on. There was also a mini fridge with water and flavorful, affini-made drinks that were meant to resemble and taste like terran-made drinks (with healthier components, of course). The room also had a higher concentration of class Ds than the lobby and a small amount of class Es circulating through the air – the class Ds made the interviewee more open to questions, and the class Es seemed to prevent them from getting cold feet as more specifics were presented to them. Viola read the man’s information while she got situated. Michael Crank. He seemed less nervous than when he had walked in, and had started sinking into the couch.
Her first question was, admittedly, not strictly a part of the typical list of questions, but it was one she enjoyed opening with all the same. “So, Michael, what made you want to be domesticated?” He started blushing, which was the sort of reaction she found the most amusing.
“Ah, well. Um.” He avoided eye contact. “There were some, uh, videos. That I saw. With, um… Do I have to a-answer this?”
“Not at all, not if it would make you uncomfortable. Though, if we had knowledge of which videos… it might help us find the sort of partnership you’d enjoy. Perhaps we could consult your Hab AI if you don’t wish to discuss it yourself?”
The width of his eyes belied that he had very much not considered that such a thing would be a possibility. Really, it would be just as easy for her to look up the information right now, but she didn’t need to do that to know that he was one of the data points from her morning’s reading. She wrote “(Likely) Wants Feralbreaking Roleplay” in the interviewer assessment section. After a moment, he nodded stiffly, eyes facing the ground.
The rest of the interview proceeded smoothly enough – no pinnates, no Notices of Intent filed on him. Sally delivered cookies for both her and him.
“Do you have a preference in the number of owners you wish to have?” She asked the question with her best formal-interview voice, but took a perverse joy in seeing how it always stunned people.
“Wh- what?”
“I asked if you had a preference in the number of owners you wish to have.”
“N-no? I mean… wait, I can just have multiple?”
“If there are any affini willing to share. Plenty are, though you might find yourself drowning in attention.”
“I. Huh. Yeah, I guess!”
“…You mean, ‘yeah’ as in you want multiple, or ‘yeah’ as in you have a preference?”
“Y-yes, I want multiple. Multiple owners for this guy, please.” He nodded to himself, embarrassed.
“Okay, Michael! You’ll meet your new owners in three days, if not less.” She slowly started rising from her couch, knowing that this is how terrans typically communicate the end of such discussions. He rose as well. His eyes belied that he was already imagining the possibilities. “You’ve been so brave for coming in today. Here!” Viola fetched a candy bar from a nearby tray.
“Oh! Well, thank you.”
She lead him out to the lobby. By the time she arrived, there was a more steady presence of people, at least enough for some of the front lobby’s furniture to be in use while people waited. Sally and Olna were both handling lines. Kesserin had also arrived – Kesserin Point, First Bloom. He was one of the tallest affini that Viola had ever seen, and he was also quite thin. He was largely comprised of wheat, straw, and other reedy plants, with wooden rings and trunks providing a sort of structure to them. Terrans struggled to make out his facial features, and often found him unnerving despite his calm nature. He usually processed paperwork and handled the occasional straightforward interview – people skills weren’t really his forte, but he was their resident expert when it came to the finer details of the Compact’s bureaucracy. If he was working reception, they must have been quite swamped indeed. Viola swapped out with him as he whispered a brief greeting and thanks.
“I can take whoever’s next!” She surveyed the lounge furniture – there was an embarrassed looking terran in a strange black and white dress having their picture taken, there was a girl looking somewhat frozen in her own thoughts, an arguing couple, and, approaching her now was… a floret! A cute little blonde one with dog ears, walking up with a shy look in her eyes.
“Hello, little petal! Do you need something? Where’s your owner?”
“Um, s-she’s reblooming.”
“Oh!” Reblooming, and you didn’t have the forethought to leave your floret under anyone’s care? Hmph! Viola tried to hide her indignation – she wouldn’t want to scare the poor thing. “Do you know how much longer she’ll be reblooming for?”
“She said it would only take a couple hours.” …Okay, that’s not very long, but still.
“Okay. Well, you can stay here with us while you wait for her. Do you need anything right now?” She looked shy for a moment before she spoke up in a whisper. Viola had to lean in to hear the little one’s voice.
“…cuddles…”
“Aww, you’re precious. Right away!” Viola scooped the girl up, hearing her let out a wheee! as she was lifted over the desk. She pulled her in and held her against the soft flowers that made a bed of her chest. Silly thing, she could have walked outside and asked the first affini she saw. Lucky me! Viola took a brief moment to read the name on her collar – Lily Straxin, First Bloom - and then sent a message to her owner explaining her whereabouts. The girl had gotten situated quickly, already breathing comfortably with her eyes closed. This one really is just a little lapdog. Unfortunately, Viola had to keep working, but she spared an idle vine to gently stroke the girl’s hair. “Next!”
The arguing couple from before approached. Viola started to make out their argument. One of the women was dressed conservatively, a fairly generic looking brunette. She was telling the other one, “Well why don’t you just ask her what she thinks instead running through these endless hypotheticals?” The woman she was speaking to was much more eye catching in her makeup and fashion choices – extremely dark clothing, neon purple hair, black eyeshadow forming a dark, thick outline around her eyes. …Did I misread their relationship?
She responded to the other woman, saying “Sure, what’s the harm! You dragging me here already put me on the list, might as well make a day out of it.” Bitterness hiding something deeper.
Viola tried to peacefully insert herself into their conversation. “Good morning. I’m Viola Flosarvum, First Bloom. Can I help mediate in your disagreement?”
