Memory Transcription Subject: Chiri, Gojid Bartender

  Date [standardized human time]: November 20, 2136

  Well, that certainly was some fascinating new information to digest about human behavior and culture. Iris herself struck me as adorable, harmless, and actively handing me pastries. Gold stars all around.

  Point of order! said Shadow. Iris is a conventionally attractive human woman in the same age bracket as us. She’ll be working in close proximity to David. Permission to feel jealous, or perhaps anxious about her stealing him away?

  Permission denied. We trust David. Frankly, the way Iris was blushing at Charmaine, we can’t even be sure Iris is attracted to men. Or all that interested in other humans, for that matter! Most of the pictures we saw of her, she was socializing with humans dressed as bipedal mammals with fur. Maybe she’d be more interested in a Yotul or a Nevok woman now that those are an option.

  Or a Gojid woman? Luna pointed out. Followup to the previous line of inquiry, is Iris going to try stealing us away from David?

  There was a brief and confused fluttering in my stomach at the thought.

  Not sure how you feel about that, but you like to be liked? Luna suggested. We’ve had one human interested in us. How about second human?

  The line is about ‘second breakfast’, said Shadow, and we still haven’t watched the Lord of the Rings yet. Also, Iris literally just made us breakfast food. Possibly because she’s into us?

  Okay, executive order, we’re tabling the relationship thoughts. We’ll be here all day making extremely presumptuous and unprofessional inferences about future coworkers. This council simply has too many more pressing topics to get through.

  What’s more important than worrying about relationship stuff? Shadow asked incredulously. Are we under attack or something?

  No, it looks like we’re just zoning out and mixing drinks on autopilot, said Luna. Seems pretty danger-free from here. Is there something else important to discuss, then?

  Gee, I dunno, maybe the fact that there’s an entire human subculture dedicated to becoming an herbivore so hard that they literally start dressing as one?

  I don’t think it’s just herbivores, said Luna. We haven’t learned all the Earth animals yet--

  Point of order, why the fuck does this planet have so many animals? Shadow interjected. That has horrifying ecological implications that we should--

  --examine at a later date! For fuck’s sake, Shadow, stay on topic before I have to put you in time out. You want to see what Luna and I get up to when left to our own devices again?

  You got into a hole-digging competition with Toki on the beach and got wet sand all over your nice coat, muttered Shadow. Fine. Luna, you were on human-shaped animal costumes and their subtypes?

  Yes! We haven’t learned all the Earth animals yet, Luna continued, but several of the costumes in the picture were clearly intended to be dog-adjacent. Wolves and foxes and stuff. Canines, I think they’re called?

  Wild predators, in any event, Shadow said. This Furry movement clearly isn’t just about becoming an herbivore. There must be more to it.

  Leads nicely into our own progress at reshaping ourselves into a mighty hunter, though! said Luna.

  Yeah, but I don’t need to be anything other than myself for that. Gojids are natural hunters.

  Couldn’t hurt, though, said Luna. We’ve been considering dogs--humanity’s original hunting companions--to be something of a spirit animal for us already. Maybe we should try on the mantle of another of Earth’s great predators, see if we can learn something new.

  Yeah… yeah, alright! If we’re just playing pretend, why not try on a new face for a bit? What are we working with here?

  I looked myself over and started forming an idea as I noticed the similarities.

  Fluffy brown fur, big claws, omnivorous, apex predator, cares about their loved ones but capable of going it alone… it’s even bipedal sometimes, and they’re native to New York. Charmaine even called me one already!

  I nodded to myself, satisfied with my conclusions. “So where do you get the costumes, anyway?” I asked. “I wanna be a bear!” I flashed my teeth and claws in a playful display of faux ferocity.

