Since I didn’t know Winston very well yet, I couldn’t quite read his grin. Right questions were also not lining up when I was given a hazmat suit equipped with an activated carbon filter system, sturdy wading boots, and long-sleeved, cut-resistant work gloves. The "cleaning supplies" waiting next to the bathroom door should have been the last clue, but all of this still slipped past my slightly dazed consciousness.
The regulars at the café, the Guuvert species, had come for their usual visit. I had never seen them before. I would remember if I had. They looked somewhat like giant butterfly caterpillars with six stiff legs. Some kind of skis acted as their feet. On the café's red carpet, their footsteps sounded like rhythmic swhoosh, swhoosh. Sluggish, but strangely rhythmic. As if a jazz band had several drummers, and each of them was doing a sound check at their own pace.
By now, I’d already laid eyes on a few galactic species, so I was no longer completely amazed at the sight of new creatures. But what surprised me this time wasn’t their appearance, but their species-specific habits. Or maybe rituals is a better word here. Something as mundane as orange juice brought these individuals far from home to perform a solemn ceremony.
When the Guuverts visit Café Stardust, it's closed to other customers. Anyone familiar with the species knows why. The café usually opens a couple of hours afterward, and I stepped into the pattern during this so-called idle time. After putting on my gear and opening the bathroom door it hit me, why a big sledgehammer, a chisel, and a wide barn-style shovel had been placed alongside the effective-looking mop in the tool kit. Next to the door, inside the bathroom, there was a pressure washer embedded in the wall and a long hose reel. If not for the pressure washer, it could have easily been mistaken for an apartment building fire hose.
When these caterpillar-like customers came into the café, I was sitting at my usual corner table. I like this spot because I can see the whole café. First, the quartet tried "sit" in chairs designed for human-like figures. As Winston wheeled away the furniture, which had been completely destroyed for obvious reasons, he saw my questioning gaze. "Traditions and rituals," was the short answer. And it wasn't just the broken chairs.
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Drinking the juice itself wasn’t the oddity. Though a long, straw-like tongue protruding from their heads looked kinda funny, they just used it to slurp the cup empty, savoring every drop. The four then seemed to slip into a trance until they suddenly got to their feet. The whole group rushed as one toward the bathroom. And here is when the universe showed its multitude. Again.
Before going inside, they chanted some kind of melodic spell or something similar. The singing continued inside, mixed with the sounds of clapping and what could be water balloons hitting the wall. There was silence, then a faint humming. Shortly after this, the group shuffled out, looking evidently relaxed. I watched the whole event in silent amazement. But even after all this, none of the alarm bells in my head went off when Winston approached me. Mrs. M could have easily taken care of this, but I was told she and Winston had an unspoken agreement. Its title and only word is simply Guuvert. That makes sense.
After sweating through my part, I felt something that was pure satisfaction. Even though I’d been given a reason to be here in the form of an observer, the training period somehow felt light. I was merely writing down my perceptions and honing my skills. It didn't really serve this community. And even though I had already helped Mr. M move crates, it was this task that made me feel like doing my part. Despite the absence of choice, I was grateful for my abduction. It just took some time to realize it. And this was a perfect way to demonstrate it concretely. I didn't reveal this detail to Winston, as he seemed satisfied with the secretive way in which he’d assigned the work.
Guuverts, oranges, and Earth share a pretty unusual shared history. But the subject is too broad for me to cover here, so we’ll return to this later. I’ll just say that my conversation with Babaru on this topic was very interesting. Pearl was in a generous mood and sat with us for a little while, sharing her knowledge of this unusual history.
This rather peculiar day was important to me, and I got to experience something very profound with the whole group. This was perhaps the first time I felt like belonging. The biggest factor may have been the tiny bit of acceptance I received from Queen Pearl. Cats are strange creatures, but in an inexplicably lovable way.
Till next time.
- Johnny