Memory Transcription Subject: Chiri Garnet, Gojid Bartender

  Date [standardized human time]: November 19, 2136

  Well, the evening I'd been planning to spend quietly with David was off the rails entirely. We’d have to finish the movie some other night at this rate. Still, it wasn’t a total wash! I was getting to taste-test his gourmet dishes for the first time, and our plot to hire another alien was moving forward already. Rosi was quite possibly the only unemployed herbivore with previous food service experience in Brooklyn, and she’d practically delivered herself right to our doorstep. We just had to convince her that working for a flesh-devouring human on the savage predator homeworld was a great idea with no downsides, and which would lead, ultimately, to new horizons of self-fulfillment for her. Shouldn’t be too hard. I mean, I made the right choice, so why wouldn’t she?

  Chiri… said Shadow, pinching the bridge of her snout in exasperation, you didn’t make a choice, you had a psychotic break.

  And an existential crisis, Luna added, unhelpfully.

  Oh come on, I still made a decision! On the beach, remember?

  That was like a day later, said Shadow, after David had already talked you down from trying to do anything evil and stupid, like fighting a fish with your bare claws.

  More to the point, said Luna, you had a reason to abandon Federation doctrine. Rosi doesn’t. Yotuls aren’t omnivores. She doesn’t have a predatory side to embrace. In fact, it feels a lot like she’s got plenty of reasons to want to stay indoctrinated.

  So how do we convert her? I tried offering her a little common herd empathy, David tried waving around his terrible word-knives, and nothing’s working! She’s just digging her heels in and being stubborn!

  Shadow rubbed her eyes. I’m not seeing a solution this second. Frankly, I’m getting worried that we’re missing something bigger-picture.

  David’s up to something, though, Luna pointed out. Stick with social predator pack tactic protocols and follow his lead until we see an opening.

  I took a long sip of the brown ale I’d poured for myself, and settled into pinning one eye on David and one on our Yotul guest. Poor David with his forward-facing eyes had to keep pivoting his gaze back and forth between Rosi and I as he decided which words would help the most here.

  Wait, why is he looking at us? Shadow wondered, suspicious. What’s he plotting?

  We’re missing something bigger-picture, Luna echoed.

  “So there’s this school of thought on human masculinity,” David began, “which, now that I think about it, is probably a bit closer to this idea you have of ‘being a Predator’ than anything I’ve been doing personally. Aggression, fighting for dominance, hunting, eating meat--”

  “See?” said Rosi, interrupting. “There’s your real instincts coming out.”

  David shook his head. “No, see, if those were my real instincts, I wouldn’t need a social movement to encourage me to indulge. I’d just want to.”

  So… so wait, do we need to be more masculine? Luna wondered. Or is he saying we’re exempt from acting bloodthirsty because we’re female?

  I really don’t think that’s where he’s going with this, said Shadow.

  “Where are you going with this?” I asked David, skipping past my little thought daemons’ attempts to analyze their way out of a wet paper bag.

  “Right,” said David. “So the short version is, in this line of thinking, you’re not a real man unless you engage in this long list of ‘manly’ social behaviors, and avoid ‘unmanly’ behaviors. Anger and aggression are okay, but showing emotional vulnerability or crying is forbidden. You're expected to have a family but never care for them, not openly. You can drink beer and whisky, but not wine or fruity cocktails. You can grill meat, but you can't cook full meals in the kitchen, and God help you if you ever dare to do something as womanly as baking yourself some muffins. Some people even act like you're unmanly if you put too much focus into self-grooming.”

  I scrunched my face up in confusion. “But you spend most of your time in the kitchen. You hardly follow any of those rules at all!”

  David shrugged. “I realized a long time ago that the only ironclad rule of masculinity I needed was reserving the right to dismiss the opinions of anyone who tells me how to be a man.”

  “How very un-herd-minded of you,” said Rosi dryly.

  “Yes, yes, individualism is predatory, I'm getting to that,” said David. He nodded towards the brown ale I'd been sipping at, and I poured him one of his own as he continued. “So even moreso than merely following the ‘rules of masculinity’, such as they are, it's essential for a man to follow them loudly, publicly, and often. It’s not even really about the list of behaviors, is the thing. It’s performative. You have to showcase your masculinity, or you lose it in the eyes of your peers. Like, your social status as ‘manly’ goes away unless it’s constantly maintained and defended.” David rubbed his eyes. “That’s why it’s called performative masculinity, or even fragile masculinity. Because the public persona you have to cultivate to remain masculine is intrinsically fragile. It can break.”

  I drummed my claws on the bartop and rolled the idea around in my head.

