“Rick Father needs us,” James said, his tentacles curling.
“He needs us to avoid getting arrested for hurting someone.”
James trumpeted. The boys had reached adolescence if they were using language like that.
Since James seemed to know where he was going, Max tried to distract himself by watching the traffic. Other cars were doing the same thing James had, bumping onto theraised walkway without waiting for it to clear. This would be a stressful place to take an afternoon stroll. Weirder still, the sidewalk was interrupted by random structures that looked like they had sprouted without rhyme or reason or any input from city planning. There was a curved lattice along one stretch and a metal pergola with a wavy roof along another. The sidewalk rose to create bridges for the canals before dropping into sunken holes that didn’t make any sense at all.
The spaceport had felt logical, but this was random and alien and it scared the shit out of Max because he didn’t know how to reason with officials that built something this bizarre.
“This looks nothing like the two spaceports I visited,” Max muttered.
“Not Hidden ones are symmetrical orifices of excrement,” James said.
“Language.” Max gave his middle son a look he’d learned from his own mother. James blew him a raspberry.
“We arrive at place of government of stupid people in two minutes,” James said.
“Don’t insult people to their face,” Max warned.
James glurbled. “All government people. One face. Max Father amuses, but I will hide insults and whisper when they glide around corner.”
“That’s not... are you insulting my English?” Max was slightly offended, but the car pulled up outside a tower that had the most obnoxious iridescent windows Max had ever seen. It looked like a wet oil spill reflecting the morning sun on a carrier. Technically he shouldn’t have known what that looked like, but deck crews could get a little lazy sometimes.
James flowed out of his side of the vehicle. The car was so low and the sidewalk so uneven that Max stumbled his way to the building like a drunk man. It wasn’t the first impressionMax wanted to make, but James was moving too fast for him to regain his balance or his dignity.
The entrance was an irregular arch with edges that looked like it had been carved from solid stone. When James charged forward, glass doors pivoted up, parting in the middle and disappearing into a hidden pocket. James was tiny compared to the other Hidden ones and Max rushed forward before he lost sight of his idiot son.
The other Hidden ones largely ignored James, but as Max appeared, they all shrank down, their walking tentacles curling in distress and all the other tentacles tucking under their bulbous heads. One Hidden one even dropped a pile of plasticy cases and they clattered to the floor as his tentacles turned into tight little knots.
Max had been conditioned to care about the curly-fry status of tentacles because he felt more guilty and shitty with every step, even though he knew the scene was objectively funny. Dozens or maybe even a hundred adults all shrank down to child-sizes like a magic trick. Hell, James was now the tallest Hidden one in the lobby.
“Information kiosk,” James shouted as he reached the center of the lobby where a light shone on an octagonal shape that reminded Max of the control room of the ship.
A holographic pillar flickered into existence, and James waved a tentacle through it, poking at particular parts. When Max caught up, he could see the words speeding past, but the computer only translated spoken language, so he couldn’t read any of it.
“This way,” James said as he speared a purple square near the bottom of the holographic control panel. The hologram flickered and vanished.
Hidden ones fled as they walked the lobby. James didn't seem to notice the horror with which they were being watched,and Max didn't care. He was more concerned about the stress that specific Hidden ones might be causing his husband.
James led them to a platform that looked like the old-fashioned merry-go-rounds with their metal handles and center support poles. James climbed aboard and curled a half dozen tentacles around the various supports. “Max Father hold tightly,” James said.
The next platform had three Hidden ones; it took off from its starting position, and take off was the absolute best description because the elevator launched like a rocket. Deciding he didn't care about dignity, Max sat on the floor and wrapped his legs and arms around the center pole that supported the curved struts. If Max hadn’t been a fighter pilot with specific training in withstanding G forces, he might have passed out when the lift took off. As it was, he came dangerously close to losing his grip, and at that point he would have been dashed to pieces in an open elevator shaft.
Not only did Max have a thing against dying young, but he didn’t want to die in a pointless accident caused by Hidden ones’ inability to recognize danger. It was undignified to have pulped bits of your body scraped off the floor. He refused to do it.
Luckily, the lift slowed before they reached their destination. Max was almost certain that if it had stopped as quickly as it'd taken off, he would have suffered traumatic brain injury and whiplash.
The moment the elevator floor lined up with the actual floor of their destination, James slid right off it, but Max continued to cling to his support as he tried to get his terror and his roiling stomach under control.
“Is Max Father damaged?” James asked
“I'm fine,” Max lied. He surreptitiously checked to see if he had pissed his pants. Luckily, he hadn’t, so he forced his arms touncurl from the support and stood on shaky legs. “What floor are we on?”
James did a quarter spin and twisted a couple of his tentacles in a way that Max had learned to associate with confusion. “We are on this floor. You can stand on it.” James used his longest arm tentacle to pat the floor helpfully.
Max took a shaky step forward and then another, slightly surprised that his knees were still holding his weight.
“Clarify. For humans, ‘floor’ can designate how high in a tower we are. The first floor aligns with the ground, then we number each layer of living space to show how high we've gone so the living structure above the first floor is called the second floor and then the third and fourth and fifth and we count until the highest part of the tower is the highest number.” Max was almost embarrassed about how nerdy he’d gotten in his ability to give detailed definitions.
