very effectively. She hunched over the coffee table as she took apart a wristwatch and put it back together while watching the documentary with her other eye and snacking on honey-dipped spiger nuggets rolled in pepper.
Kuzu buzzed deeply. “Your move, Bo.” The large sel’s fur coat was splattered black, purple, and gold, like a Rorschach test over his muscular frame. Three chessboards were on the coffee table in front of him. Kuzu enjoyed chess, having learned it from Bo, and now carried on three games: with Hender, an inattentive Andy, and the humiliated Bo, who wished he had never taught the sel how to play the game.
Hender watched the TV screen:
“… here are the people of Henders Island. They were saved because humanity recognized one of its own that day, despite a barrier of species that seemed to separate us forever. This is not only the story of how we rescued them. It is the story of how they may have rescued us.”
“Oh, brother!” Andy blew a raspberry. He pushed back his long kinky blond hair, and laughed. Cynthea’s cutthroat showmanship had grated on him from the beginning when they were filming SeaLife . She had singled out Andy to be the show’s comic relief from the start, which he found out after viewing episodes since returning from the expedition. He resented her greatly for this. On the other hand, since the reality show had been the reason he reached Henders Island, Andy was grateful to her for casting him. The hendros had become the only family he had, and the only people on Earth who really cared about him, other than Nell and Geoffrey.
The hendros clapped wildly, a human custom Andy regretted they had adopted, since only five sels had thirty hands to contribute to every ovation. Footage of Kuzu, taken a few months ago by Zero Monroe, one of SeaLife ’s cameramen, now appeared on the large screen. Kuzu’s full name appeared in a chyron:
KUZU-THROPINSALUSUVORRATI-GROPANINTHIZKOLEVOLIZIM-STAL
The camera zoomed in on the hulking sel.
“His full name is too long to pronounce: his occupation was hunter and inventor on Henders Island. He crafted traps and weapons used by sels on Henders Island for millions of years to catch their food.… He is Kuzu , and he is over ninety thousand years old. Brilliant and brooding, this brawny sel spends his time learning English along with his fellow sels so that they can persuade humans, someday, to set his people free.”
“There ya go!” Bo said. “Not bad, eh, Kuzu?” Bo tried to give Kuzu a high five.
But the large sel looked intently at the screen with one eye as he reached out with two unfolding arms. “Bishop takes pawn, checkmate; queen takes knight.” Kuzu exchanged pieces on Andy’s and Bo’s chessboards. He loved playing Andy, who lost with great melodrama.
“Oh, crap !” Andy shriveled. “I’m never playing this goddamned game again!”
Kuzu honked with pleasure.
“Oh, jeez,” Bo groaned as his own predicament dawned on him.
Hender scooped three handfuls of Joe’s fresh batch of popcorn and finally strode forward. “Red pawn takes knight,” he piped softly. “Check, Kuzu.” He climbed over the back of the sofa to sit between Kuzu and Andy.
Kuzu’s fur flashed yellow sparks as he twisted his head and glared at Hender’s pawn standing where his knight had stood. Kuzu won at chess 80 percent of the time—except when he played Hender, who won 50 percent of the time. Hender hated chess 100 percent of the time.
Nid pointed at the TV screen as Cynthea’s voice intoned: “This is Moodaydle Nid, the orange sel, a musician. He recently released a single of a traditional melody passed down through his family for six million years.”
They heard a clip of the song that sounded like echoes of wind.
“Nid is 16,511 years old.”
“Wooo-hooo!” Nid warbled.
The hendros applauded to see Plesh, the artist among them, wave paintbrushes at the camera, followed by Mai, the doctor, who worked in the lab with the human
Kuzu buzzed deeply. “Your move, Bo.” The large sel’s fur coat was splattered black, purple, and gold, like a Rorschach test over his muscular frame. Three chessboards were on the coffee table in front of him. Kuzu enjoyed chess, having learned it from Bo, and now carried on three games: with Hender, an inattentive Andy, and the humiliated Bo, who wished he had never taught the sel how to play the game.
Hender watched the TV screen:
“… here are the people of Henders Island. They were saved because humanity recognized one of its own that day, despite a barrier of species that seemed to separate us forever. This is not only the story of how we rescued them. It is the story of how they may have rescued us.”
“Oh, brother!” Andy blew a raspberry. He pushed back his long kinky blond hair, and laughed. Cynthea’s cutthroat showmanship had grated on him from the beginning when they were filming SeaLife . She had singled out Andy to be the show’s comic relief from the start, which he found out after viewing episodes since returning from the expedition. He resented her greatly for this. On the other hand, since the reality show had been the reason he reached Henders Island, Andy was grateful to her for casting him. The hendros had become the only family he had, and the only people on Earth who really cared about him, other than Nell and Geoffrey.
The hendros clapped wildly, a human custom Andy regretted they had adopted, since only five sels had thirty hands to contribute to every ovation. Footage of Kuzu, taken a few months ago by Zero Monroe, one of SeaLife ’s cameramen, now appeared on the large screen. Kuzu’s full name appeared in a chyron:
KUZU-THROPINSALUSUVORRATI-GROPANINTHIZKOLEVOLIZIM-STAL
The camera zoomed in on the hulking sel.
“His full name is too long to pronounce: his occupation was hunter and inventor on Henders Island. He crafted traps and weapons used by sels on Henders Island for millions of years to catch their food.… He is Kuzu , and he is over ninety thousand years old. Brilliant and brooding, this brawny sel spends his time learning English along with his fellow sels so that they can persuade humans, someday, to set his people free.”
“There ya go!” Bo said. “Not bad, eh, Kuzu?” Bo tried to give Kuzu a high five.
But the large sel looked intently at the screen with one eye as he reached out with two unfolding arms. “Bishop takes pawn, checkmate; queen takes knight.” Kuzu exchanged pieces on Andy’s and Bo’s chessboards. He loved playing Andy, who lost with great melodrama.
“Oh, crap !” Andy shriveled. “I’m never playing this goddamned game again!”
Kuzu honked with pleasure.
“Oh, jeez,” Bo groaned as his own predicament dawned on him.
Hender scooped three handfuls of Joe’s fresh batch of popcorn and finally strode forward. “Red pawn takes knight,” he piped softly. “Check, Kuzu.” He climbed over the back of the sofa to sit between Kuzu and Andy.
Kuzu’s fur flashed yellow sparks as he twisted his head and glared at Hender’s pawn standing where his knight had stood. Kuzu won at chess 80 percent of the time—except when he played Hender, who won 50 percent of the time. Hender hated chess 100 percent of the time.
Nid pointed at the TV screen as Cynthea’s voice intoned: “This is Moodaydle Nid, the orange sel, a musician. He recently released a single of a traditional melody passed down through his family for six million years.”
They heard a clip of the song that sounded like echoes of wind.
“Nid is 16,511 years old.”
“Wooo-hooo!” Nid warbled.
The hendros applauded to see Plesh, the artist among them, wave paintbrushes at the camera, followed by Mai, the doctor, who worked in the lab with the human
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