At my most recent Problem Gambling Support Group meeting via Skype (the same one posted on here weekly) it was my turn to do a therapy session. This is my journey from starting gambling until now. I thought it would be worth sharing here as someone may get something from it. It is a bit of a long read.
My name is Mark and i’m a compulsive gambler. My last bet was April 2nd 2019. The day of April 2nd was a massive turning point in my life, it was the day I finally admitted to my long term partner, who is the mother of my two children, and to my parents that I was a compulsive gambler and needed help. The weekend prior was when I finally said to myself I’ve had enough, I had been betting for 14 years and it had beaten me so badly that I was a mess mentally and financially. Although no one knew that because I was an expert at hiding it.
I started gambling like almost anyone in the UK or Ireland, The Grand National. The one day of the year where it seems like every man, woman and child has a bet on. The biggest horse race in the world. That and those glorious holidays spent in Portrush playing the 2p machines (penny fall machines). I don’t for one second blame those experiences for my gambling problem, they are just my first memories of gambling. One really vivid memory I have of gambling was when I was begging my dad for the latest Official Playstation Magazine, the one with the demo disc, and he was just sitting down to watch England play against someone and said to me “if Paul Scholes scores the first goal I will get you the magazine.” Now, I know for a fact win or lose my Dad would have gotten me the magazine, he just said that so I would give him peace to watch the match. Well I remember watching the game with him hoping with all my might Paul Scholes would score 1st and he did. That adrenaline rush, even at a young age (I was 13 years old at most I would say) was unbelievable. Now, again, I am not blaming that for my gambling addiction at all, it is just one of my first vivid memories but that mentality of gambling to get something I want for free would be a regular pattern throughout my gambling career.
Once I turned 18 I opened my first betting account with Blue Sq and that started my online sports gambling journey. Friday nights were spent betting on Wolverhampton all weather horse racing and the Dutch and French 2nd Divisions. All harmless fun, controlled gambling, small stakes. I was still working part time at this stage, left school that summer and gambling was not in the way. Once I got my full time job though that all changed.
The first time I could put my finger on when my gambling changed was the first day of the 2008/2009 football season. I’d been working full time for about 3 years and my gambling was still under control, well, at least I thought it was. My stakes were still low and I was doing football bets at the weekend for a bit of fun. I gambled, but it wasn’t causing me any issues. That Friday I walked into a Paddy Power and decided instead of placing a load of stupid football bets for £1 or £2 I’d pick three teams for the season and do a £20 treble each week. Sheffield United, Leicester City and Leeds United were the picks. Of course, the first weekend it landed (the only time it landed all season I think) and my betting changed from that moment. I genuinely can’t remember the odds but I must have lifted over £100 from that £20 stake and after that staking £1 or £2 just wasn’t appealing. What was the point in that when I could stake £20 and win more. From that moment my gambling started to get out of control over time. Then came the loans, the credit cards and the payday loans.
At some point around this time I had opened a spread betting account due to a sign up offer. Now I did not have the first clue about spread betting but the offer was they gave you a free £100 or something to sign up so I did. I was still living at home at the time and we had one computer which everyone used. Well my Dad stumbled upon this website and was able to access the account (he’s not technically minded so I imagine I left it logged in) and he seen the betting history and he went mental at me. Now, I did explain that it was just bonus funds and I hadn’t actually deposited any of my own money but still the lecture came. It felt like a lecture at the time to me but he was just warning me of the dangers of gambling. Giving me examples of people he knew who had a problem and how easy it is for a gambling problem to begin. So I can never turn around and say that I wasn’t aware of the dangers, I was, my ego was just too big to listen. I paid lip service to the lecture and said I wouldn’t do it again and my Dad took me at my word and trusted me.
So, I knew early on I had a problem. I self excluded from places over the years but never really wanted to quit. I was getting in debt but was able to continue with my lifestyle as I was living at home. I remember one day going to a cheque cashing place where I could write a cheque for £100, dated on my next payday, and they’d give me £90 there and then. I did two cheques for going out that weekend (and a couple of bets on the Aintree Festival) walked straight to the bookies and had the £180 on Denman to win the Aintree Bowl at even money. Denman was a monster of a horse, a machine. He could not lose...then he suffered the first fall of his career. Back I went to the cheque cashing place for another £90 so I could still go out that weekend.
I wasn’t learning from my betting mistakes either as I was just borrowing more money to cover the cracks. I got a few debt consolidating loans over the early years to try and get a handle on my debt but it just gave me an excuse to take out more credit. The payday loans which I used to either gamble or cover my expenses for going out because I used all my money gambling. I would borrow money off my Dad and give him the puppy dog eyes when I paid it back and normally he’d only take half of what I owed him. He thought he was doing the right thing and he wanted me to have money to be able to go out with friends, I was just manipulating the situation.
I moved out and into my friends house for a year and the gambling continued, although I had less money to gamble with. My credit rating was taking a battering but I was young and didn’t really care. Then I met my current girlfriend in February 2010 and we moved in together that September. The gambling continued and was getting worse. I made the smart move to get a second job to supplement my gambling…...at a greyhound track. I’d be earning about £20 a night but gambling £60 or £80. Insanity. We had our first child in April 2012 and not long after she found out I’d be gambling some of the money we’d saved. It wasn’t a lot of money, but she was pissed (rightfully so). I managed to talk my way out of it and that was when I became really good at hiding things. She took control of the rent money and any money for our son so that was never in danger thankfully. We had our daughter in 2016 but the gambling still continued.
