Her green eyes soften when I don’t answer right away. “It’s discreet and looks like jewelry. No one will think less of you for wearing it. And the Spire’s systems would record every activation, so if someone ignores your boundaries, it will be logged and Sovereign Rafe would see it immediately.”
“Am I going to be in trouble?” I wonder if I’m going to be blamed for guests touching me.
“No, of course not. I meant that the Sovereign will be upset that someone touched you despite the precautions he’s already taken.”
“I need a moment,” I say, steadier than I feel.
Lira nods sympathetically. “Take as long as you need.”
I leave my post to catch my breath in the ladies’ room.
Inside the pristine solitude of the staff restroom, I splash cold water on my face and stare at my reflection. The woman looking back at meseems both familiar and foreign. Still me, but in an alien uniform and in an alien hotel.
What do I look like to them?
I imagine the cutest kitten I’d ever seen and try to imagine how I would treat that animal. I would touch it without thinking twice. And I’d assume it wanted my attention unless it scratched me. But even then, I might have trouble taking the kitten seriously because of its cuteness on the blind premise that something so cute must want to be adored.
I splash more cold water on my face.
I am not an adorable kitten.
Perhaps I need claws, though.
When I return to reception, Lira is handling a crisis involving a Lyran diplomat's environmental requirements. I observe her, noting the subtle shifts in body language and tone as she addresses different species according to their rank. The complexity is dizzying.
“Sorry about that,” Lira says when the situation resolves. “Where were we?”
“Communication protocols.”
“Right. Your universal translator should be fully calibrated by now. It's programmed to automatically detect and translate all recognized languages.”
“All languages in the galaxy?”
“Allregisteredlanguages,” Lira clarifies. “This distinction is important as some languages don’t register….”
“What do you mean?” I ask, but then with horror, I begin to connect the dots with what Dr. Veil said about my translator allowing others to understand me. “You mean it won't translate what the human slaves say unless they have a translator like mine?”
“Companions,” Lira corrects me automatically. “Most galactic translators don't include human languages in order to maintain a clear distinctionbetween owner and?—”
“Slave.”
This time, Lira doesn't deny it. “As you know, your translator overrides most galactic translators so that you will always be understood. But you should know, some companions are conditioned to communicate differently.”
“Conditioned?”
“It's not something we discuss openly, but yes. Some trainers modify their companions' communication patterns deliberately. It's considered a specialty feature in certain markets.” Lira's discomfort is obvious. “I don't agree with it, but it's permitted under IGC regulations as a cultural practice. It’s one of the many laws that must be abolished now that humans are equal. And, Eve,” she says, catching my eye, “everyone working here believes you are equal.”
I want to mention Rae, but I hold back. There are always bullies.
“But there is always a learning curve to change,” Lira adds.
Before I can respond, two tall, insectoid beings with iridescent exoskeletons approach the desk. Lira greets them with the appropriate protocol, and I follow her lead.
As we handle their request, I notice the beings conversing quietly. My translator renders it into almost perfect English, but they assume I can't understand.
“The human seems adequately trained,” one comments. “Unusual to see Earth stock in service positions rather than naked with their legs spread.”
“A curiosity, no doubt,” the other replies. “Though I've heard their planet is considering a formal IGC application. Imagine, primitives who've barely mastered orbital travel applying for galactic recognition.”
