Well, it's where those Terran scientists landed, when we didn't know that any life existed on your planet—we are a well-positioned trade city, west of Syrtus Major, under the umbrella of the Crown Colony. So we are familiar with your kind, though some things do not... change, easily.
[ it's as if you're watching a scene play out in real time, overlaying the real world:
A girl with long, silvery hair accenting her bronze skin sits across a table at a restaurant from a slightly older man—handsome, in a scholarly sort of way, with wavy brown hair, spectacles, and a distinguished sort of bearing. He looks completely at ease, while her face betrays a hint of discomfort—she doesn’t look like she quite likes her tightly-fitted dress, and she looks down at her plate a little worried.
“Don’t be shy,” says the man, gesturing at the plate. “It’s my treat. You’ve never had steak before, have you?”
When she speaks, her words come out heavily accented—slow, drawn-out, the vowels a bit off. “It’s not that—you aaaare qu—er, very generous, but we… don’t eat with those outside our kiima.”
“You mean family, ‘Chaana.”
Her mouth twists slightly. “I know what that word means, and it doesn’t translate like that.”
He shrugs. “If you say so. I just know you’re frustrated with all the traditionalists—isn’t that why you came out here? So you should get to enjoy things like this. Who’s here to see it but we Terrans, who find this entirely normal?”
“There’s tradition and then there’s tradition,” she says, but eventually after bickering back and forth, she’s convinced to try it.
“So?” he asks. “Wasn’t it worth it?”
She chews, thoughtfully. “I suppose I’ll see. After all, the reason I protested was because this is a traditional Martian proposal of marriage. I thought you knew that, Mr. Anthropologist.”
He sputters, alarmed—but she grins. “It’s a joke. We tell jokes.”
He laughs, a little uncomfortably, and they go on chatting—though distracted, he doesn’t notice she’s pushed her plate to the side and leaves it further untouched.
And then it fades, and you're back in the busy ballroom. ]
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[ they slap their palms against their thighs, once, to underscore that, looking agitated. ]
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Something you shouldn't do?
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Yes! Taboo, improper, inappropriate. A problem, to be rectified. You understand.
[ you have learned one (1) Martian word. ]
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...where you from, dude? Your accent's real close to someone I know.
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If only it were so simple, young one.
[ and they snap into, curiously, a perfect British accent for the next line. ]
Some people do not want to learn, but when they hold the power, is it really a choice?
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Are they, like... in control or something?
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...I'm still not sure. It is difficult, to run two rivers parallel into one. Though I do not know if I would go so far as First-Keeper Naarabot.
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Are they, like... famous?
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[ they lower their voice a touch. ]
Well, she's the leader of the rebellion, there, too, so she's sort of a... topic of conversation, right now.
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—or maybe that she's a hero, or a freedom fighter. Other British colonies are already on the edge of open rebellion, even on Earth, so...
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What do you think?
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I personally think that terms like "hero" and "villain" aren't very useful, except in propaganda, where they're very useful.
I wonder if her sort of ideals can really survive in this world.
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Or so it seems to me. We all make our own decisions, but those who grasp with both hands have none to defend themselves.
But—perhaps I have taken up too much of your time.
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Anyways, I hope the rest of your night goes better than it was back there.
1/2
[ ...and then they turn and walk away, and... ]
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[Guess that was one of the memories that got mentioned.]
[He looks after the person for a moment - then shrugs and heads off, back into the dining room and toward the kitchen.]
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