It may seem like I have glossed over an important period of time there but the truth is I can’t really remember any of the details. The only details I am able to recall with any great clarity are coming up but I just want to touch on a couple of things from this period. This was a time when I had the biggest wins of my gambling career, two separate occasions. One was an insane run of luck where I couldn’t lose all weekend and ended up with enough money for me, my partner and our Son to have our first and only foreign holiday. Another time I had a £5 free bet and landed a treble at Sandown, all Gary Moore horses and won £3.5k. That money went towards decorating the nursery for my soon to be born Daughter, my partner got money, my Mum and Dad and her Mum and Dad. I bought a PS4 and gambled the rest from memory. The two reasons these moments stick in my head isn’t just the amounts, it’s the only time I walked away in profit, at least for the sessions in question and the reason is that I told my partner I had won the money. That was the only way I knew I wouldn’t gamble it all away because she would ask questions if the money I promised didn’t materialise.
Another part of this time period I want to explore is how I was emotionally. I was 25 when we had our Son and he wasn’t planned. It was a shock to say the least and my life, as I knew it anyways, changed. No longer was I able to do what I wanted socially, I had a Son to provide for. I was working two jobs, money was tight, was I still gambling? Of course I was but slowly I started to strip everything else out of my life. We had our daughter when I was 29 and to be honest here, as much as it sadeness me I thought this way I resented having kids, especially at that age. I felt trapped at times, people I knew were able to do what they want but yet I had all this responsibility. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my kids during this time as well and they meant the world to me, but I do feel that I got into the thought process that I was trapped because of them and my only escape was into the world of online gambling.
I would go through phases where I’d stop altogether for months on end, a year at one point which I imagine was around the time my partner found out about me using the savings for gambling, but I’d always go back to it thinking I was in control but I never was. When gambling I’d deposit £10, lose it, deposit another £10, lose it, rinse and repeat until all my money was gone. If I won it just meant I could gamble longer. It was never about the money. I thought it was, but really the money was the fuel that could keep me gambling longer. Most months I was skint a few days after payday and couldn’t gamble until the next payday. It may not sound like a lot of money but it was a relentless cycle month after month after month.
At the end of 2016 I got an overdraft of £2k and gambled it all on soccer all around the world. Woke up and started gambling in Asia, moved across the globe into the Middle East, Africa, Europe and then fell asleep betting on South American football. It was out of control. Betting on Egyptian football on Xmas Day a particular lowlight. This was what my gambling looked like when I had money. All these bets were in-play as that’s how I gambled, watching a little graphic on Bet365 and thinking I could predict what was going to happen. I also gambled heavily on tennis as well, picking a player to win a set 6-0 was one of my favourites. Generally I would start with £10 as I mentioned and if the bet won I would keep “investing” all the money until it got to a certain amount, normally a couple of hundred quid. Once I got to that point I would raise my stakes significantly because I would tell myself it wasn’t my money. It wasn’t if I didn’t count all the loses it took to get to this point over the previous few days. I would then gamble that until it’s gone cursing myself for not taking the money when I had the chance. Placing the last of my money praying to a god I don’t believe in that if he could just make this bet land then I wouldn’t bet again. Once the money was done I would just sit there, looking at my bank balance, the lack of money, the direct debits due to come out in a few days, trying to figure out how I would survive the next 3-4 weeks until payday. Then I would dust myself off and start working on some budgets. What direct debits I could bounce, who I could ask to borrow money from or maybe what I could sell to fund another round of gambling to try and win my money back.
Coming into 2018 I was in a “good place” with gambling, or so I thought. I was Matched Betting which was a way of making money via bookmakers offers. It worked well for a few months but it all went to shit in the Summer of 2018. Matched Betting introduced me to the casino side of things and I lost £3.5k on roulette. I’ll not go into the ins and outs of how I had that sort of money, lets just say I didn’t and I found a way to deposit via direct debit on PayPal and of course those all bounced. Luckily Paddy Power rewarded me by making me a VIP customer after that, every cloud and all that. So I was chasing big style and getting free £50 bonuses each week from them but I could never get enough money to stop, because no amount was ever going to be enough. Their offers of Money Back if Horse X wins are normally £10 max refund, I was getting £100 max refund. Eventually I was running out of ways to get money and when I started to bet less with Paddy Power they removed my VIP status. I did win £1000 on an NFL bet and lost the lot on roulette the next week. Another lowlight.
The win on the NFL followed by the lose on roulette sticks in my mind because visually it summed up how miserable I was. I had promised my partner back at the start of the year that we would get the living room redecorated and I would pay with it from my Matched Betting and she was happy with that. Of course I explained it was risk free and nothing could go wrong and it wasn’t even gambling. Anyways, come November we are due to have our living room redecorated and of course I do not have the money for it so I have to go to my Mum and Dad. I give them some sob story about how when I was Matched Betting I made a mistake, layed off the wrong horse and lost my money so could then lend me it and don’t tell my partner. It was a complete lie and to be honest at the time I didn’t think they had bought it but they lent me the money. Turns out when I told them about my gambling problem back in April they had smelt bull shit but my Granda (on my Dad’s side) was ill in the hospital and he was stressed about that so he just let it slide. So the redecoration was on and it was going to take a couple of days. One Monday night I had a bet on the NFL and it landed, £10 at 100/1. Happy days, I can give my Mum and Dad back their money, it’s nearly Xmas, this is amazing luck. So on Tuesday night I sat in my half decorated living room and thought if I could just win a little bit more then things would be even better so loaded up the roulette. I lost it all sitting in the living room and during it I could literally see what the money would be paying for but it didn’t stop me, nothing would stop me.
