A Letter Regarding Current Educational Standards for Extra-Cultural Migrants

The human swaggered into the tea-house just as the exalted Warrior-Prince Blue-Stones-Against-the-Wind IV had finished brewing the Communal Fourth-Period Mixture of the Waning Seasons. To begin with, this put the Prince in a very bad mood.

“Prince Blue-Pebbles,” the human yelled out, speaking through a shabby translator-box which mangled the Prince’s name. “You are being the Dance-Champion, of the second level, I are challenger, together-pair duel at Dance Arena. Tenth Period.”

“Leave, human. Your lack of dignity and propriety offend me; if you do not remove yourself from my presence, I will demonstrate my displeasure,” the Prince responded icily, but courteously, from his lower-mouth.

“Together-pair duel at Dance Arena. Is the Blue-Pebbles (arthritic/scared)?”

The courtiers present for tea keened at the insult; the Prince’s antennae quivered in rage at the offense.

“The duel will take place immediately,” the Prince commanded. “Take this… creature to the Arena, and tell the Arbiters we require immediate accommodation for a Dance.”

The Prince stared at the human, who appeared excited at the commotion.

We do not anticipate this challenge requiring a great deal of time to dispense with.”

With that, the Prince retired to one of his chambers to prepare for the challenge. As was my duty, I approached the human.

“Human. It is my obligation to inform you that I am to be your second for this Dance.”

“Great. Great dance, great second,” the translator box squawked. I sighed, and turned on my own translator.

“Do you understand, human? I am to be your second for the Dance.”

“Hell yeah, bro!” the human exclaimed. “I got the dance! I win the bet, that hot alien chick totally has to go on a date with me now!”

My armor-plates shivered from the human speaking so informally to me. However, I never shirk my duty to the Prince, and continued through my discomfort to prepare the human for the Dance.

“Your current attire is inappropriate for an engagement with the Prince. We must find you appropriate clothing before the Dance,” I instructed them, staring at their motley garb.

“New clothes? Sweet deal, bro,” they crooned.

We exited the tea-house, and entered the station’s thoroughfare, heading towards the mass fabricator. A group of humans had been waiting around the corner, and cheered when they saw their compatriot with me. Each of them held some sort of metal can, which they raised towards their companion in a strange salute.

“I GET THE DATE! No way I lose this dance contest!” the human yelled at them, and they cheered even louder in return. I blinked all of my eyes heavily in open frustration. Using my forelegs, I herded the human towards the nearest mass fabricator.

Reaching a stall which had the right capabilities, I pushed the human inside of it.

“Stand still,” I instructed them.

The mass fabricator took their measurements, and conformed the general shape and style of a generic biped’s dueling robe to the human’s body. The design I chose was plain and white, devoid of any dueling records or philosophical stances — the color a hatchling would use for their armor. Shimmering slightly, the robe appeared in a haze around the human’s body, and then settled onto their limbs. The fabricator’s door slid open, and the human stepped back out.

“This is pretty comfy,” they prattled on, plucking at the fabric. “Feels like I should be naked under this. Is this silk? Do you guys make silk with… some part of all of that?” they asked, gesturing wildly at the general vicinity of my lower body. I did not dignify their question with any response.

Thankfully, the arena was nearby. We began to walk towards it, but suddenly the human tripped over their robe. Swiftly, I caught them with one of my legs, and set them back upright. I am no expert in reading human expressions, but to me they did not appear to be entirely well. For a moment, I was filled with a strange empathy for this soft, squishy creature, so far from its home.

“Human,” I asked cautiously, “are you entirely all right? Do you understand the role of dance in Voronoi culture?”

The human made a noise as gas escaped from its mouth, but it was a sound which seemed to be more related to bodily function than communication.

“Naw, I’m good, bro. It’s a dance contest, what more is there to know?”

I sighed, making my armor-plates hum. Picking up the pace, I brought the human the rest of the way to the Arena.

The Arena extends through the Station’s shell, piercing into both the interior and exterior spaces. The Arbiters had prepared the central chamber for the Prince, as was his right. Bowing to the Master-Arbiter as I entered the arrival chamber, I began the introduction.

“I am Bright-Hill-Brook-Iron VII, Champion-Servant to his Highness, the exalted Warrior-Prince Blue-Stones-Against-the-Wind IV,” I sang out with my high-mouth. “I bring to the Arena the one whom I am acting as second for, -”

I paused awkwardly in the middle of the song, realizing I couldn’t just call the challenger “some annoying human.”

“Human,” I whispered, “what is your name? Your title?”

“I’m Chad, man,” he responded, “brother of Gamma Delta Zeta! Whoo!”

I continued on with the song, fitting the human words into it as best I could.