The colorful one spoke to her companion. “Look, Mary, it’s take your pet to work day.” She joked with that same bitterness, though it wasn’t actually clear who she was upset with at this point.
“Skylar, you have to be nice about this, okay?” Mary spoke with real concern. “They can help you, but if you come in here like that, they’ll-”
“-Take me away, like how you want them to?”
“Hey, what the fuck are you talking about, Sky?” An increase in volume drew the attention of others throughout the lobby. Even the pet in her Viola’s lap stirred. She needed to get this under control.
“Excuse me! This is a public building – please behave with respect for those who are here, and speak in a calm, polite manner.” She didn’t need to state what would happen otherwise. The two obviously had things they wanted to say to each other, but they knew better than to continue their argument now. Viola turned towards the brown haired one – Mary. “One at a time, now - please state your business here today.” Viola began subtly exuding Class Es into the nearby air, adding more on top of the ones already circulating through the Center. Overtly drugging them would likely cause further agitation, but this should at least lighten the tension after a minute. The others in the room turned their attention back to what they had been doing before.
Mary took a breath before continuing. “I am concerned about the health of my partner, Skylar. She obsesses over her art – I can’t convince her to eat more than once a day, or sleep more than a few hours. She’s burning herself out and I hate watching it.” Viola was seeing signs of anger in the other one, so she turned her attention to her as a cue to speak.
“I’m an artist. I can finally make art. Real art, and not have it litigated into a fucking bonfire by the corporations who have already generated a lookalike. Art that I can sell- or, show, without punishment. But-” She cut herself off, and might have even bitten her own tongue. She’s afraid of us stopping that, for some reason.
Mary clearly wanted to respond, but Viola needed to keep control to prevent a second outburst. “Okay, let me state my understanding: Skylar wants to make art more than anything else. Her desire to create art has interfered with her ability to take care of herself. Mary is asking for our help in resolving this.” Mary nodded in agreement. Skylar seethed but didn’t seek to correct anything. “Do you both live together, then?” They both nodded. Viola nodded in response. “I can see some paths forward, but I want to confirm three assumptions beforehand. First: Skylar, you do not want to be domesticated.” Skylar eyed her warily, as if suspecting a trap. Yes, then. “Second: Skylar, you believe that being domesticated involves being separated from your romantic partner, Mary.” Skylar nodded. Mary looked shocked. “Third: Mary, you were not aware of this misunderstanding.”
“Well – no, I wasn’t! Sky, we know florets who are dating!”
Skylar’s anger was fading, revealing sadness beneath. “Yeah, but they got domesticated together. You only want to get me domesticated. You – you don’t need help, Mary, not like I do. Never like I do.” Memories, tinged with regret. Mary obviously wanted to respond, but Viola wanted to retain control.
“If I could interject – while unconventional, pinnate status is by no means exclusive to pairs of florets. If separating you from anyone would induce emotional distress, it would be considered unethical for us to do so, and it would violate §57 of the Human Domestication Treaty.” They stared at her blankly. “…What I mean to say is, regardless of Mary’s or Skylar’s domestication status, we would prioritize your ability to remain in your romantic relationship.” She retrieved the Confirmation of Voluntary Domestication form and also retrieved the optional accompaniment form, Application For Pinnate Status, placing both in front of them. There was a grave look in their eyes. “This is, of course, in the event that Skylar is domesticated.” They looked back up at her with hope and intrigue.
“If your concern is the recovery of Skylar’s health after a period of self-harm, we could put Skylar under a wardship. A wardship is a period of time in which an affini will temporarily care for an independent xenosophont, monitoring and assisting with their recovery from whatever ailed them. The warden would have the full right to make decisions about your wardship, including when it ends and how it ends. This would also, of course, require discussion and potential therapy to establish why Skylar had been pushing herself to such extents, followed by the creation and implementation of a plan to assist in forming healthier long-term habits for balancing her health and her passions.” She fished out an Application For Wardship (Mental Health & Self Care) form and placed it on the desk, with a gap separating it from the domestication forms to signify it being a separate path. They both looked overwhelmed. Poor things. “…If you want my suggestion, the wardship would be a much more temporary arrangement.” Viola wasn’t sure why she said that. She was uncomfortably aware of the fact that many affini, including the nearby Olna, would frown upon any action that would dissuade an independent xenosophont from choosing domestication.
Viola watched as Mary and Skylar had a quiet discussion, as Skylar pointed to text in the wardship form. Mary’s eyes followed Skylar’s finger as she nodded to communicate that she was listening, but Viola could see how Mary’s eyes kept glancing away from the paper and towards the floret in her lap. Viola waited patiently.
“Wait, I – I change my mind! I CHANGE MY MIND!” A scene by Sally’s counter. Sally was tightly gripping a form with many checked boxes while a sweating terran gripped the other half in her hand, pulling. Sally looked petrified, gripping and creasing the paper out of instinct. From several meters away, Olna quickly stretched out a vine and held a leaf up against the panicking terran’s mouth. She slumped to the ground within seconds. Still shaken, Sally was whisked away by Olna.
Mary and Skylar had also been shaken by this, especially Mary. Skylar walked up to the counter with Mary behind her. “I don’t expect a no, but am I required to pick one of these options?”
“Yes. The information I have received has made it clear that you are not currently capable of taking care of yourself, and your partner has already indicated that she is unable to do this herself. The Affini Compact will not-“
“Yeah yeah, I get it. I’ll do the wardship.”