2019 I could feel myself struggling. My life was consumed with gambling or working out how to get money to gamble and then how I was going to pay people back what I owed them. I was in a bad place, I was a bad person, lying, angry but still no one knew the truth. January had always been a tough month as I run several NFL Fantasy Football leagues for money and I am in charge of the money. Of course, that was always gambled away by me and January was the month people expected pay outs because the season was over. Usually I would have won enough money in my leagues to cover it or convince people to pay for next year with their winnings that I could cover it. This year I could not and I had the added pressure of owing people money. A lot of these people were friends of mine I knew personally, others were people I had gotten to know over a few years and only talked online. Either way I had stolen their money and gambled it away. I managed to use my Granda’s death in January as an excuse for why I had not paid people yet, I was in a bad way with the funeral etc, all the excuses, the truth is I was just trying to buy more time.
Then came the weekend prior to April 2nd. I had just been paid and deposited some money into my Bet365 account and managed to get my balance up to £910 on Friday 29th March. I should say by this stage I was fully gambling on tennis. Not match winner, that took too long, generally set winner or next game winner as that was quicker. Now this £910 would have cleared some of my urgent debts to allow me to continue on gambling. All I had to do was withdraw, and I was going to…...once I got it up to a nice round £1000. As you can guess I lost the lot. £300-£400 on Benoit Paire was one of the worst hits but I was gambling like a mad man. That was how I bet when I had winnings, the stakes got out of control. By the time I was leaving work at 6pm on the Friday the whole £910 was gone. I was betting on ATP, Challenger, ITF, any tennis that was on I was betting on it. Back in the day I remember betting on a tennis match where they had one ball. Still a story that brings a smile to my face if I’m honest. A smile that consists of a mixture of shame and cringe. That Friday night I deposited whatever I had left in and managed to win back a good chunk of the money, but it still wasn’t enough. It still wasn’t what I had before. So the whole weekend went like that, up and down, up and down. I went to a family dinner and sat betting on my phone the whole night. That’s how my life has been the last number of years, i’m present at gatherings, or nights out but my mind is deep in my phone gambling away not giving a shit about anyone.
Eventually the money ran out that weekend. I was a mess. I could have actually made it work financially and gotten through the month but mentally I was gone. I could tell my brain had put me into a nosedive and the only way this was all ending was in disaster. Maybe not this month, or this year but I was being flown towards rock bottom.
I sat down on the Monday and wrote out everything that I owed, who I owed it to, a budget going forward. It was grim enough reading, £18k in the hole. The money wasn’t the issue, it was how it was making me feel, the time I’ve been wasting. The fact that I finally couldn’t take anymore, that I was ready to wave the white flag and say gambling has won, it defeated me. I found out when and where the nearest GA Meeting was to me and wrote that down too. So I found a set of balls and on the Tuesday I told my girlfriend. My attitude was that life can’t be any worse for me than it currently is. I was a mess, I cried, I honestly expected her to tell me to get out and I wouldn’t have blamed her, but she was amazing. She was angry obviously, but she was so supportive. Then I called my parents round and told them. They were disappointed, confused but also really supportive. Then the next day I told my closest friends who were again all really supportive. I owe them some money too and they’ve been great about setting up a payment plan to pay that back. I can imagine some people saying that I didn’t hit rock bottom in comparison to others, I felt that way myself to be honest. I felt like I had gotten off lightly but looking back the cycle I was in was soul destroying and although I didn’t cause the devastation others have caused I knew I needed to reach out for help as I couldn’t do it on my own.
I registered for GAMStop and self excluded online for 5 years which has taken the avenue of online gambling away from me. A vital step if online is your vice. I also handed over control of my finances to my partner which again removed another temptation. I’ve since learned in recovery that gamblers need 3 things, time, opportunity and money, take away one of those and you won’t be able to gamble. I took away two with these simple steps.
I then went to my first GA Meeting on Wednesday 3rd April. The time doesn’t suit me for that, Monday at 9pm is my meeting but I felt I needed to get to one ASAP. I don’t know what I expected GA to be, some sort of church run cult filled with a bunch of old men desperate for a bet but it’s one of the most amazing groups I’ve ever found. It’s a dumping ground for all my shit and it’s a place where I can listen to other people’s stories. Without sounding sexist, it’s something a lot of men could do with outside of addiction, a place to talk about life and how they are feeling. I take a 50 mile round trip every Monday to get there. When I was gambling if I had to travel 50 miles to get internet to gamble you can guarantee I’d have travelled every day. When I leave a meeting I am buzzing, for all the right reasons. I’m a lifer when it comes to GA now and I am fine with that.
I am also a member of the Problem Gambling Support Group and we run three meetings a week via Skype. This group has been so influential to my recovery and I have met so many good people I now consider friends through it. The topic meeting style is completely different to what happens at my own GA so it fits into my recovery perfectly and gives me a different perspective.
I have a sponsor, who has had a massive impact on my recovery. He has helped me work the Steps and is always there if I need him. At times it’s hard to tell who is sponsoring who but that sort of dynamic works well for me as I see him as a friend first and sponsosponsee second.
I have also found a passion for writing about my journey and post my stuff on my blog, on GamCare and on the Reddit Problem Gambling Sub. I have been told my stuff is very good and people seem to get a lot from it. As I explained at a recent meeting I am still learning how to deal with praise, it makes me feel awkward. I’m not sure if it’s from years of not wanting to be the focus of people's attention because of the fear they might ask questions and my addiction would be exposed. Whatever the reason I am working on being able to accept praise and enjoy it and as I was told at the last meeting...a simple thank you is usually enough.
