The Inhuman Citizen Integration Project

“You failed to fill out the paperwork for the requisition of a soul. I’m afraid you’ll have to make do without.”

“I didn’t know there was paperwork.”

“You would have known if you attended the Social Metaphysics seminar on Friday.”

“I was out shedding my carapace.”

“Then you should have taken a pamphlet from the front desk.”

I sat back, defeated. There was nothing I could do against a bureaucrat. Oh, well, at least he had been fairly nice to me, unusually so for an official in the Project. They’re usually a bit stuffy, you know? I mean, I’ve always been a stickler for the rules, but they follow them religiously.

While I was a little bit miffed about not getting a soul (lovely shiny little things, I’ve always thought they looked rather neat), I was still pretty excited about leaving for the city, and integrating myself with the humans. I had been practicing rather hard for the last few months, and had graduated with honors in Paperwork and Applied Mathematics, necessary tools for surviving with humans, I’m told. I had even learned how to compose haikus, which means I am ready for the intricacies of human conversation.

Oh, how could I forget myself? I’ve got to introduce this document first, of course. My name is likely on the front cover of the folder, so you already know that. You also already likely know that this document was typed up for the Inhuman Citizen Integration Project, as a kind of record as to my thoughts, my feelings, and generally how well I am doing- and how well you can do here too! I’ve been instructed to let you know everything that happened to me over my first week, so that you can learn from what I did! The Project will likely add a couple of notes here and there, but most of this is just my experience. I’m so excited to live amongst the humans!

As for my species, I’m a Carapaceous Bug-Thing, as it says on my birth certificate. This makes it a bit hard for me to blend in amongst the humans, unlike a couple of my friends, but I’ve been practicing my stoop so that I only appear to be around 2 lengths¹ when standing, a pitiable height. I’ve also been instructed in how to walk bipedally for long stretches of time, as opposed to defaulting to a crawling mode of locomotion once I no longer need to reach high objects. I have to say, it’s been an interesting experience. My new Mask is also neat, as it is an interesting feeling to look into a puddle of dirty water mirror (wonderful things, but I have to get used to them!) and see a human face looking back. The new models even have functioning eyes (eyes! not just the little holes that they could see your ocelli through!) and neat little compartments for my antennae to fold into. It’s more comfortable than you would think.

The bureaucrat looked up from my paperwork, and handed me a small briefcase, bowing to me.

“Other than forgetting your soul, you’ve done all three hundred and twenty six pages here, so you’re good to go.”

I bowed back. “Thank you. I’ll be seeing you tomorrow?”

He nodded. “And every Midnight for the next week. Now get on your way, the train is waiting.”

I shambled out of that room more happily than I had ever shambled before. I made sure to straighten up before I got onto the train, as I always needed a bit more practice with proper posture. It was thirty minutes after Midnight, when the Midnight Train goes back to the city; goes out thirty minutes before, goes back, waits, goes back thirty minutes after, then returns to its nest over here. (The fact that it does not go out at exactly Midnight mildly irks me.)

In the pale phosphorescence of the streetlamps, the train gleamed beetle-black and carapaceous, vast beast and marvel of engineering. Windows glistened, filmy and translucent, fogged over and misty from temperature changes, with dim and indistinct shapes inside.

I heard the soft but heavy chugging, breathing, heartbeat of the locomotive, a slow and subtle rhythm. I was not quite used to it, as I rarely went to the city- the last time was on a field trip back when I was a little larva, where I hid in a backpack carried by a more humanoid child-entity. It was still less alien than the bright lights and loud noises it led to- but I had gone through exposure therapy for that, so I was well prepared.

With one final act of deliberation, I stepped through the door.

The floor of the Midnight Train was soft and plush, a red, carpet-like covering that made the interior quiet. A couple lamps had been placed throughout, casting a soft light on everything. I sat down on the end of the car I was in, a length away from somebody reading a newspaper. Oddly, it seemed to be from the city. Paid to pay attention to the actions of the locals, I supposed. I didn’t look at him that much.

