“That’s a lot of pressure for twenty-four-year-old kid. I signed up to fly airplanes not to be an ambassador. And then they told us how it was even more important for officers to be culturally sensitive. They explained that whatever we did, the enlisted would take it as a signal they could do something three times worse. So if we were to do something heinous, they would do something worse, and it would be our fault.” Maybe Max was bored or maybe he liked having an audience who couldn’t understand him, but he found hanging out with the kids cathartic.
“That was a lot of pressure, and I was glad I didn't get stationed somewhere isolated enough that my lack of cultural sensitivity would lead to some international incident. I'm pretty sure my officers were nervous about me being gay, because there are parts of the world where gay does not go over well. However, my point is that if my training officers saw me doing such a culturally inappropriate thing as naming somebody else's children,” and at this, Max brought Xander close to the surface of the water and made puffy faces at him, “they would probably go back in time and flunk me. Funny thing though, I'm not entirely sure I'm going home. Ever. So I think I need to stop living my life like I will be. I’ll stick around and name you, if you don’t mind.”
Max lowered himself until his mouth was underwater then blew bubbles at Xander. Several of Xander’s tentacles waved, and then Xander pushed off from Max’s hand and swam madly for Max’s face. His stubby tentacles caught at Max’s lips, and Max blew more bubbles. Xander’s tentacles danced across Max’s cheeks and up into his nose.
Max snorted and caught Xander in his hand. “Okay. No snotty tentacles for you, sir.”
Xander wrapped his tentacles around Max’s thumb and pressed his belly to Max’s palm. In that short swim, he had already cooled significantly. “If your father told me that he was upset with me for giving you names, I would stop,” Max said. “Of course I named your father after a belching cartoon character and he doesn't seem to mind. You have a pretty laid-back father, but he was still awfully worried about you.”
Kohei swam up and caught Max by his left wrist. “What's the matter? Are you tired?” Max waved his arms as if he were jogging in slow motion. Kohei’s grasp was viselike, especially when Max compared it to Xander’s light grip.
“You're welcome to hitch a ride for a while,” Max told Kohei. It wasn’t like he was going anywhere, not with Xander needing him. “You get so crazy with your gymnastics that I'm hardly surprised you wore yourself out. You have to learn to pace yourself.”
The doors opened, and Rick came in with his hat back in place. He looked better than he had. Considering he had been on the verge of exhaustion, it didn't require much to look better than half-dead. “Query. Did you manage to get some sleep?” Max asked.
Rick slid toward the pool. “I slept two-point-three-seven hours.”
That was not helpful. “Query. What is considered a normal amount of sleep for your species?”
“Five-point-two hours.”
So he hadn’t slept long enough, but Max couldn’t blame him. “Well at least you got some sleep. But both of us need to pace ourselves so that we don't get too tired. The kids need us both rested and fed. Query. Did you get some food?”
“Not yet. I shall.” Rick came into the water until it was halfway up his walking tentacle. Max lifted his hand so that Rick could see Xander still cradled in his palm. “The offspring are fine, but I'm not giving them back to you until you've eaten. You need to be strong.”
Rick came closer, his tentacles reaching out toward Max and the kids. “You have tended them long enough.”
“I had a long sleep. I feel wonderful, so you need to take enough time off that you feel wonderful before you take over. All the children are fine. Offspring Two seems a little overconfident, but Offspring Three is fine and healthy.”
“Query. Clarify overconfident.” Rick rotated, and he only stopped once his largest eye was pointed at the far corner of the pool where Offspring Two was busily sticking a tentacle out of the water like a flag. When Max turned, Kohei launched himself toward his brother.
“Bold. Reckless. He crawled out of the water before deciding that was a bad idea,” Max explained. At this point he was almost more worried about their little daredevil than he was about Xander. Daredevil. Huh. Matthew Michael Murdock was the original Daredevil. Max wondered if that would be a good name for the wild child.
“Offspring must learn boundaries,” Rick said. He turned back toward Max and reached a tentacle toward Xander.
“I agree. I just hope he doesn't break something before he figures out where those boundaries are.” It was probably a good thing that Rick's people didn't have bones because the middle child would've already broken a couple. He was precocious for a one-day-old.
Rick ran a tentacle along Xander’s back, and Xander reached for his father without letting go of Max’s hand. Rick might have a warm body, but his tentacles were far too chilly to keep Xander healthy. That was why Rick had to hold his son close to his belly.
“Query. Are humans born with full cognitive abilities?” Rick asked.
Max snorted. “No. Not even close. Humans are born with the potential for intelligence, but we pretty much roll around, cry, and eat for the first several months.” He frowned. “Actually, we can’t even roll for the first few weeks. And then it takes years before real cognitive processing skills develop.” Max had to assume Rick was trying to make a point, so he waited for Rick to continue.
“Query. How long is required between birth and attainment of cognitive processing skills?”
“Query. Clarification. Any cognitive processing skills or reasonably well-developed skills? Because those will have different answers.”
Rick floated closer. “The people are born with cognitive skills, but they lack experience to contextualize knowledge or apply innate instinct to universe.” He curled his tentacle so it surrounded Xander.
“Are you saying they’re born smart? I mean, are they born able to understand cause and effect?” Max asked.
“Yes.” Rick shifted his tentacle away from Xander and curled it around Max’s wrist. The contact caught Max off guard. A flash of connection—of longing—made Max ache even more when Rick then used his tentacle to wave Max’s hand through the water. Of course. He wanted to keep Xander fed and healthy.
Max tried to appreciate the break from the endless movement and his sore muscles, but the touch reminded him of a hard ache in his soul.
“It makes the people unfamiliar compared to other beings,” Rick said, and Max realized that Rick was trying to explain his species as a whole. “Others believe in raising young, but our young only need protection in order to learn context and language.”
Max studied Xander as he clung to Max's ring finger and pinky. No matter what Rick said, Max refused to think of Xander as anything other than a helpless child.
Rick didn’t say anything else, and Max started feeling like he was letting his half of the conversation down. “Okay,” he said.
Rick kept using his tentacle to propel Max’s hand. “I wish to contextualize information on human preference.”