I’ve been clean for over 9 months now, and I have not struggled with urges to gamble. My life is amazing, it always was but I was too wrapped up in my addiction to notice. I literally had everything I could ever want. I have an amazing partner and two amazing children along with my parents who are absolutely fantastic. I have my health, a job and my friends are another support network I couldn’t do without now. They stood by me when I admitted my problem and they gave me the belief that I could do this.
Recovery is now my focus along with my family. The debt can be managed, stopping gambling is one day at a time, but the main focus of my recovery will be fixing my character defects, helping others, being open and honest to people and not being a selfish asshole. I would like to think those that know me now can at least drop the selfish part when describing me.
I have put plenty of work into my recovery and I feel like I am getting the benefits out of it. I have a routine when it comes to meetings and they don’t impact on my family life. Is every day amazing? No it’s not. Some days are rather boring and some days are tough, but that’s life. Some days you have to make chicken salad out of chicken shit. I have accepted what I am, I am a compulsive gambler and I need to be the one who changes. No one else around me needs to change, I am the common denominator. I have noticed a change in myself and those closest to me. They all seem happier, more content, happy to have this me in their life and not the old me. I wasn’t a nice partner, father, son or friend when I was in active addiction. I don’t want to be the person I was before I started gambling either because I am pretty convinced he was an asshole as well. I am using this recovery to become the man I want to be, the man I can look in the mirror and be proud to be.
As I said, I have accepted that I am a compulsive gambler and I cannot have a single bet because it will lead me back to active addiction. I have no issues with the gambling industry or people who gamble, I just know that I am unable to gamble as it ends in disaster. I feel there should be more discussion around problem gambling and the industry should be putting more money into helping problem gamblers and to help identify problem gamblers. It’s a fine line though, as I know if a bookie told me they felt I had a problem and wouldn’t accept a bet I’d have been angry and just went somewhere else. You need to be ready for recovery to fully embrace it. I never was until April 2nd. For the people in recovery we need to be ready to help those that get to the stage where they are ready for recovery. We are the ones who these people will come to rely on as we’ve been through it, you can tell when talking to someone who hasn’t had a gambling addiction they just don’t understand. Over the coming years I think there will be a significant rise in people looking for help with problem gambling. I don’t feel like my story is close to the worst out there and I have read and heard some people who have the opinion that you need to cause devastation before recovery will work. That’s bollocks and that sort of attitude is why GA is filled with old men and young people are reluctant to stay. I have come to believe it doesn’t matter how much you have lost, how many relationships you have destroyed or what age you are, all you need is a desire to stop gambling and that is the qualification for entering recovery.
For now though, for me, my next bet won’t be about the money I lose, I’ll lose my partner and my children as well and that’s not a bet that I am not willing to make.
Mark
submitted by Previous |
First DISCLAIMER: I do not claim to own any of the ideas or worlds described in the story. The ‘They are Smol’ universe is the intellectual property of u/TinyPrancingHorse. Nothing in the story is canon to his universe, and I’d suggest you visit his writings if you love wholesome stories about humans being human. —|—|—|—
ADDITIONAL DISCLAIMER: This story was
NOT written by me. It was, instead, created by the beautiful and certainly not a snake-person “
@not-a-jornissian” (currently @spookwoodle) on the They Are Smol discord. I was given permission to post his wonderful story on his behalf, so please direct all praise to him. I’m just the messenger. He’s the good writer.
—|—|—|—
ADDITIONAL ADDITIONAL DISCLAIMER “You’ve read They Are Smol. You’ve enjoyed They Are Smol (If you haven’t, well, prepare to not enjoy this one either). But this is smols like you’ve not seen them before. This is extreme smolness with a lemon twist: smols fucked up
big time in this one, and Earth, well… Earth is empty of smols. At least the ayys hope so, because it’s fallout time back there. The ones that got away — and let’s face it, it was all of them that were left — had no place to go. Homeless, smol and needing protecting, they were taken in. For the lucky ayys out there, they’re
our smols.
This is a not-so-serious slice of life alternate universe where the entire population of Earth - what was left after the dead man’s switch was flipped and the nukes
successfully irradiated the planet - was evacuated en masse and then taken in by the galactic civilization at large.
I’ll probably write a few more in this silly, comfy alternate timeline to expand on what’s different, but don’t take it too seriously, okay?
So, without further ado...”
—|—|—|—
Part 5: Murder Darts
“So… this says… the… ball is red. Really? haven’t we covered this page before? But… what’re all these extra details if I turn on—”
“[Whoops! You’re not quite ready for all that yet. It’s too complicated.]”
“I’m not a child you know!”
I pouted — I could
feel the pout even though I felt stupid for acting this way — as Cherry turned off the extra details in the ‘book’ I was reading. The ‘book’ was a typical alien affair, a lightweight yet sturdy device with one large screen that could be rolled up or folded, was touch sensitive, could speak in multiple languages — including my own — and held vastly more than just the one nursery-level story adventure about a bright red ball that I was reading for probably the fifth time.
The book actually held a good chunk of the sum of all Senate-species books produced over the last however-many thousands of years. It was a standard data terminal given to pre-schoolers when they were practicing their reading and writing. It kept my place between lessons with cherry little creatures that I presumed were native to karnakia and helpfully gave me tips on how to improve my reading comprehension skills with their happy animations and infinite patience.
It patronized me even more than Cherry did.
