Sidra didn’t care much for waiting – not out in public, at least. Installed in a ship, she could’ve sat for hours – days, even – without needing much external input. But with no systems to monitor but her own, and no Linkings to keep her occupied, waiting was a deeply irritating way to spend time. However, this wait, she’d been assured, was worth it. She looked at the others standing in line with her – Pepper, Blue, dozens of strangers, all anticipating entry into the Aurora Pavilion. The never-ending night was thick with the sounds of sapient chatter, the smells of alcohol and varied kinds of smoke, the flicker of luminescent moths trying bravely to nip at open cups and sticky flasks. If the people around her minded the wait, they didn’t show it. This was a Shimmerquick party, and apparently, standing around doing nothing was a fair price to pay for what was about to happen.
Shimmerquick, the GC reference files had said, was a very old holiday. Long before the Aeluons achieved spaceflight, the celebration was one of the few en masse interactions between male and female villages. Back then, Shimmerquick lasted for over a tenday and had no spoken name, as the silent Aeluons had yet to encounter the alien practice of auditory language. But Aeluons had been an integrated species for over a millennium, and their traditions were no longer bound to a single planet. Though Shimmerquick was, at its core, a fertility festival created by a species with a storied history of difficulty in that department, it had become a popular shared tradition in many mixed colonies – Port Coriol included. As Pepper had put it: ‘There aren’t many species that don’t enjoy a big party, especially if its central theme is getting laid.’ Granted, Aeluons had a clear social distinction between recreational and procreative coupling, and Shimmerquick was much more a celebration of life and ancestry than of lust – but apparently that nuance was either lost on or of small consequence to others in attendance. Sidra knew her understanding of such things was limited, but it did seem that most species generally didn’t need much context as to why a party was happening.
Sidra eyed the line stretching far back beyond them. ‘This is one of the smaller celebrations?’ she asked.
‘Yeah.’ Blue nodded. ‘The, um, the ones on the light side are huge.’
‘They’re also a complete clusterfuck,’ Pepper added, ‘and entirely tourists. Everybody here’ – she pointed up and down the line – ‘either lives here or is with someone who does. I also know folks who run this place, which is a big bonus.’
‘We also th-thought an indoor venue would be more comfortable,’ Blue said, smiling at Sidra.
Sidra was a little embarrassed to realise he meant more comfortable for her, but she was grateful, too. This was her first holiday. She didn’t want to spoil the fun for Pepper and Blue by not having a good time herself.
As the line moved forward, Sidra picked up the first sign of an acquired multicultural tradition: music. A species without a sense of hearing had no need for a soundtrack, but clearly they’d gotten the memo that other people couldn’t imagine a party without it. Sidra enjoyed the thump of the drums, the jangle and swing laced through. She liked the patterns within the sounds, the way they made organics move.
The non-Aeluon celebrants they shared the line with were following their host species’ lead as well. With few exceptions, everyone arriving at the event was wearing at least one item in a shade of grey – a hue that, on an Aeluon, would make the colours on their ever-changing cheek patches stand out all the more. For other species, any sort of grey would do, but for Aeluons, more traditional rules were at play. Among their galactic neighbours, Aeluons used the usual set of male-female-neutral pronouns that any species would understand. But among themselves, they were a four-gendered society. At Shimmerquick, their clothing reflected this: black for those who produced eggs, white for those who fertilised them, dark grey for the shons, who cyclically shifted reproductive roles, and light grey for those who could do neither. It was striking to see such a delineated display in a species whose sexual dimorphism was relatively slight compared to other species, and whose apparel had little to no gender distinction on any other day.
Even though the clothing cues could not be missed, Sidra was glad she had downloaded additional social references before leaving home, as the latter two genders were impossible to distinguish through physical features alone. Shons changed reproductive function multiple times throughout a standard, and were always considered fully male or female, depending on the current situation. Calling a shon by a neutral pronoun was considered an insult, unless they were in the middle of a shift. Such terms were reserved for those too young, too old, or simply unable to procreate. As neutral adults of breeding age looked exactly like their fertile counterparts, they generally did not mind the assumptions of other species where gendered pronouns were concerned, but appreciated it when the correct terms were used. Despite knowing that the kit’s Human appearance would absolve her of any pronoun mishaps, Sidra appreciated the colour-coded clothing. She loathed the idea of getting such things wrong.
Sidra glanced down at what the kit was wearing: a top printed with white and grey triangles, a darker grey pair of trousers, and a close-cut jacket, to give the impression that dark side’s cold air affected her. Sidra’s picks, Pepper’s credits. Sidra had felt awkward about that, as she was beginning to feel about most purchases made for her benefit. Her hosts didn’t seem to mind in the slightest, but she wasn’t sure what she was providing them with in return, other than potential trouble.