A signal sounded, a high pitched hisssss before the train started moving, with the faint rumbling of its processes vastly accelerated beyond the dormant state. Other than the blur of the scenery beyond the windows, you could hardly tell that we were moving- the action of thousands of feet moving us forwards was barely felt.

The journey to the city was quiet, as not many had boarded the train tonight. I looked out a window at the darkness beyond- nothing was visible without. I spent my few minutes on there excitedly wondering what my life would be like.

Another high pitched hisssss was released, and the doors opened with a click. I stepped outside as the warm air flooded into the car, and walked over to a nearby street lamp and bench. I pulled out a map of the city, trying to orient myself. I had already memorized all the routes I would need here (home to work, work to store, store to home, home to train), but I wanted to make sure that I didn’t get lost.

The city was dark and quiet, and the stars were dimly visible. I put down my map to look at them some more. Stars are really quite beautiful, and even as I type this I am looking out my window at the night sky.

I successfully navigated to my apartment. It had been procured by the Project, which was rather nice of them, and as long as I sent them a good chunk of my monthly income they would handle the paying of it, with some of the money deducted to pay for the Project itself.

I fumbled with my keys for a while before managing to unlock it. The doors are dryer here, and harder to open.

My room was small and cramped, thankfully. Most people here seem to like wide open spaces, but I can’t imagine spending all day inside such an unsheltered area. It doesn’t seem safe.

There was a small desk, with a small green-shaded lamp beside it- it cast a flickering green light over the gray wallpaper once I turned it on. A small bed was in the corner of the room across from it, and there was a kitchenette in another. A wooden door leading to a bathroom was beside it.

I rummaged through a small cabinet for some bedsheets, and carefully made my bed as I had been taught.

I must admit, I gave into my habits that night. After carefully smoothing out all the wrinkles from the blankets and the pillows, I drew the curtains, locked the door, and crawled underneath the bed.

It got my suit a little dusty, but that was alright. Nothing beats comfort in your own home.

I went to work the following morning, apprehensive but excited to act like a regular human being. I had heard much of my new job, and had received extensive training for it, but the prospect of being around humans all day was daunting. I was going to be a human engineer-

I had already been a regular engineer before, so minimal training for that specific part of my job was needed, and much of what training I had received was more along the lines of “this is not something that you should talk to the humans about”. Oh, it was still scary- but there was nothing I could do about it, so I walked in, in a very normal manner with a very normal walk.

I’m quite proud of my walk. My arms swing the normal amount, as described in the Manual for Mimetic Locomotion, and my posture is only slightly off. It’s barely noticeable.

I checked in at the desk, unquestioned, which was a relief, and moved on to my cubicle. I was going to perform some calculation! I had been looking forward to this part. It was bound to be entertaining! I am so very happy that I am doing this, and highly recommend it! I even managed to dim the lamp I had been provided, making it rather cozy for me.

Correction: I just remember that I got yelled at a bit for doing that. You might not want to dim your lamp, because in my experience doing it gets you yelled at. It was not a nice experience. My supervisor opened his mouth so very wide, so very wide that you could see his teeth. I suppose I have teeth now. I wonder if it would be suspicious to get them removed. Balding men sometimes get their hair removed, so maybe it would not be alarming for me to claim that I was losing my teeth and wanted them removed.

Other than that, I had a nice working experience where I did human work and held a human job. Excellent.

I did have one minor slip, though, which I managed to correct. I had decided to talk with a coworker, and you know how that goes.

“Greetings, coworker, how goes this beautiful, very bright day?” I asked, with normal human emotion and excitement as expected when asking someone about their day.

He looked outside- it was mildly cloudy, I remember, which I guess is not very bright for over here? I don’t know, but he did seem confused. I should be careful when conversing about the weather in the future.

“Hi?”

“Hi, hello, yes, it is good to see you… again,” I said. “Hello, stranger.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, squinting at me, “but have we met?”

“No?”

He blinked. I learned later that his name was Roger. That doesn’t have anything to do with him being a Roger. I’m sorry. At least he could blink.