I was using it to learn Karnakian and Galactic Standard Script, a midway language that was fully computable and logically consistent. Nobody
natively spoke GalScript, but it was used as the go-between in all translators, including my own collar. It was also used galaxy wide as the standard script for all multi-species documentation, signage and other written communication. That now included all official Terran-Senate communication.
Humans were learning it en masse as part of our integration tasks, even those not living with the aliens on a daily basis. The GalNet news stations were reporting on the difficulty working with Newport on Mars which had proclaimed itself a sovereign state for the benefit of humans only, but the independent colonies were picking it up well, as were Luna and United Earth Government members on the moon.
In some ways, for the people in my position, it was harder to learn GalScript than for those in the colonies. We had our translators and our benefactors looking out for us, and it was
stupidly easy to put puppy dog eyes to good use. With the way they fell over backwards to give us everything we could ever want, I for one didn’t quite have the strength to not take advantage of it. It didn’t work in the colonies where human teachers were quite able to be harsh enough for their students, of any age, to get them to shape up or ship out.
Newport, of course, didn’t want to pay ball in general. They weren’t entirely
anti alien, but they definitely weren’t interested in becoming part of the Senate at large. The Martian city was being built with the lowest, sturdiest technology available that the Senate were willing to give unrestricted access to. It was comparably cramped, smelly, dirty and a far cry from the comfortable, airy, well-appointed quarters I enjoyed. True to their word though, the Senate were air-dropping materiel and machines from orbit, and hadn’t set scaly hide, talon, paw, claw or feathered backside on Mars, nor would they so long as the colony remained viable.
Of course, I didn’t have any pretensions that showing the naked truth of non-integrated living wasn’t deliberate propaganda by the Senate, and part of the effort to integrate the majority of mankind into the galactic community at large, but it
was the truth.
“But… why won’t you turn it back on?” Annoyingly, puppy dog eyes weren’t working this time.
“[No. You’re not ready for it. You can barely manage your lessons as it is! You’re not ready for that level of detail, not yet, it’ll just distract you and you’ll make no progress at all.]”
I narrowed my eyes, poking at the screen attempting to turn it all back on, but Cherry had used her ‘parental permissions’ to lock me out. “That’s very fair of you, stifling my inquisitive nature.”
Cherry fluffed up angrily. “[Okay… you asked for it. Holoprojection, data display, level [ten] Galactic Standard Script, last spoken phrase by [Dean].]”
There was a burst of light as the dwelling’s holoprojector activated. The room flooded with information. I was almost blinded. All that for a simple phrase?
“[Here is the basic meaning, that you believe I am a fair and just giver of knowledge… but that’s not what you meant, was it? No, the modifier noted by this axis negates the normal adjective of that clause, actually inverting it. The predicate and arguments here show your emotional state, a frustration with the boundaries given, implying I think you are a rowdy chick who is anxious to show off his first moult before the feathers are even full. Do you want me to go on?]”
I grumbled, swiping to ‘turn the page’. “The ball is bouncy and… pretty.”
“And if you’d been paying attention you’d know you were being asked to provide the extra meanings from these words this time. It means the ball is ‘rubbery’
and ‘pretty’
and ‘attractive’
and ‘interesting’.” Cherry clucked, dismissing the light show with a wave of her talons. She then sat down again and gently but insistently turned off the book, pulling me into her feathery embrace as she made herself comfortable in the reading nook hollow of the den.
“[You have time, [Dean]. You have plenty of time to learn. It is hard to learn a new language, especially GalScript. Would you rather try Karnakian again?]” Cherry gestured and the holo-emitters fired up once more.
I couldn’t
speak Karnakian, but I was doing a relatively good job of learning to read it, even if that was through—
“[Dancing through the stars! We found them! [One and all!] Upon their green world, blue sky and waters! [All the colours!] Come to us, small heroes! Defend your lands from terror! TALONS! TEETH! WARMTH OF HEART! SMALL HEROES!]”
—cartoons. I didn’t know whether to be amused or insulted, but [Small Hero Colourful Friend Defence Team] was certainly popular and I never missed an episode, though plenty of snobs said the Karnakian vis-dub — somehow the show was being produced in English, like some sort of reverse alien anime — was unfaithful to the English original. It featured a band of alien children who accidentally washed up on a version of Earth that was in danger of being attacked by evil space pirates and plundered for their cute denizens and other riches. Through quick thinking, magical powers granted by talking trees and technology from ancient machines, the children aided by their human allies sent the dastardly space pirates packing in episode after episode. I watched it in Karnakian, and had the house systems translate into both English and Karnakian subtitles.
The Senate had tried to ban it from being displayed on Zephyr stations, but that ban had been about as effective as you’d expect. With all their technology, they’d seemingly forgotten about things like the Streisand Effect. In moments from the initial premier, it was the hottest traded commodity from the restricted pile, so much so that they just gave up and looked the other way when it was surreptitiously rebroadcast on the local datanets.
Come to think of it, allowing [Small Hero Colourful Friend Defence Team] to flourish may have been the simplest way to let off steam and avoid even more sensitive shows becoming so highly sought after.
I settled into the cool floof as Cherry combed my hair. Karnakians enjoyed grooming each other almost as much as Dorarizin did, but human hair fascinated them even more than usual. I had to be stern during such sessions or she’d be putting bows in again. Karnakians adored fetishes in their feathers and manes, but I wasn’t quite so fond of the idea.
“I just don’t like feeling stupid,” I grumbled. I was working with material that aliens practically a tenth my age — or so it felt — had already mastered. Cherry shuffled about in the seating hollow we were in, clearly distressed.