  “...what happens when it breaks?” asked Rosi, squinting in suspicion.

  David shrugged. “Well, if all the other people around you also follow this school of thought… you become an outcast. Total social pariah. You either tuck your tail and hide away in shame, or you double-down and escalate. Get even angrier, get even more performative. Showcase how manly you are even harder.” He sighed, and took a sip of his beer. “But I digress. The point is, the rules of masculinity might be unique to this school of thought, but the underlying performative principles? Most of those apply to other types of groups and ideologies as well. Anywhere there’s some kind of winnable (and loseable) social status attached to certain behavior patterns. Religious groups where people pray louder and in public to show off their piety, media franchises where you’re not a ‘real fan’ unless you’ve got all the obscure parts memorized, and so on.”

  David stopped talking and stared at us, hoping for a reaction.

  Shit, what’s the connection we’re supposed to make here? asked Shadow, searching analytically. Some other social group, but which one?

  All the masculine traits he mentioned were predatory, said Luna, searching intuitively. So clearly he’s referring to…

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  “The Arxur,” I said, suddenly piecing it together. “You’re saying that’s why they are the way they are. It’s not something intrinsic to predators, or to the Arxur species, but it’s a part of Arxur culture. Performative cruelty, reinforced by social pressures.”

  David’s head whipped around, stunned. “That was… not the breakthrough I was driving towards tonight, but I’m still very glad you had it.” He blinked, and tried to reset. “I mean, yes. I don’t know enough about Arxur society to say for certain, but that’s how a number of comparable movements on Earth have worked. From the Nazis to the Khmer Rouge, party insiders competed to be absolute bastards to party outsiders, to perceived enemies, and even to each other if they weren’t being performatively passionate enough about their ideology. It’s very plausible that any Arxur who showed compassion for each other, let alone for prey species, would lose enough status to be shunned, mocked, or killed by their peers.”

  That’s sad, said Luna.

  Villains with tragic backstories are still villains, said Shadow. Remain vigilant.

  But if the Arxur are only evil due to social pressures, then this opens up the possibility of a good Arxur! Luna pointed out.

  Shadow shook her head. Theoretical speculation at best. In practice, all Arxur remain evil. Predators with no prey side to soften them. They’re not like humans. They’re not like us.

  Luna said nothing, but looked pensive and unsatisfied with Shadow’s conclusions.

  Rosi’s paw shot up. “Sorry, point of order? There are political movements on Earth comparable to the Arxur?!”

  “Dunno what to tell you,” David said with a tired sigh. “Humans are a contentious species. More to the point, though, once social movements like I’ve been describing get going, those movements tend to maintain and build upon their own momentum, regardless of why they originally formed, and regardless of who formed them.” He stared at Rosi and I pointedly. “And regardless of which species have joined them.”

  I was still mulling over the Arxur problem, so Rosi got to the new point first.

  “The Federation,” said the Yotul woman, darkly. “You’re saying Federation doctrine is self-sustaining, but ultimately performative.”

  I recoiled in surprise. Structurally, sure, that was where David had to have been going with this, but did it hold up?

  Obviously not, said Shadow immediately. I just… give me a minute to figure out why.

  Luna mulled it over. I mean… eating cheese and fake meat, dating a predator, being this assertive… we’d be in a Predator Disease Facility if we acted like this at home.

  That’s not self-reinforcing, though! shouted Shadow. That’s the government acting for everyone’s safety. Right?

  The difference between a social movement and a government is a question of scale and legitimacy, Luna observed.

  Governments are made of people, sure, fine, whatever, muttered Shadow. Whoever it is that’s locking people in PD Facilities, they’re still doing it for good reasons. We have to put the dangerous people away and fix them.

  …Are we dangerous? Luna asked, and Shadow didn’t have an answer.

  “Look, Rosi, you mentioned herdmindedness earlier?” said David. “Under Federation ideology, is there a proper way for an herbivore to act?”

  “Of course,” Rosi said, looking at David like he was being dumb. “A proper herbivore acts as a part of the herd, selflessly helpful but never a burden. Herbivores trust each other, and remain vigilant to predatory deceptions.”

  “Big showy displays of public charity, then?” David asked, speculating.

  Rosi rolled her eyes. “I suppose, from time to time.”

  Big displays of public charity? Our family’s old money, Luna pointed out, and our species is pretty well-known for our military service. Dad used to love boasting about everything we did for the Federation…

  “And there are behaviors that are unpreylike as well?” David pressed.

