Thousand+ Words for Nov. 6, 2025

The Official Looked over at Susan with a Sour, Angry Expression that Would Not....

]The official looked over at Susan with a sour, angry expression that would not have been discernable to persons unfamiliar with Avairhim anatomy and culture, but which was unmistakable otherwise. The official's jaw was busy working a large wad of cud, so she waved to catch Susan’s attention and grunted when Susan didn’t immediately see. Then Susan did see, and she awkwardly wheeled her carry-on towards the indicated cubicle. She dropped her passport, uttering a little squeak of surprise, and the official’s crown feathers rustled against each other—it was the Avairhim equivalent of rolling one’s eyes—but she didn’t stand them up, as she was making an effort to be polite. With some difficulty, Susan managed to retrieve the passport and made it to the counter.

The official moved the cud to a pouch inside her beak. “Good evening,” she said in accented but excellent English. “Passport, please.”

Susan put her closed passport on the counter.

The official’s crown feathers rustled again and she used telekinesis to spin the passport around, open it, and place it face down on the scanner. A number of signs along the walkway that led to the customs and immigration area advised visitors to place their open passports on the scanner, but this one—this human!—had to be helped. So many humans did. At least this human noticed that the official was helping her: “Oh, thank you,” Susan said.

“What is the purpose of your visit?”

Susan smiled and placed her elbows on the counter. To her right was a sign in English: Do Not Put Elbows on the Counter. “I’m visiting my son, he’s an engineer on topside.”

The passport came off of the scanner of its own accord and then it opened to the endorsements pages and some unusual-looking text appeared as if by magic on the page, followed by a multicolored stamp, and then the passport closed. “You may take your passport,” the official said. Susan did so and grasped her carry-on. “Have a nice evening.”

“Thanks.” She stepped off toward the large glass doors that led to the luggage pickup area and then the inspection stations beyond, her attention occupied with scanning the various signs in various languages that gave various directions to the various species that commonly transited the spaceport. Susan recognized some of them—for humans, English and Arabic was provided, usually under the default Avairhim script. There was the oddly angular Thellosian text and pieces of the sculpture language of the Floaters on posts. On the floor along the wall, Susan noticed the special yellow pads provided for the snakelike Vibba creatures to slither onto and through vibrations, receive information and instructions. She navigated along the wide passageway and located a large display directing her to Carousel 12, where she would retrieve her luggage and proceed to inspection.

As it happened, Carousel 12 was the first one past the display, and so she found an unobtrusive spot on the other side of a group of Floaters that were waiting for their own bags. Susan had noticed the Floaters on the journey in—she had walked down the aisle past them on her way to the section of the ships that had seats designed for human anatomy. The Floaters were creatures that generated methane and vented it to a large gas bag from which the rest of their small, strange bodies were suspended. Mouthlike organs paired to an exhaust jet were positions at strategic locations around their circumference; to move, they inhaled air and then jetted it out. Floaters also had the capacity to squirt jets of methane from the exhausts, but they generally did not use this function when off their own world, as they understood that the odor of the methane was offensive to many of the species they would encounter. Susan supposed they were a family, if Floaters had such things. One of the group, smaller than the others, floated above the group and was slowing rotating; the larger ones hovered just off the floor, their tentacles dragging.

The rotating beacon illuminated, and as it silently rotated, the circular belt started moving and presently, luggage began to discharge from the top end of a centrally located ramp and spill out onto the belt. Susan was standing at the narrow end of the oval belt, and she peered over at the ramp to see what luggage was dropping. A large blue suitcase, then a small green one, then a cardboard box wrapped with twine, then a black carry0n.

One of the large Floaters had moved to a position over the ramp at some distance and one of its tentacles was lifted, the end of it pointing right at Susan. As it continued to point at her, the Floater started drifting toward her, lowering as it did so. Susan held her ground, but slipped her hand into her pocket and grasped the handle of her pump zapper, which she always carried with her on flights. The pump zapper was nonlethal, legal for all routes on the Taurus line. The Floater came to a stop with the tip of its tentacle about two feet from and level with her face; Susan could see the beady little eyeball at its tip measuring her up and down.

She pulled the pump zapper out of her pocket and held it pointing down. In her peripheral vision, she could see the other Floaters had noticed and they were slowly floating over, orbiting each other as they did so. Susan remembered reading that this behavior meant something, but she couldn’t remember what. Instead of grope for the memory, she raised the pump zapper and squeezed the handle.

Nothing appeared to happen, but a moment later, the tentacle retraced into the Floater’s carapice and its gas bag seemed to shrink, wrinkles forming in the blue skin that had previously been held taut from the pressure of the gas inside. The other Floaters halted in their progression and remained stock still as the Floater in front of her continued to deflate. It started to gently sink, deflating as it went, until its tentacles touched the floor and the central portion of its body touched down. The gas bag was completely deflated, and flopped over its body. Susan started backing up—but out of the corner of her eye, she noticed her bag on the circular belt. She reached over, grasped and hefted it, and turned, stepping off as the other Floaters descended and started reviving the deflated one. She stepped off quickly towards Luggage Inspection, not looking back.

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