“Excellent.” Viola started up the familiar speech of what would happen next. While she did, she watched as Kesserin stepped out from the back halls and began to approach the sleeping body of the subdued terran. He stood before it for a moment – from his body language, Viola realized with some distress that he had, apparently, never picked up a prone terran before. Almost everyone in the room watched, transfixed with silent, abject horror as he simply strode atop the body and appeared to absorb it within himself. Terrans in the room watched, mouths agape, as their worst fears of the affini manifested before their eyes. Kesserin’s body began to ripple vertically, moving the body upwards in waves. Multiple seconds had passed before he produced the body again, this time held aloft by his arms. He was mortified as he carried it away, though only Viola could tell.
The couple had thankfully not noticed that scene and had instead finished signing the paperwork. “Wonderful! Please return to your home – your case worker should visit you before the end of the day.” Mary squeezed Skylar’s hand as they walked off towards the center’s double doors. “Next!” Olna and a calmer Sally had returned to their positions. Glad that didn’t take long. At a time like this, Viola would typically rise to take a break, but the weight on her lap made this seem an unwise prospect. “Next!”
A conservatively dressed androgynous looking human approached the counter. Before Viola could speak, they began. “Hello. My name is Alex Gwynevere. I am here to volunteer for domestication. Please use my internet history and other surveillance tools to determine a suitable owner. Thank you.” She handed an already completed Confirmation of Voluntary Domestication form and walked away before Viola could say anything. …Adorable. Viola processed the paperwork – it was all up to date and otherwise official.
“Next!” An older terran woman, maybe fifty years old? A notably high number, despite data indicating that terrans are capable of surviving much longer even without an implant. Viola pitied her for having to live as long as she did under the Accord. Understandably, the woman had a sunken look in her eyes, tinged with bitterness. Viola usually assumed that this type resented the Affini.
“I’m looking for information about my son. He was in the Naval Infantry. The Stellar Marine Naval Infantry. Adam Hallover. A. D. A. M., H. A. L., L. O. V. E. R.” Her voice sounded almost monotone, as if putting more than the tiniest scrap of emotion into it would cause a dam to burst. Viola searched the database of individuals that the Compact had registered.
No Results Found For “Adam Hallover”
Not ideal, but not the end of the road.
One Results Found For “Hallover”
It was Mary Hallover, the woman in front of her. Not the end of the line. While it was highly suggested that original surnames be preserved for cases exactly like this one, there was a belief among some of the more militant affini that deliberately not preserving the previous surname would cause former Free Terranists to accept florethood more quickly.
3,294,790 Results Found For “Adam”
Worth a try. “Ma’am, do you have any additional details about your son? Things like rank, ship, deployment location? Homeworld, even?” The woman’s eyes lowered at this development. She suddenly looked very small, standing alone against the face of uncertainty.
“Homeworld is here, Nexway. He’d just joined a few months ago, the damn fool. Got fired from his job and thought this’d make things better for us.” She took a breath. “He was on a cruiser and assured me that he wouldn’t be on the front lines. I don’t know more about the ship, and I don’t even know how he could promise that. You’re not finding anything, are you?”
She didn’t want to confirm or deny anything yet. She adjusted her search to go through the database that the Accord had left the Compact – usually unnecessary, but maybe they have something.
One Result for Adam Hallover With Criteria “Homeworld: Nexway”
Good. A grim face, tragically young, stared back at her through the monitor. From his page she was able to determine a good deal of information, most critically the ship that he was assigned to: Light Cruiser Z6493 “Sage”. From there… She switched back over to the Compact’s database. The Compact maintained a list of known Terran Cosmic Navy ships with the goal of monitoring which ones were missing, where they were last seen, where intelligence indicated that they could be found, and so on. She could feel the floret in her lap stirring in response to the speed at which she was typing. She found Z6493…
Cruiser Z6493: Neutralized February 2554
She stopped typing for a moment. That was months ago by now. She queried all information she could find about the ship, focusing on the status of its crew members. At first glance, it was a fairly standard report – all members of the crew domesticated within a matter of days after initial capture, now living happily as florets. The woman was fidgeting – by now, anyone could tell that Viola had found something, but the longer this took, the more it felt like whatever she found wouldn’t be good.
The unfortunate development was that Adam Hallover was not among the recorded crew. Viola had heard that the Compact hadn’t managed to save every terran – mistakes occurred, usually when an affini underestimates how much of an affect the terrans’ fear can have on their decision making. Hostage gambits, ejections of those believed to be sympathizers, risky weapon development; there were horror stories if you knew where to look. But these losses were ultimately rare – when one occurred, it was a tragedy that the Affini vowed to prevent from happening again.
While Viola was familiar with the idea that not every terran made it, this was the first time she had to confront it herself. The woman standing in front of her looked up at her with hollow eyes that had already accepted the death long ago. Viola couldn’t meet them. Out of avoidance, she kept looking through the crew list, obsessively opening up each profile she could find, anxiety building as she ran out of room to deny what happened.
She opened up one of them and recognized a face staring back at her. She was surprised that she did – the name was different, the face was different, just similar in barely noticeable ways. But it was… him? Oh, I see now. Relief flooded through Viola. “Adam” was not the floret’s name, so of course it wasn’t in the floret’s record. The floret’s name was Ally Rose, First Floret.
“I have good news!” The woman looked up, more frightened now than she’d been throughout the entire conversation. “Your child is alive. They are on an Affini warship, and were rescued from the Accord in February.” Before Viola had finished, the woman had started leaning on the desk, placing her head in her hands. Quiet sobbing. Viola paused. Should I say more?
“Where is he? Is he being fed? Is he a prisoner?” “Will you let us see each other?” Viola raised a vine to tell her to slow down.