“[You’re not stupid,]” she said, swaddling me with her wing-like arms. “[You’re brave and clever and smart… you’ll learn soon enough.]”
I was saved from further platitudes and ruminations by Chuck’s return. The other member of our household was on a staggered shift compared to Cherry, but during the on-station evening they were both home most of the time as they had me to look after. He noisily shook himself out as he crossed the threshold, unbuttoning his waistcoat and dropping his sash onto a nearby hook. He kicked his shoes — more ceremonial claw-guards than what I would call actual footwear — across the room into a corner before stretching out in a long karnakian sigh, rattling his fur-like feathers as he did so.
“Long day?” I asked. Chucky just ducked his head in a karnakian nod, gesturing for the house to widen the pit so he could join us.
“[The [humans] with children are mostly safe, but we had a whole commune to evacuate in one go, all of them malnourished, many of them sick. They were… they were very scared.]”
Cherry nibbled at his neck-fluff where the desert-dweller’s scalier hide gave way to the thin, reed-like fur-spikes. “[They are safe now, they will learn not to fear us.]”
“[I wish they had learned quicker.]” Unsaid was that something had happened, but it was written large across his features, so plain that even I could read it. He may not have been on the ground, but he still got telemetry and co-ordinated raw, unfiltered video feeds.
“You do your best, that’s all you can do. Sometimes it’s not enough. Like Cherry says, they’re scared. As far as some of them know, they lost a war. For all they know, you might find humans as irresistibly tasty as you do cute.”
If pointing out how I was basically a cross between an exotic pet and a child made them upset, you can imagine how saying that made them feel. It was the closest thing to anger with me that I’d seen.
“[How could you—!]”
“[Don’t even joke—!]”
“[We would never!]”
“[Unthinkable!]”
“I’m sorry! It was just a joke! A joke!”
“[Horrible!]”
“[To suggest such…!]”
It took me until after the episode had finished — it’s not like we didn’t have the whole season so far downloaded, this episode included, but it’s the principle of the thing — to calm them down.
On reflection, I felt sorry for what I’d said, truly sorry. By now I’d heard enough rumours to understand that they’d accidentally yet badly injured a human during the initial first contact and that this whole mess was kind of their fault. For me, I tended to see it as taking two to tango, what with the whole nuclear fallout thing. It certainly wasn’t Karnakian missiles that destroyed my home after all.
Most Karnakians were rather straightforward and honest people, loving to a fault. For them, they could never forgive themselves for the absolute travesty that First Contact had turned into, it would be generations before the hurt would fade. With their lifespans being at least a thousand of our years, that meant grieving and pain for a span as long as a good chunk of recorded history so far. My life pre-contact, whilst comfortable by historical standards, was a far cry from the modern amenities I now enjoyed in their care. The kind of dark humour that I was used to made them uncomfortable at the best of times, and to even joke about
eating sentients was beyond the pale.
“I’m sorry Cherry, Chucky. Come here… I’m sorry, really.” I pulled their heads down towards mine, bumping foreheads. The standard expression on Karnakians easily translated to ‘angry’ for humans who were uninitiated, but I’d learned to read past that. They were sad and hurt.
“You can forgive your [dilligent little school chick] can’t you?” I looked up at them, wide-eyed and innocent. I couldn’t speak Karnakian, but I
could speak GalScript, or at least the standardized Terran pronunciation of it… when aided by the house’s holo-projector and my collar. It was below the belt, really, but as much as they knew I was a full adult, something about us humans just
screamed ‘wobbly helpless chick’.
Chucky was the first to fold. He closed his eyes. “[I forgive you, little one,]” he sighed. “[I t-try so hard…]”
I made small, soothing noises, patting his side. I picked at his feathery fur around his head in an attempt to groom him, and a few moments later he was doing the same to my hair.
“Who’s my big strong Karnakian EM Squire? I know you’re the best on the boards. And
Mommy is such a friendly, helpful Karnakian too, isn’t she? You’re both doing a great job at saving humans like me, I know you are.”
Cherry squawked in annoyance, gently picking me up and pretend-snapping her teeth across my face and down my chest in an impromptu grooming session, it was similar to having a large dog slobber all over you, only worse.
“[How many times have I told you not to call me that!?]”
“
Daddy! Mommy is being mean to me!” I mock-pouted, rubbing the knuckles of my fist on Cherry’s face as she fluffed up in annoyance.
“[You’re not helping your case you know!]” Cherry continued, but by now even Chucky was laughing, trilling helplessly as tears rolled down his muzzle. The tension slowly leaked out of both of them, though I knew I’d be getting grumbled at later. For now though, it meant we could finally wind down as a strange family.
It was a bad habit, perhaps, but I let myself fall asleep held by either or both of the Karnakians. I don’t think I’ve found anything quite so comfortable as an oversized alien space-raptor for a couch. I had my own bed, of course, but I let them take me to it. Don’t look at me like that! I know how you fall asleep watching the telly, and how you’ve never watched all of
Star Wars and you used to wake up only half way through the credits. This is pretty much the same, just with less steps.
When I woke up again, it was still ‘night’. That didn’t matter for me though, I’d had enough sleeping for a while and really needed to get out, to clear my head. I didn’t want to wake Cherry and Chucky this early — they, we, had a joint free shift in the ‘morning’ — so I’d make do with just the emergency glow from my collar to get me to the front door. I’d shucked my pants when I’d gone to bed proper, now I pulled them on as quietly as possible, cussing only infrequently as I struggled to get the legs the right way around. A few minutes later and I was out the front door.