“Who are you exactly?”

I pointed to my badge of identification (which I had polished before going to work) and informed him of my cover name. I didn’t say it was my cover name, of course. That would be silly.

He looked even more incredulous than before.

“John Smith,” I repeated.

I was very proud of the name. After doing some research, I found that John was a very common first name, and Smith was a very common last name, so I picked them to not arouse suspicion. I would suggest that you pick the same name when you come to this city. It is a good name.

He leaned forwards to look at my nametag. He looked back up at me.

“You know what, sure. I have better things to do than worry about this.”

“Oh? Are you worrying?” I inquired.

“Uh, not really. I… guess I’ll be going.”

“Be gone, then!”, I said, cheerfully.

A warning to all you little greenhorns: do not engage in conversation unless necessary! It can be dangerous, little tyke. Little whelp. Little novice. Little tender-footed one. Avoid if possible, until you are good at talking, like me.

I finished the work I had been given very quickly, so I sat in my chair and stared into space, and caught myself nearly reciting the chants while staring at a wall calendar. Later on, my supervisor came and checked to make sure that I was working, but I told him that I had already finished. He asked me to read through all the pages, not just the first, since it was supposed to take a week, but I had already done everything, so I decided to not bring it up and just walk around the workplace, occasionally hiding from him when he walked by. I didn’t want to talk about already having it done, which seemed like an unnecessary talking risk with an employer. Instead, I decided that I would “build interpersonal connections through non-intensive communication”, as delineated in the General Manual.

I walked into a random cubicle, leaned near my esteemed coworker’s head, and tapped him on the shoulder.

Unpredictably, he screamed.

I don’t know why people do that. In any case, I became very alarmed and did the only reasonable thing.

I clapped a hand over his mouth to make him stop screaming.

Attempting to calm him, I lifted him up with my other hand, and made the quiet clicking noises that humans make to calm each other. I attempted to reach for my nametag before I realized that this form only has two hands. I considered sitting down for a moment and using my feet, but that seemed suspicious. Human beings do not use their feet to hold things, except for socks. They hold socks. I nervously checked to make sure that I was wearing socks before I realized that the man I was holding was biting down quite hard on my hand. I think a couple of my tarsi² were bent out of shape. Realizing this, I released a (thankfully undetectable to humans) pain pheromone, and placed him gently down back into his seat. His hair had gotten bent out of shape (does hair get bent?), so I gently patted it back. I then pointed out my nametag and that I was a coworker, before I pulled my hand away from his mouth.

He looked up and swore. I reminded him that swearing was not allowed in the workplace. He swore again, and looked at how my fingers were bent about thirty degrees back from their normal position.

“You’re that ‘John Smith’ fellow, aren’t you?”

I nodded, proudly. It seemed like I was becoming familiar and well known.

He swore again. He seemed slightly dazed. I looked around for water to splash on him, but sadly there was none.

“Why on earth did you do that?”

I stared at him for a moment, forgetting how to blink. “You were screaming?”

“Well, I figured that, but- look, can you just go? I have a problem I’m working with and I’m going to have to request extra time if work continues at this rate and- hey! What are you doing?’

I had started to leaf through the papers on his desk, in a helping manner. Turning away from him, I scrawled a couple of things onto the paper, and crossed a couple things out.

“Hey, stop that!”

I ignored him for a couple more seconds, and then turned back to him. “Is this what you needed done?”

He snatched it away, and started poring over it, muttering about losing his work before he suddenly stopped.

“What is this?”

“Part of the problem you were working on?”

“No, this- that was the whole problem. It- wait, let me check if that works.”

He pulled out a mechanical calculator and started crunching numbers. I idly hummed for a couple minutes before he finished and looked up at me.

“Thank you?” he asked, mouth agape, eyes still glancing over his documents.

“You are welcome,” I said, a bit unsure about his reaction. “Any time. While I’m at work, of course.”

“Oh, and, uh, sorry about your fingers. You did try to gag me, though.” He looked at my hand, which was still rather bent out of shape. Noticing this, I pushed my fingers back into place with a succession of loud crunching noises.