“Like most members of the Navy, your child has been domesticated. I will communicate with the affini responsible for their care to coordinate an opportunity for the two of you to be reunited.” Well, maybe I shouldn’t promise that. The awkward part of this situation was that Ally had more protections under the Treaty than her parent did – if it was deemed by either Ally or Ally’s owner that this reunion would be harmful, then it likely would not be allowed to occur. Viola determined one thing she could do to test the waters. “Your child has also undergone some changes that might surprise you.”
“…What did you do to him?” Her gritted teeth failed to muffle the anger, the fear in her voice. Why are you more upset now than when you thought she was dead?
“Well, I was not personally involved. But it seems as if, going through the information we have logged, your child has taken advantage of the Affini Compact’s many resources to modify her body’s physical characteristics.” Wide eyed bewilderment. “If it’s any consolation, this is actually a fairly common scenario. It typically occurs when a floret has already gone through life feeling that their body does not align with-“
“Don’t call him a fucking floret!” She looked away from Viola, down at the pet snoozing in Viola’s lap. Incandescent rage. She looked back up, pointing a crooked finger at Viola. “I didn’t bring a son into this world so that you fucking weeds could take him and-“
The woman’s tantrum was cut short as Viola buried her face in a flower. Support vines, already in position, caught her before she could slam against the floor. Well, I suppose it will be some time before they can be reunited. Though I suppose their owners may not consider it worth reuniting them at all.
The floret in her lap lazily looked up at her. “What was her problem?”
“I wish I could understand that myself, little one.” That’s our second sedation within the last hour. At this rate, we’ll have to call in additional support to store the bodies. She stroked the floret’s hair while she thought. I had hoped things would become more peaceful after the treaty’s signing. Now I’m not sure that will ever happen. After the initial wave of volunteers, things have slowed – you have occasional epiphanies, sure, but now most of our requests are people who need something from us who would otherwise prefer to never interact with us. It’s almost been harder, in that way.
“Miss, are you okay?” The poor thing was looking up at her – this was the last thing Viola wanted.
“Yes, dear, of course.” She gave her more pets, grounding herself again.
An affini came through the doors and approached the counter directly, not waiting to be called. Something about this affini made it look simply effervescent with life. Viola had never seen one that looked so radiant, so… fresh.
“Hello. I have received a message indicating… oh, well look at you!” Her voice immediately took on a more gentle, praising quality as she looked down towards Viola’s lap. The floret in her lap started stirring before she started scrambling onto the counter. “I was worried you wouldn’t recognize me, puppy, but I guess that was silly of me, wasn’t it? Yes, you’re so smart!” She picked her up and nuzzled her face against the happy girl before turning back to Viola. “I apologize for her visit; I should’ve known better than to assume she would wait around without anyone nearby to snuggle with. Did she give you any trouble?”
“No, none at all. She was just the cutest little thing, really. It was a pleasure having her with me this morning.”
She turned her attention back to the floret in her arms. “Oh, good girl! Yes, very good girl! Let’s get you home for a little reward, hm?” She giggled at the floret’s overexcited reaction as she turned and carried her out of the center’s double doors. Viola watched as they left. …Should I be showing that level of affection to my own florets? Viola felt vaguely guilty. She knew that every relationship was unique, and that she was very affectionate towards her florets in her own way. But it was hard to reconcile that with the fact that she couldn’t ever imagine herself displaying that level of affection on a day to day basis.
“Viola, are you feeling alright?” Olna looked at her from the next desk over.
“Uh, yes, ma’am, I just… I think I’ll take my break now, if that’s okay.”
“Certainly. Take your time.”
Viola always felt a little bad for taking her mandatory rest break, especially given that some of her morning was already filled with idle time. However, she knew that not taking hers would cause everyone else to stop doing it, which would be harmful to all she worked with. She was loosely aware that needing such a bout of mental gymnastics to justify the slightest self-care was something she should work on.
Kesserin was already in the lounge that they called the break room, the bundled straw making up his form having spread out into a wider base. “Good afternoon, Viola. I apologize for that disastrous attempt at cleanup – I hope the masses weren’t too frightened.”
“It’s fine – it’s not as if anyone fled the lobby. How have things been on your end today?”
“Nothing unusual today – you’ll have to fill me in on the details of the two pacifications today when you have a moment.” She moved to fetch paperwork, but he raised a stalk to block her. “Not now – this room is for rest, after all.”
With no conversation to fill the air, a silence fell over the room. Viola had to confess that despite considering herself to be fairly social, she had no idea of what things to discuss with Kesserin. These spare moments were the only times she ever really spoke with him. Typical affini socializing rituals would involve discussing each other’s florets – sharing amusing anecdotes, recent developments, photos, things like that. Viola had heard from Olna, the gossip she was, that Kesserin had no florets. Everyone had their preferences, but Viola couldn’t imagine what she’d do with her spare time if she had no florets to care for. While she took pride in her work of furthering the Domestication every day, her personal fulfillment and her reason to rise each morning came from the mutual love between her and her florets.
Kesserin was either bored or lost in thought. Viola didn’t like this kind of silence.
“You know, Lacey – my second – she said the funniest thing the other day.” Kesserin turned his head back in her direction to listen. “She said she wanted to ride a horse – apparently some ancient fantasy novel she found mentioned characters doing it. Could you imagine? I don’t know how she’d ever get on top of one, even with my help!”
Kesserin seemed more intrigued than amused. “I don’t think it would be that difficult, really. Some horses are small, at least when they’re young. Or so I’ve heard.” A silence fell again, Viola’s joke not having landed.
“Do your florets ever say things like that?”