Looking back at the house, it remained dark. Streetlights, sensing my motion, slowly grew in brightness until their blue-green glow suffused the area with a friendly light. I took a deep breath of the ‘night’ air, it was fresher and cooler at this time of day, rolling in from the park found spinwards and aft of our house. The center of this cylindrical residential zone was speckled with mobile drones full of lights and holo-effectors that could make the space above the houses look like anything from outer space to a chasm on a distant moon — every so often someone would get to pick a vista for it to display — but right now it was showing the stars as they would appear outside, as if I were on the inside of a partially see-through tube floating in space. Beautiful, but eerie. The lights of other dwellings twinkled distantly on the other side of the ‘arch’. Beneath my feet, the rough and regular footwalks stretched onwards through the habitable zone as it stretched right the way around to the opposite side of the tube, above me, and back down again the other side behind.
I made sure my collar was happy about my relatively unplanned constitutional, the last thing I wanted was to wake everybody up with the silent alarm causing the station security forces to lock the whole floor down and descend en masse, then started walking up the street.
This arcology platform was something else. I was living in suburbia, in space. Despite being quadrillions of tonnes of exotic alloys, it was practically able of landing on a planet — not that it was supposed to — and came complete with its own gravity generators. Where I’d expected our apartment to be down some meandering space corridor with a door like any other, it wasn’t. It was a relatively uniform yet distinct house, complete with garden, babbling brook and patio, just the way Cherry and Chucky liked it. I liked it too, but I had places to go. A hover-skimmer soon descended on my position, picking me up. There was no driver and no charge, the perfect taxi.
“Charlie’s,” I said. The taxi interrogated my collar, picked out where I meant and then accelerated at speed, the inertial dampers meaning I couldn’t even feel it as the scenery first fell away then sped past below me. A few minutes later, I was entering the ‘downtown’ district, the next floor ‘down’, aft of my own.
From the air — and we weren’t all that high up, we were after all inside a space-station — the ‘downtown’ district was a blaze of neon. Dropping to ‘floor’ level on the inside of the cylinder’s walls, the taxi slowed to a halt, the gull-wing doors rising up as I stepped out. Here the lights were less dazzling, the sidewalks less gargantuan. This was ‘little Terra’, a home away from home for us humans, especially when the ‘babysitters’ were sleeping. It was almost disorientating when the door was normal sized for once, and it somehow felt… not cramped, but the ceiling being a normal height — at least in the patron side of the bar — was kind of intimate. Even the outside of the buildings were hauntingly familiar, in a strange kind of fashion.
“Hey Reshy, had a good one so far?” I asked the bartender.
“[Starting to warm up,]” replied Chrlesshnethggrethraf noncomitally. He reached up, took down a pint glass and pulled a pint of cider for me. The red and white striped adder-type slid the glass across the top of the bar. I took it gratefully.
“Put it on my tab.”
“[You know you don’t have a tab, right?]”
I snorted, taking a swig. “You say that every time. It’s the principle of the thing.”
“[Same here.]”
I grinned, then wandered over to the jukebox and dropped in a few of the fake coins passed around — for some reason, they had pictures of random humans on them instead of any specific monarchs, along with writing on the other side in a variety of alien languages — before punching buttons on the deliberately clunky interface. Tunes from my home blared over the speakers as I sank into the ratty yet comfortable seats. The fake patina was slowly being replaced by real stains, and although it looked dog-eared, I knew it was meant to but was in fact as new as the rest of the human adaptations to this space station.
Taking another swig of cider, I finally started to relax. Thinking back on the day — evening, for ‘Mommy’ and ‘Daddy’ — I reasoned that Cherry, Chucky, and in fact not only all the karnakians but all the resident aliens, were doing their best to set right what they’d set wrong, even if it didn’t always feel like it. I figured that was because I didn’t see the full situation back on Earth with the holdouts who, rightly or wrongly, were scared of the aliens. Instead I was here, in absolute comfort, because I wasn’t.
I guess that’s why I came to places like Charlie’s. ‘Charlie’ may have been a Jornissian, but the rest of the denizens were, broadly speaking, humans. This was what Cherry and Chucky were working towards, the ability for us humans to have our own culture once more, our own space. I just wasn’t sure the aliens were ready for it.
“Okay, are we ready?” Ollie, special forces vet, was acting as referee tonight. A stalwart Northerner from the UK, he was keeping the peace between Ivan and Seamus, at opposite ends of one side of the room. The crowd was cheering them on.
“Murder darts! Murder darts! Murder darts!” The chanting started up, getting louder and rowdier as the excitement built up.
“Aye, I’m ready,” Seamus said, once Ollie had gained a modicum of control over the crowd. He took a swig from his own bottle as he eyed the shots in front of him.
“Da! Let us begin!” Ivan said, hammering his chest with one hand.
The chanting started up again after that. “Murder darts! Murder darts!”
“I want a clean competition, one drink, one shot, alright? Okay, go!”
Each competitor took a shot of the clear liquid in front of them, then took aim, and...
“Ooohh!”
The crowd winced as one as twin darts sank into the two competitors. One in the arm of Seamus, and one in the shoulder of Ivan. With the medical abilities of the aliens being so far ahead of hours, otherwise debilitating injuries were more or less just an annoyance. Hence, pastimes like ‘murder darts’ had grown in popularity, where injuring yourself or someone else was the aim of the game.
“Give up yet, ya pansy?” Seamus taunted, pulling his dart out. A dribble of blood ran down his arm
“Go cry to your mama,” Ivan retorted, slamming back another drink. He flicked the dart in his shoulder contemptuously to the floor. Seamus took another shot.