“-the one whom I am acting as second for, Brother Chad-Gamma-Delta-Zeta I. We arrive to resolve the challenge which was issued, through the ritual of Dance, in this high and holy space.”

“Your match is scheduled and has been accepted,” the Master-Arbiter droned through its speech-grate. “Brother Chad-Gamma-Delta-Zeta I will follow me to the dance arena, or forfeit the match to their second, Bright-Hill-Brook-Iron VII.”

For a split second, the human did nothing, and I grew anxious that they would finally understand, and forfeit, forcing me to take their place in the Dance. But then, they finally stepped forward, realization flashing over their face; their cheap translator box had simply been slow in switching over to understand the language of the Master-Arbiter. As they walked off behind the shining golden Master-Arbiter, relief washed over me. There was no doubt in my mind the human had not understood the gravity of their situation. Nevertheless, even a misunderstanding could besmirch the Prince’s reputation — and the weight of one human life is nothing against that.

I retired to the observation ring around the central chamber, where the others who had witnessed the challenge were gathered. The Prince stood on the Defender’s tile, resplendent in his void-black and filigree-silver ceremonial armor, as befits a royal dancer of the second rank. The human stood on the Challenger’s tile, in the white robe I had given them. It did not fit too badly, I suppose. Beneath them, the floor-grid was transparent except for the permanent orientation symbols, and revealed a beautiful view of the nebula outside the station.

Setting the stage for the Dance, the floor-grid lit, randomly patterned with the Symbols of Philosophy. Then, the music started, and the Dance began.

The music was horrible — all pulsing low-tones and screeching, discordant highs. As the challenger, the human had been allowed to select the music. As the defender, the Prince had to dance to it as best he could.

And dance the Prince did — expertly navigating around the ever-changing grid, neatly managing balanced elemental and philosophical sequences, as he leaped and pirouetted across the floor with all of his sixlegs.

The human mostly seemed to gyrate in place, and match colors while stepping across the floor-grid. We had expected to see a weak showing from them, but none of us had thought that it would be so singularly hopeless — the human obviously didn’t even understand any philosophical symbols, or even how to form a simple hatchling’s rhyme-sequence.

Across the chamber, the Prince’s dance had shifted. He had moved on from demonstrating his technical prowess (which he had no doubt intended mainly for the audience’s benefit), and had begun a formal response pattern. My suspicions were confirmed after seeing the initial three-pair of symbols in the pattern: fire-fire, red-black, ending-ending. The Prince would give the human a swift conclusion: he had chosen the Dance of Disintegration.

The human, sensing a shift in the Prince’s style, shifted from gyrating, to shaking and thrusting their body, while hardly hitting any tiles at all, and not making any moves to counter the Prince’s formal combinations. At least they had detected the dance had multiple stages, I supposed.

Finally, the terrible human song ended. The Prince was caught slightly unawares by its abrupt ending, but still managed to hold a perfect dagger-pose on a black tile. Knowing when the song was going to end, the human had entered into some sort of a pose early, but their arms were wavering, and their stance was unsteady. We waited for the Arbiter’s judgment.

“The dance has concluded. Scores are being tabulated,” it announced mechanically.

Normally for the audience, this was a moment of tension. However, for us it was only a moment of impatience.

“Exalted Warrior-Prince Blue-Stones-Against-the-Wind IV, Defender: 106,070 points,” the Arbiter boomed out.
Brother Chad-Gamma-Delta-Zeta I, Challenger: 50 points,” it continued.
Disintegration Approved,” the Arbiter finally concluded.

“Wait, what?” Chad asked, confusedly, still holding their pose.

The Prince charged off his tile, barreling towards the Human, who was still looking around as if an answer to their problems would pop up from one of the blank tiles. Finally, seeing the Prince charging at them must have activated some primal response in their brain; they attempted to get up and run away, but, again, tripped over their robe, and fell to the ground. They attempted to stand up again, but it was too late; the Prince was already upon them, and had pinned them in place.

Flattening his abdomen, the Prince collected his bile into his forward-ducts. When they were full, he vomited the bile out over the human from his lower-mouth. The human barely found a moment to scream before they were disintegrated in the acidic solution. As quickly as it had begun, the duel was complete; it was an unsatisfying victory, and a waste of time for all involved.

As an educational minister responsible for education of extra-cultural migrants, I relate this story to you that you might better understand the type of incidents we have been facing with the influx of new aliens (mainly humans) to the station. Please ensure that educational videos and pamphlets are updated to ensure that new species are well-informed regarding the gravity and importance dance has within Voronoi culture.

May you always reach harmony and sequence,
Champion-Servant Bright-Hill-Brook-Iron VII