“I don’t have any florets, Viola. Did you not know?” His question was innocuous, but its directness made her feel defensive.
“…I just – I didn’t, no. Sorry.”
“It is not a sore subject.” He seemed satisfied with the conversation ending there.
“…Can I ask why? You’re the only affini I really know in this region who doesn’t have any.”
“Certainly, if you’re that curious about me. It’s rather simple. I have processed many voluntary domestication forms, and I’ve observed a pattern that there are roughly two types of terrans willing to be domesticated, divided by what they seek. The first seeks excitement – they want an affini who makes their hormones pump, who’s dynamic with them feels fraught with danger yet safety. You processed one of these today, I believe. It mystifies me, but from the reading I’ve done I’ve read that something in terran psychology, or perhaps physiology is more accurate, that causes their brains to confuse the emotions of fear and arousal. That can sometimes cause fear and romantic attraction, as well as similar things, to be correlated, causing them to paradoxically seek out fear and danger.” He shrugged dismissively. “I find that terrans are frightened of me, as we saw today, but I do not have the nature or the desire to perform in a way that deliberately invokes fear in xenosophonts.” Viola noted that he spoke in an almost clinical tone, as if this was a distant phenomenon that he was not close to.
“The other type is more typical, which is a terran that, after a long life of suffering under the hands of the Accord, simply wishes for a place of safety and comfort. They want an affini that is caring, affectionate, sometimes ‘motherly’. Warm, in a word. And I am not warm.”
Viola was surprised by how forthcoming he was with this information, and tried to process the truth behind what he was saying. “Are you saying that you don’t think any terran would want to be your floret?”
“…I suppose that’s a succinct way of putting it. It’s not as if I’m against the idea, but there are so many others who are much more suited for these roles than I am. And I’m certainly not the sort who’s going to go out and ‘catch my own’ – such aggressive domestication is better left to the more adventurous members of the Compact.” Viola felt pity for him, watching him close each door on himself one after the other. What compels him to do this to himself? She had to say something.
“I don’t think you’d have thought this much about it if you didn’t want a floret of your own, Kesserin.” She didn’t apologize – she believed what she said.
He shrugged dismissively, but it felt more performative than his usual one. “You’re imagining things that I didn’t say.” Again, he wasn’t argumentative, he just said it like it was so obvious that it was redundant to say it out loud. “Either way, I think my break has gone on long enough. Thank you for the conversation, Viola.” He rose, pulling his reeds back together into a more confined shape.
“Okay, I’m sorry if I pried.” She paused. “I don’t think Sally is scared of you.”
“Not after a while, no.” His long, thin stalks carried him out of the room.
The afternoons at the Domestication Center were typically more mundane than the mornings. Something that Viola had observed was that voluntary domestications and other matters that terrans considered significant were typically done in the early hours of the day. Something about wanting to get big things out of the way, she supposed. That left the afternoon for more ordinary requests from independent terrans who simply needed the Compact’s assistance with something. It was typically things like requesting the approval to compile cooking tools, the ability to access potentially upsetting information unsupervised, a request for offworld travel, etc.
The last couple of days had been more interesting. Viola had noticed what appeared to be an organized effort from a number of independent terrans who had been living on this planet before the Affini arrived. The scheme was relatively simple. A number of terrans would walk into the Center one after the other. Not armed, not even aggressive, simply walking in like any other xenosophont would. Rather than take a seat and wait in comfort while the lines cleared up, they would all wait and stand in the lines at the same time. This sort of mass arrival would create a blockage of sorts, making it take longer for the other xenosophonts to be seen, and discourage some xenosophonts from deciding to wait at all. Then they would put forward the same request. The most eloquently worded instance went like this:
“Under the Terran Accord, our race has become accustomed to viewing surveillance as a danger – everything about us, from our private conversations to our meal choices to the clothes in our closets, was collected and sold to be used against us. While the surveillance provided by our Habitation AIs does not serve corporate interests, its presence is much more obvious and therefore still quite upsetting to me. The Hab AI causes increased anxiety, difficulty sleeping, difficulty feeling relaxed or safe in my home, and more. For the purpose of living in a more comfortable environment without these stressors, I would like to request either the removal of my Hab AI or relocation to housing that does not have one.”
Most were not as eloquent, but the gist was the same. What puzzled Viola was this: the basis of this argument was to appeal to the Affini Compact’s benevolence. So, the ten to fifteen people coming in and making the argument every day already understood on some level that the Compact was benevolent. Why do they move so aggressively, then? If we thought that their request would improve their lives, we would grant it as quickly as we could. Where is the misunderstanding?
Olna had already expressed her thoughts on it – “I imagine they’re being led by a feralist who may or may not have shown their face among them by now. The best way to handle them is to just cite their anxieties while filling out the paperwork for a wellness check. That will remove the arms of the organizer, and from there we can ask the new florets if they have any other friends who need help with this ‘fear’.”
At times, Viola was unnerved by Olna’s pragmatic disregard for the rights and feelings of independent xenosophonts. Olna’s florets were all feralists she’d handled herself – as hard as it was to imagine, even Sally was once a Free Terranist. Their introduction was when Olna had caught her scoping out the Domestication Center with extremely malicious intent, to say the least. You would never guess that looking at Sally now, of course, lending credence to Olna’s familiar argument that there’s no such thing as a xenosophont who would be happier as an independent.