He turned only slightly paler.

“Well, goodbye, fellow coworker. Anytime you need help, just ask. We’re only human. Ahahahaha.” I stepped back towards the door.

“Ha,” he said, staring back at the page.

“Ahahahaha.”

I am so good at laughing.

I got quite a few requests for help that afternoon. New friends were lined up at my cubicle asking for me to take a quick glance at their work, give them a bit of help. I am so happy to be appreciated. I am so good at blending in amongst the humans.

I went home that day with much content. It would be a little while before I had to buy groceries, so I didn’t have to worry about that. All that I had to do was go home and sit in my metal folding chair by my desk and stare at the gray wallpaper. How blissful.

Forty-five minutes before Midnight, I started off towards where the Midnight Train would be stopping. It was a bit of a complicated timetable, a different place every night, but thankfully all of them this week were within easy walking distance from my house. I made quick time, and didn’t even cheat by extending my legs all the way. I settled into the Train quite comfortably- the subtle, salty air within was more familiar and home-like than my new nest. It felt nice to be back around normal things again, even if I had never thought the Train that ordinary before. I settled down into the pliant, fleshy surface of the benches lining the walls, and enjoyed the cool air and sickly-sweet aroma.

The usual hissss, the usual soft pounding of a thousand legs, the usual click of doors and the second hissss as I emerged into the silent chill of my native grounds. I walked slowly to the bureaucrat’s office, luxuriating in my surroundings- it was nice to be back, even if only for a little while.

After navigating through the labyrinthine halls of the Cathedral of Records, I managed to find his office. He was kneeling at his desk, looking up at a small statuette made of pages of old documents, made of deceased leaves fallen from ancient trees of long forgotten rules and regulations. Its chest was pierced by a fountain pen, smeared with black ink. Nothing unusual, honestly- I sometimes forget that about these bureaucrat types.

He turned, pallid face towards me now, and nodded.

“How was your first day?”

“It went pretty well. Didn’t get found out.”

He nodded. “Fitting in?”

“Quite well, I must say.”

He sat back. “I expect to have your report next week, you know. Tea?” he asked, pointing to a kettle in the corner. I shook my head.

We sat there in silence for a little while. He continued contemplating the statuette, while I stared out the windows into the darkness beyond. I have to say, it was nice to be back, even if the office was rather stuffy. I took the opportunity to remove my Mask and stretch. It was a bit cramped in that room for stretching to my full extent, but it served fairly well.

“Well, that’s our time. See you tomorrow.” He bowed, as did I, and I reached for my mask as I started to crawl out the door.

“Goodbye, Mr. Coronach,” I said, and picked up my papers.

Unexpectedly, he turned. “Wait.”

“What is it?”, I said, craning my head around.

“I’ve got a little something for you. Here,” he said, proffering a small object in wrapping paper.

Carefully, I unwrapped it. It was a tongue.

“A tongue?” I said, dumbly, like someone who didn’t really know what a tongue was. I knew, of course. Don’t be silly. I attended my Human Biology Classes.

I continued to stare at it with slowly mounting glee.

“A Genuine Imitation Human Tongue, Mark Three³. I thought you’d like it. Good at tasting things the human way, most of the time. Couple problems they need to work out. Still a useful thing to have.”

I gasped. “Thank you!,” I said, holding my tongue with great excitement. That is to say, I spoke, as I was holding my new tongue and the action of holding the imitation tongue is what is being referred to, not my nonexistent silence. I held the fake tongue, not my tongue (which was also fake, but you know what I mean).

But he had other things to do, other papers to file.

He paid me no heed, and by the time I left, still bursting with gratitude, he was staring at that statuette again. Funny people, these.

Once out of the cathedral, I managed to stretch fully. Being in a humanoid form for a whole day had been a bit claustrophobic. I had to compress again to get in the Train, though, and once in there I put my mask back on. The regular rhythm of running legs loping across the ground carried me back to the city. Once out, I looked at the stars again.

I have to say, I’m beginning to enjoy this place.