"And thus, the humans came to our time and place," Abricon said as he folded down the book's screen and looked out into the full auditorium beyond him. He put his hands on the desk, all five of them. "And so we are now united to create our own future."
The humans clapped -- Abricon had not been so sure about how they would receive his history of their world written from a Taureen perspective. His own people had clicked in delight. So few understood the odd little humans, and any insight into their brief lives had to be welcome.
People filled by the desk, mostly a cluster of his own kind, heads bobbing as they clicked and invited him to a gathering after the others cleared away. Most kind, most kind...
Then Lady Abigail Ann Faristall came to speak to him. She was a young female who was not known for her good manners, even among her own. The very existence of aliens seemed to annoy her. Both her hair and eye colors had changed again. He had made the mistake of not recognizing her because of such changes once before. He did not want to be scolded again, so he had learned the shape of her face -- the only part of her that did not seem to change, though even it was apt to change colors.
Tonight Lady Abigail wore a dress with too much lace and that was years -- possibly centuries -- out of date. She stood only head and shoulders above the desk, a tiny figure in the mass of tall Taureens. Lady Abigail stared up into his face, eyes narrowed -- Abricon had learned to read human faces. Lady Abigail was ... not happy.
"I don't see why all those humans had to die, Mr. Abricon. Battle after battle. I find that beyond bigotry --"
"History, Lady Abigail," he began, waving three of his five hands in a gesture of politeness, even knowing it was useless. He knew that look from more than a few other humans. "I did not create the circumstances --"
"You should have added some of the other alien races. I noticed that your own people were not present at these massacres."
"We were not there, Lady --"
"Well, that was your choice, wasn't it? I will have a word with your superior about this --"
"I have no superior --"
"I will have you removed from your post --"
"I have no post. I am a historian, Lady Abigail. I write the true history of what has happened on the many worlds. I painstakingly research the evidence, and in some cases, I even hire time probes to verify the information. Nothing I wrote is false."
"Then why weren't any of your people in the story?" she demanded.
Abricon stared at her. This was not a difference in the languages since he spoke her own native tongue. He tried to format an answer -- an answer in any of the fifteen languages he spoke. The words that did come to mind would have been impolite and possibly gotten him banned from any future readings.
But he did, finally, understand one human term he'd never quite grasped until now. Dealing with this one lone human, he could imagine the frustration of others of her kind had been faced with such an incredible blindness to reality.
Yes, he understood now.
And so he leaned forward and pounded his head on the desk.
It helped. Lady Abigail Ann Fairstall left in haste.
He didn't even mind the headache.
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