In comparison to Olna, Viola was much more sympathetic to these independents – her own florets, both volunteers she took in herself during her first week here, had also expressed uneasiness towards the Hab AI. They’d tried not to worry her, but she’d noticed how early in their time together they always clammed up when the Hab AI helpfully inserted itself into a conversation. Now, of course, they saw the Hab AI as a friendly, helpful arm of the Affini to assist them with any needs they had, but the implant had provided most of the help with that. So, Viola didn’t think this faction was malicious – she didn’t even think they were feralist, which was a more controversial stance – but she wished they’d found a better way to go about this than disrupting the work of the Domestication Center.
Regardless, it was unlikely that the situation would change today. The BXWC had been informed and had so far advised granting the request to one or two of the petitioners, both to draw more people out into the light and to confirm whether or not the first available “minimum surveillance” homes would be used for anything untoward.
One individual, waiting patiently behind the members of this crowd, stood out to her. This man came in wearing a hoodie, sunglasses, and baggy pants. This was extremely unnecessary attire for the weather, and instead drew more attention to him. Up closer, she could see that he had a thin goatee. Before she could greet him, he spoke. “Hi. I want to talk in one of the back rooms.”
Aren’t we a shy one? “Whatever we can do to make you the most comfortable. Follow me!” This was somewhat strange – Viola usually knew the occasion when walking someone back for an interview, and could adjust her demeanor, her small talk, and so on to fit the mood of the occasion. In this case, she simply chose to remain silent until they arrived in the room. Once they were seated, she initiated. “Now, what did you want to talk about?”
“I have a difficult situation that I wish to explain in full.” The man removed his sunglasses, revealing a fairly generic looking man with brown hair, probably in his thirties. He paused, as if reading her expression. “Okay, you don’t recognize me. I guess that’s good. I am a streamer on Scritch. I play video games for an audience. I go by Zell Gaming and have been doing this as a hobby since before your arrival. Since your arrival, my audience has significantly swelled.”
He paused, as if to see if Viola understood. She nodded for him to continue. “Specifically, for some unknown reason, many affini have taken a liking to me. By many I mean thousands. Last time I checked, I have somewhere over three thousand Notices of Intent to Domesticate placed on me.”
I’ve heard theory of cases like this – the theory is that when a xenosophont has too many claims placed upon them, their domestication becomes functionally impossible due to being tangled up in bureaucracy. “If it’s any consolation, Zell, if you ever choose an owner for yourself, your own choice of affini would take priority over any notice placed upon you.”
“I know. I know that, that’s why I’m here. I need to negotiate a domestication that allows me to continue doing what I’m doing while sending a message to my base that the game is over.” Negotiate, he says.
“Well, that will not be as difficult as you seem to expect, petal. Most affini wish to take their florets mostly as they are – the things that you enjoy doing, the things that shape your identity – those are the parts that the affini love the most. The goal is to make you the best version of your desired self.” He scowled at the word petal, but blushed at the directness of the word love.
“Well, okay. They need to be okay with the fact that on a given day there are going to be literally hundreds of affini flirting with me over the internet. They always talk about how I’m a seed, how I’m trying to farm Notices, how – I don’t want to get into it, but there are a lot of affini who are probably going to want to remain in my life regardless of what I say.”
This man had a peculiar way of speaking. She hadn’t noticed it at first, because he still spoke with a casual demeanor, but he was actually very guarded. Speaking evasively seemed to be ingrained into his basic speech patterns. Extreme avoidance of discussing what he actually wanted, or even what his actual feelings on this situation were. Is it a habit formed from time spent performing, or is it something deeper?
Viola decided a more serious dosage of Class Ds was in order. Of course, since an injection often caused distress, a helping of Class Es would also be necessary. Before he could blink, she had sent an injector through his hoodie’s sleeve.
“Hey, the fuck?! You can’t just do that, dude!” There were always a few seconds before the xenodrugs took effect. “What was in that?”
“It was something that makes it easier for reluctant sophonts to tell the truth. I apologize if that startled you, but we find that in the long term it makes it easier to find someone a good match if they are forthcoming with their desires.” He muttered discontent to himself but still nodded. “Now, forgive my ignorance, but I am having a difficult time understanding your position. You said you have a large number of affini that have developed an interest in you. How, exactly, did this audience manifest?”
“How does anyone get famous on the internet? I got lucky, plain and simple. Maybe they think I’m hot or something.” That’s not the full answer.
“Mhm. And when this audience of yours continued to grow, what was your response?”
“I mean, I liked it. I started this as just messing around, but even breaking a hundred people – er, sophonts? Even breaking a hundred feels nice, like you’re getting live feedback that people like you for being… for being you, I guess.”
“And then this development accelerated when the Affini arrived. How did you feel about receiving the bulk of this attention from them?”
“Well, I mean, it was an adjustment, but I like them now.” Viola chose not to speak, letting the silence prod him into elaborating. “The affini are nice. I… I improved a lot about my life, actually, and they gave me a lot of the encouragement to do that. I cleaned my room, for one. They encourage me to do things like drink water – it’s basically impossible to forget stuff like that now, cause they’ll gang up on me if I don’t. I’m just annoyed that they’re always being kind of flirty about it.”
“Flirty?” It was a very standard complaint about Affini culture, but getting him to elaborate here was good.
“Like…” He was blushing now. “Calling me cute. O-or.” He paused, gears turning behind his eyes, deciding not to say whatever he was about to say. “Or saying I’m a pet, or a petal, or whatever else you call your pets.” Silence. “What does this have to do with me finding a partner? I told you, I just want someone amenable to what I’m already doing.” Viola enjoyed watching him try to dodge away from certain subjects. She could be more direct with her questioning if she wanted, but this was fun.
“Why don’t you just list some qualities that you would like a partner to have?” Viola retrieved a Confirmation of Voluntary Domestication form and skipped to the ‘desired traits’ section.