  “Oh! Um, you generally have to either make them yourself, or you hire someone to make it for you,” said Iris. “It’s called a fursuit, though, but you’ve already got, umm… fur.” She considered me carefully, her eyes switching their gaze from friendly admiration to an artisan considering their craft. She reached out, tentatively, like she wanted to examine my paws, my face, and my quills. I indulged her investigation. She seemed smitten with my mittens. “You know, if you wanted to be a bear, specifically, you’re already most of the way there, innately. You could probably get by with just a few costume prosthetics. Acrylic nails or gloves to make the claws and paws a bit bigger, some fake fangs, maybe a hooded cloak to cover your quills and give you ears up on top of your head…”

  “Less of a full fursuit, more like a human cosplaying as Sun Wukong,” David added in agreement.

  “Who?” I asked, saving Rosi the embarrassment of asking.

  “The legendary Monkey King, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven,” said David. “Mythical figure. He’s usually depicted as a cross between a human hero and some of our primate cousin species.”

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  “You could have just said catgirls?” Charmaine interjected.

  Iris was tapping her face, thinking. “Frankly, if you connected it all together--cloak, mask, and arm sections--you could probably just make a single draped back piece.” She pulled out her holopad. “Hang on, lemme do a rough sketch and see what one of my arts and crafts buddies thinks of--”

  David cleared his throat loudly.

  Iris looked up at him, puzzled.

  David blinked slowly.

  Iris’s eyes went wide. “Oh! Right! Sorry, I was making muffins. I’ll do sketches after those are in the oven.” She put her holopad back away, scooped up the lowball glass of my Garnet-in-Exile flavor shot--again, just the sweet boozy part I’d drizzle over a dry cider to make it taste like a sparkling wine--and sniffed at it, curiously, before trying a sip. “Oh! Wow, that’s sweet and fruity. Lot of depth, though. Okay. I think I can work with this. It’s just like doing a chocolate cake with a splash of amaretto.”

  “Make one of those, too, and you’re in!” David called after her as she scurried back into the kitchen.

  I turned to David with a worried look. “How, uh, predatory are human labor laws?”

  David looked wounded. “She’ll be compensated for her time during the interview, but this is helping me gauge what pay rate she’s worth.”

  Rosi had her paw in the air immediately. “We, uh, never quite discussed my pay rate?”

  Every herbivore we hire makes the business look better to potential herbivore customers, said Shadow. And your obsession with omnivory notwithstanding, we're not exempt from that rule ourselves! I mean, shit, our cut of the bar sales is practically higher than our base salary! Everyone comes in a bit skittish at the thought of a human restaurant and wants to order from the Gojid. We need Iris and Rosi. Direly.

  Predatory suggestion: do not tell them that until after they sign their contracts, said Luna. Nyeheheheheh.

  “Oh, one sec,” said David, fetching a larger format holopad. “Let me put that together for you. In the meantime, go on, try the waffles before the cream melts. Tell me what you think.”

  I certainly didn’t have a problem with normal whipped cream or buttermilk, but the odd confection Iris had thrown together allegedly used neither. It was this golden brown cake of some sort--a very curious shape to it, like it had been baked in a hot metal mold--full of little buckets and holes for sauces to pool into. The sauce of choice today was a fluffy white cream, probably made from coconut, and fresh berries. I took a bite. Good crunch on the outside, soft and chewy interior. The whipped cream kept the whole confection moist, and the berries added new textures and a touch of tartness. Overall, it was pleasantly sweet, but not too sweet.

  “I like it!” I said.

  Rosi was munching hers as well with a pleased look on her face. “Huh. Interesting. It’s like a sweet version of the wraps, in a sense,” she pointed out. “You could vary up the toppings. Different fruits, different sauces… or maybe syrup and chopped nuts? Yeah, I think these would sell.”

  “That’s the plan,” said David with a smirk. “Waffles are a popular breakfast item. Crepes, too. Pancakes… Yeah. Per your suggestion, I wanted a quick and easy option for something a little sweeter, but not so sweet that we're just serving cake for dinner. It was a good idea you had.” He flipped the holopad around and opened the language setting for Rosi to pick from. “I hope the numbers here reflect that.”

  Rosi tapped a language, and scanned down some odd letters unique to her people. Her jaw dropped. “Holy shit!”