  I popped the second croquette into my mouth. It was the only one I’d tasted before, the odd cross between a human falafel and a Gojid dish called Liar’s Stiplet, which was similar, but made from crushed mushrooms instead of crushed beans. This one had both! It was crispy on the outside, and moist yet crumbly on the inside, and oh so savory. A little puddle of a green sauce added some spicy heat, and some zesty herbal notes to mellow the oiliness. “Caring too much about food is predatory,” I said, grinning happily at the taste of home, and wickedly at my Terran indulgences. “Even herbivorous food. It’s predatory to let your hunger control your behavior.”

  Rosi stared at her croquette while wearing The Picky Eater Face, which evidently transcended species. It was a look of utter disgust tinged with scorn and a dash of misery, like someone was expecting you to eat a turd, and wouldn’t drop the subject until you’d at least tried one little bite.

  Wait, don’t marsupials… Luna began, but Shadow and I shushed her. We didn’t know, and it would be rude to speculate, or to perpetuate stereotypes.

  Still, Rosi was a small woman who was half a beer in, and if there was one thing I knew about drinking, it was the inexorable temptation towards good fried food that it inspired in the drinker. No one could fight it, and Rosi was no exception. I watched her nibble at it delicately, from a distance, trying her hardest to use the length of her snout to keep it as far from her eyes as possible, but the moment it touched her tongue, she had to stifle a soft noise deep in her throat, a bit like a moan or a purr. She devoured the rest of the crispy mouthful hungrily, licked her lips, and eyed up the last of the three croquettes like it was her archnemesis plotting against her. “As a good herbivore, you’re not supposed to go off your own,” Rosi muttered in a moment of sullen self-reflection. “Or show anger. Or throw yourself into imminent peril by dining in a predator’s den.”

  “And what happens if you violate the rules of performative herbivory?” David asked.

  “Your friends and family shun you,” Rosi said quietly. “In the worst cases, you get sent to a Predator Disease facility until you’re cured.”

  David nodded. “Reported to the secret police,” he said, with the cadence of repetition. “Imprisoned and tortured until you stop disagreeing with the regime’s ideology.”

  Rosi looked back up at him in a fury. “That’s not what happens! It’s for our own good!”

  Isn’t that what Shadow was trying to say? Luna asked, quizzically.

  It is for our own good! Shadow insisted. Just because we’re a predator now doesn’t mean that’s not the right choice for pure prey like Rosi!

  “It’s for medicinal purposes,” I tried to explain to David, more calmly. “It’s how we keep our crime rate down, remember? I might not be a part of the Federation anymore, but the way they do things is the best way for prey to live.”

  David looked at me, confused. “Wait, I thought we were on the same page here.”

  I shook my head. “I thought we were just trying to convince Rosi that life on Earth works a bit differently. You’re going off and saying the way people live in the Federation is like some kind of… harmful and performative social movement. It’s not. It’s the best way to live on Venlil Prime, the Cradle, or Leirn. We’re just not on those planets, and we’re not living solely amongst prey.” I put my paw on Rosi’s again, and smiled. “Predators and prey living together isn’t really covered by Federation doctrine. We just need some new ideals that handle this edge case!”

  David’s forehead hit the bar as he slumped over in exhausted frustration. “Chiri… no. This herdmindedness just isn’t a healthy or natural way to live at all. That’s why it’s so rigorously enforced and maintained. By its citizens through performative self-reinforcing social behaviors, and by the government, jailing dissidents and torturing them until they stop disagreeing with the ideology espoused by its citizens.”

  I shook my head. “No, David, you’re not getting it. Prey are different from Predators, and they have to live differently. We’re just trying to get Rosi to lighten up a bit while she’s on Earth, specifically.”

  “I’m not doing that,” Rosi said, balking. “Predators are evil. Prey are good. I refuse to ‘lighten up’ on the source of all evil in the universe.”

  “Yes, yes, we all know predators are evil,” I began, though I lost the thread for a moment as David choked on his beer, “but the rules are a little more nuanced than that, what with our new human allies, and with the existence of omnivores, who are kind of prey and kind of predators. That’s why I had to choose a new path here on Earth!”

  David shook his head, and drank his beer with an offended twist to his mouth. “Chiri… if you’re still buying into the whole ‘predators versus prey’ nonsense, then it doesn’t sound like you’ve made a new choice at all. You’ve just joined the Endless Battle Between Good and Evil on the side of Evil.”

  No, wait, hang on… Shadow started, but Luna was having none of it.

  We didn't make a choice, Luna echoed, cackling in the moonlight. We had a psychotic break.

  And an existential crisis, Shadow repeated with a defeated sigh.