“Respectful. I think that’s the big one – my fear is that this whole thing ends with them deciding that the things I want to do every day are not the things they think I should be doing, and then… well, I would be someone else.”
One layer. “Naturally. We find every xenosophont a perfect match – one assigned to you will already be quite amenable to your hobbies and interests, as you put it. This interview is more about other qualities, such as personality, physical characteristics, style of play, and so on.”
“Uh, I guess the only physical characteristic is that I’d want her to be bigger than me, and I feel like that’s kinda implied.” He tried to play off his embarrassment as Viola helpfully wrote that down. “She has to be nice to me. Like, we can do fun stuff a-and all that, but she has to be nice about it.” His eyes showed some distress as his mouth let the words flow out.
“What sort of ‘fun stuff’ do you refer to, Zell?”
He opened his mouth to speak before violently clamping his hand over it. His eyes looked at her fearfully, then at the closed door. Viola tried to calm him down. “Look at me, petal. It can be embarrassing, but one uncomfortable conversation will allow you to spend the rest of your days in a perfect relationship, where all of your needs are met.” His eyes were still darting around. “Look at me, petal.” She grabbed his chin. “Look at my eyes. There you go.”
“You think I don’t want that?!” Judging from his expression, he had meant to say something else. But in order to say it, he’d had to remove his hand from his mouth. Viola seized the opportunity – Viola’s vines had spread both of his arms wide, in opposite directions. He was breathing quickly, still looking into her eyes.
“I think you do ‘want that’, and this will be the fastest way to learn the truth of it. Now, relax, let go, unwind, relax...” Viola was admittedly not the most experienced with hypnosis, but she seemed to be doing well enough. His eyes were glazing over like how the lessons about terrans said they would. “…Do you want to be with an affini that hypnotizes you like this? Yes or no.”
“Yes.” Hm, there were probably more revealing ways to have asked that.
“Would you consider your interest in hypnosis particularly strong?” He seemed confused. “Does this excite you?”
“Y-yes.” She patted his head and he shivered. She wrote down hypnosis fetish.
“Let’s talk about…”
It was an illuminating interview indeed. Viola ended up needing multiple pages to track all of the desires, ideas, secrets, curiosities, and other thoughts that Zell had been withholding. Every Terran mind was so complicated – it was nice being able to really dive into one. She didn’t normally watch livestreams, but she’d have to keep an eye out for the surprise breaking stream that he’d use to introduce his florethood to the world. She wondered if it would be a surprise to him as well.
There wasn’t much time left in Viola’s shift when she returned to the lobby. This late in the afternoon, it was either xenosophonts who had unhealthy sleep schedules, xenosophonts who had true emergencies, or xenosophonts who had been putting their visit off all day. But they were still here. This one coming up to her now looked visibly distressed, like a caged animal. Viola welcomed her as warmly as possible. “Good afternoon, sweetheart, what’s wrong?”
The black haired girl, a young adult, kept looking over her shoulder, looking at all the plants in the room. “I need to move out. ASAP.” Now that she was closer, Viola noticed that she was catching her breath. She must have ran here.
“What’s going on, dear? Is there some sort of problem with your plumbing?”
She slammed the table. “Don’t fuck with me right now! My roommate keeps trying to pull shit and I’m not safe around her anymore.” There was pain in her voice during that last part. “That’s all you should need to know, f-flower lady.” She looked over her shoulder again, eyeing the door and scanning the lobby furniture.
“I’m afraid I need more than that – for starters, I need your name. If you know your roommate’s name, that would be welcome, but it’s likely in your housing data if you don’t.” Viola sent a vine to wake up the computer and prime it for more queries.
“Anna Reed. That’s my name. My roommate’s name is… Rosemary something. I don’t remember her last name, it’s complicated.”
Anna Reed… She found her information quickly enough. She lived in one of the high rises that the Affini had built within the first week of Nexway’s Domestication – the previous apartment buildings had been far too cramped to be considered habitable, even as small as the terrans were. Her roommate was listed as Rosemary Thistlebloom, Second Bloom. Hm. It would seem that Rosemary had placed a Notice of Intent to Domesticate on Anna within the last twenty four hours.
“Okay, I’ve found you. Before we continue, you seem uncomfortable in this open space. Would you like to talk somewhere more private?”
“…No, that’d take too long. Let’s just go.”
“Certainly. Please describe what specifically Rosemary has done to make you feel unsafe.” Viola figured it was the Notice, which as a healthy part of courtship, would unfortunately not be considered as any sort of threat or sign of hostility.
“What hasn’t she done, is what you should ask. She’s drugging everything in the house – I can’t eat anything in the house anymore – the ingredients are drugged, the fucking compiler puts shit in the food I ask it to make at this point. I only eat at places that she doesn’t seem to know about, and who knows how long that will last. She’s got the fucking bathroom drugged too – my shampoo, my toothpaste, it’s all labeled in shit I can’t read so you know it’s got some shit in it.”
“Okay, you can stop. Take a deep breath, please.” Serious amounts of paranoia here – Viola felt sympathy, but truly, this girl was in severe need of Class Es. Hopefully she’d breathe in the ones that always circulated through the ventilation. “It sounds as if your roommate has taken some aggressive actions-“
“She took all the fucking chairs out and replaced them with big ones-“
“-and these actions have caused you to feel unsafe. You have a legitimate case that your mental health would be improved by not living with her.” The girl’s eyes looked hopeful but suspicious.