  She doesn’t swear often, pointed out Luna.

  “I’m guessing the exchange rate’s doing some heavy lifting?” I joked.

  Rosi shook her head in disbelief. “You pay waitresses this much?!”

  “Wealthiest city in the wealthiest country on a planet that already had a fully industrialized modern economy before we ever met you guys, versus… what, a cozy little seaside village in Space Greece that only got indoor plumbing a decade or two ago?” David shrugged. “Yeah, even with the current dip from the war, dollars should go pretty far for ya.”

  “Dip?” said Rosi, confused. “What dip? What do you mean?”

  Your business sense is tingling, Chiri, said Shadow with a smirk.

  “Eugh,” Charmaine grumbled from the other end of the bar. “I think I’m supposed to know this…” I slid the platter of waffle bites towards her so she could get some more blood sugar to her brain. She crunched one happily. “Oh shit, these are good…” she muttered. “And they’re vegan? Huh.”

  Nevertheless, I grinned, because I actually did know the answer to this one. “The U.N. is buying up everything they can to get a fleet together,” I said. “Raw materials, parts, munitions, even full starships. But humanity’s also mostly in a fully-mobilized war economy right now, so there aren’t a lot of goods being made for export, and there probably won’t be until after the war. It's a trade deficit. That means that the average, say, Nevok mining firm right now is sitting on a ton of dollars, euros, and yuan that they’ve taken from the U.N. in payment, without much they can really spend it on. That makes Nevok credits worth way more compared to dollars right now. And the same goes for Fissans, Venlils, Zurulians… most of humanity’s allies, really.”

  The market’s ripe for currency arbitrage, frankly, said Luna, if you know the right angle and are willing to bet on humanity’s ultimate victory.

  We don’t have the funds for that, said Shadow. Keep it simpler. Lack of exports? Those could be our dollars, then, if we start exporting canned cocktails. How many Nevoks drank Garnet Orchards, again? Something on the order of all of them when they could get it?

  Rosi’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “Okay. That makes sense. But this number is a very large amount of Yotul credits. Shouldn’t we be subject to the same market forces as the Nevoks?”

  “There we go!” said Charmaine, sounding relieved to be back on more familiar ground. “Right! That’s because Leirn is the only other planet that’s also building up a huge-ass fleet right now. The older species already have fleets. The Yotuls don’t, so they’re in the same boat as we are, and it roughly evens out.”

  “That’s… neat,” said Rosi, still kinda staring goggle-eyed at the employment contract. “So how do I agree, exactly? I assume you’ll rescind the offer if I pour hot wax onto your holopad for me to stamp my seal or pawprint into…”

  David snorted. “Okay, not gonna lie, kinda cool that that’s still how they do things in your neck of the woods, but this one’s a bit less messy.” He pointed towards the bottom of the document. “Tap yes if you agree, then tap your ID card against the holopad to verify.”

  I had sincere doubts that Rosi could have done so faster if she’d tried.

  “Welcome aboard, then!” said David with a grin. He held his hand out.

  Rosi stared at it, confused.

  “Human expression that you have an accord,” I whispered. “You put your paw in his and move it up and down once or twice.”

  Rosi and David shook hands.

  “Alright, muffins are in the oven!” said Iris, striding back out of the kitchen. “I’ll get started on that chocolate amaretto cake in a moment, but uhhh… could I also get an idea of what I’d be making if I worked here?”

  David nodded. “Sure. I’m still gauging your skill, but it’ll probably be somewhere on the order of seventy to eighty percent or so of what I paid my previous Head Patissier. Just until you’re trained up more. He was an old seasoned veteran of the culinary industry, so it cost a bit to keep him around.” He tapped something out on his holopad and flipped it around. “Here’s what that number would look like.”

  Iris’s jaw dropped. “Holy shit!”

  Rosi pointed at Iris in confusion. “Wait, she’s from here. How is she subject to market forces?”

  David shook his head, but he was chuckling. “No, no, this one’s just about how haute cuisine pays better than a coffee shop.”