“However.” Her eyes narrowed in response. “We have only received one side of the story, and on top of that, your story contains no direct harm, or even threats of such, enacted against you. From your behavior here today, there’s a plausible case that your roommate was, while perhaps misguided, trying to help you without getting the rest of the Compact involved.”
“This is bullshit!“
“So, there will be a hearing where we can receive both sides of the story. It should happen sometime within the next few days. In the meantime, -”
“No, this was a waste of my time. I should’ve known you monsters would’ve never helped me against your own kind. I’m leaving.”
Viola was used to brushing off insults from scared terrans, but something about that one hurt her deeply. It had been weeks since she’d been affected like this. She could have reached out and grabbed her, prevented her from walking away, but she instead sat their uselessly before collecting herself.
“I- We want – Where are you going to stay, then!?” Viola never raised her voice like this. It sounded shrill and uncontrolled, the higher, almost distorted pitch reminding everyone that her words were simply an imitation of terran speech. Everyone was looking at her as Anna turned around.
“Like I’d tell you!” Viola watched as she slammed the doors shut.
Viola just stood there. Would chasing her even help, or would it just reveal us as the monsters she already sees? Olna wasn’t hesitating, she was rolling over the counter and well on her way to the door. “Olna, stop!”
She turned to her with indignation. “Why? How will letting her run away help her?”
“Chasing her into a corner will make her feel worse!”
“This whole thing, all of this, sounds to me like it happened because we kept taking these useless half measures. The woman needs to be domesticated.” She looked like she wanted to say more, but she rolled back over the counter and got onto her communicator. There were a couple concerned people still in line, and Sally motioned for them to come over to her.
“<We have a feralist who escaped the Domestication Center. Likely harmless, but we need eyes on her. …Brown hair.> Anna…”
“Anna Reed.”
“…Anna Reed. <Okay, thank you. Do keep us updated.>”
Viola knew that Olna would come back to scold her now, so she just started the argument on her footing. “I’m just tired of every human walking in here acting like we’re some occupying army that they need to appease. They hate us, Olna. It’s been a month and we’ve failed to make them feel safe.” Viola didn’t know where this well of emotion had sprung from. She still hadn’t gotten control over her voice – it sounded warbly now, and the flowers that normally adorned her were dropping petals to the floor.
“But they are safe. You had that girl in your lap for most of this morning – did she seem scared of you? That man who you comforted this morning, he came here because he knew you would be able to help him.”
Viola knew she was right, but her feelings were too important to be soothed by cherry-picked examples. “But what about the rest? Do you think people would organize to remove the surveillance from their homes if they trusted us? Every day, I see people driven to the edge of sanity by the fear of being domesticated – by their fear of us. I- that Anna girl was right about us, we wouldn’t help her. We never would have, no matter how many hearings or temporary measures we promised her, we would side with our own every time.” Olna tried to cut her off, but her thoughts were only coming out faster. “In fact, it’s worse than that! She came here because she thought we would help her, and we proved her wrong! I made it worse!” She started floundering a bit. She could actually feel herself becoming undone, the pretense of a human silhouette collapsing with her. “And, and now, we’re just chasing her around, like the whole world has turned on her, and -“
She felt Olna’s body, this huge pile of leaves, form a warm dome over her as she kept mumbling to herself. The rustling of leaves and a chorus of shh, shhs drowned out the rest of the world until she felt her emotions die down somewhat. When she came to, the Center was empty. It was just her and Olna in the room. Olna reacted to her as she rose.
“Welcome back, Viola.” There was much more gentleness in her voice than usual. Viola felt like she’d changed their relationship in a way that she couldn’t take back. “Anna was found after about fifteen minutes, trying to sneak onto a ship bound offworld. She’s feeling a lot better now, by the way. I think you should take the next few days off so that you can cool down, too.”
Viola felt like she had lost the argument, but that wasn’t even the problem, the problem was that she’d failed to communicate her own beliefs to someone who she needed to understand them. Now this would just be an embarrassing hiccup, a moment when she lost her composure and spat out a bunch of incoherent nonsense to be disregarded by the next day. But at the same time, the idea of trying again felt exhausting. “Okay. See you… next week, maybe.”
“Take however long you need. I’ll clean up here.”
A dejected Viola picked her mass up off of the floor and proceeded towards the Center’s double doors. She’d bring herself back to her usual silhouette before she got home, surely. She thought of her florets and felt another wave of stress. I can’t let them see me like this. She was too tired to be alarmed by this idea, it was just another thing to feel bad about.
“One more thing, Viola – I do agree with you. I hope for a day when the humans realize that there is no catch – that we take nothing from them and that we will be here to support them forever. It will come, likely before either of us even bloom. We just have to show them that it’s safe.”
She did feel better after hearing that, and had been able to assume her usual silhouette on the way home. The friendly elevator recognized her and carried her to the floor that she and her florets resided on. She knocked before entering – it was a completely unnecessary step, but it was a fun tradition that got her pets all primed and excited to greet her before she entered the home.
There was something she’d been missing all day. Something that the textbooks about the Haustoric Implant implied, but that wasn’t really understood until you felt it yourself. The textbooks and lectures spoke about how being linked to your florets allowed you to feel their emotional states. It talked about how this could be used to sense sadness, guilt, and other emotions that xenosophonts would sometimes try to hide. And certainly, this was an immensely useful function for the care of florets, but there was another side to this that she hadn’t fully appreciated until just today.
The Haustoric Implant communicated more than just the bad feelings. And as Viola opened the door and felt the force of pure, unconditional love from her florets, radiating from deep within her core, stronger than any drug, the strongest force in the entire universe, she felt them jump into her vines and knew that everything, everything would be okay.