“Remember! Miss, and your opponent gets a free shot, their choice of dart or drink!”
“Ivan will not miss.” Ivan took his shot, and took a shot.
“What, you think I’m gonna back out? Feck off.” Seamus did the same.
Two more darts went sailing across the room, more drinks were knocked back, followed by another pair of drinks and another pair of darts. Money changed hands, though in the strange situation we humans found ourselves it was more a set of IOU’s. Eventually, the whole initial row of shots was emptied, their glasses upturned. Both competitors looked a little woozy, but that was because they’d not been drinking on an empty stomach. They’d put alcohol in it first.
“Alright gents! Warmup’s over! Neither of our stars are backing down! It’s time for another round!”
The clear gutrot was once more portioned out, and soon darts once again went flying across the room, finding their targets, though with a wider dispersal now. Some of them did miss, usually to be replaced by a drink from the victor. Off to one side, separate games of ‘punch-face’ were starting up, where the winner of a timed downing of a pint got to punch the loser in the face before having another pint. Things were getting interesting. Having sunk several double shots of my own in addition to a number of pints of cider — quite how many, I was no longer sure — I got up from my seat to move a little closer, maybe take a part in the betting. Unfortunately, several others had the same idea and a pint glass caught my elbow, to get sent flying over me and its owner.
“Oi! What the fuck do you fink yer doin’?”
“Oh shut up you gibbon,” I retorted, words slurred as I wiped myself down, livid. “If you’d looked where you were going—”
“What the fuck did you call me?” I was interrupted by the gibbon in question, all greasy hair and dragging knuckles, and barely a single pair of brain cells to rub together.
“I said you’re a gibbon, you half-witted, window-licking, crayon-eating, knuckle-dragging simpleton, waving your stupid hands all around instead of watching where you’re going. You’ve got your piss-water all over me!”
His friend squared up. “I think you’d better apologize, you little shit.”
I sniffed. “Alright. I’m sorry your friend is a half-witted, window-licking, crayon eating, knuckle-dragging simpleton. Sorry your girlfriend—”
In hindsight, that may have not been the right answer. Live and learn. Predictably perhaps, the gibbon drew back his hand, made a fist, and punched me in the face. I was sent staggering backwards through the rapidly parting crowd into Ivan, who slipped with his dart and sent it sinking into Ollie, who slapped two others in their faces, spilling their drinks, which set
them off and the rowdy game of murder darts devolved into a rousing rumble.
“Sassenach!”
“Limey bastard!”
“Come on then! One at a time or all at once, ya slags! I’ll nut ya!”
By this time, chairs were flying across the room, the wooden floor was stained with beer and blood, glass littered the tables, Charlie had put up the blast screen, and as for me, I found myself heartily defenestrated. I rolled to a stop outside in the road as a whole pack of armoured dorarizin descended from rapid-response troop carriers. Drones buzzed around, lights piercing the otherwise dark streets, as the peacekeeper forces arrived.
For some reason, at least one of them was wearing what appeared to be a British policeman’s outfit, the strangely bell-shaped archaic hat on his head looking rather out of place. He bent down and cleared his throat as a circle of light surrounded us two in particular.
“[You’re [nicked], [mate],]” he said, through a thick mask that was probably intended to prevent the inevitable dorarizin hug that followed unscented humans and instead made him look like a nightmare in metal, leather and fangs. “[Did that translate properly?]”
I burbled something through the blood streaming out of my cut lip in rough assent and he nodded, seemingly satisfied. At some point after that, the world went dark.
Chr'ter trilled softly in annoyance as the call was resolutely passed through both the privacy and courtesy firewalls and filters, waking her up. The house systems did their best not to intrude during bedtime, but when you do have to handle a priority communication, intruding comes as part of the job.
“|Hello? ...Yes, I am Chr’ter of House Tr’ck’rk’tktk, what…|” she stifled a yawn, feeling all the feathers down her back flutter, her tail-fans cramping, “|what can I do for…|” She sat up straighter as the voice on the other end of the line — audio only for privacy’s sake at this time of night — inquired whether she had one ‘Softy Tr’ck’rk’tktk’ as a part of her Family.
“|By Br’nk’trrr’s last feather,|” she swore. She took a deep breath. “|I do, is this — yes, the local peacekeepers, I under — no, no, he’s a good boy, he’d never… injured? My baby is injured? If you’ve hurt him I’ll tear every scale from your… just you try to charge me with verbal assault and I’ll have your hide! What did you do to my baby!? Chrk’chrk, get up! Right now!|”
“|Rrff? Mff? Wha’?|” Chrk’chrk was kicked in the face by a very agitated Chr’ter. He circled his jaw and shook his head, making sure nothing was injured. “|My prr’nktun blossom, what is it?|”
“|The [peacekeepers]! They’re holding our baby prisoner! He’s been arrested by the not-so Noble-Family-Hunters-Yearning-For-Life!|”
For a brief moment, Chrk’chrk was still, then a low, rattling growl emanated from deep within his body. “|Ripped pinions, tell them we will be there momentarily and that they had better have a very, very good explanation.|”
The call was cut on a frantic jornissian as she tried to calm things down. She decided clocking off early was probably a good idea as the equivalent of a dial-tone was her only companion.
“[Hi [Mommy], hi [Daddy],]” The little-needs-protecting croaked out, smiling through the gaps in his missing teeth as he tried his best ‘little lost chick’ act. It was a bit of a stretch, given how he was currently lying on a relatively spartan bench in a plascrete cell, in the middle of the detention block. His soul-lights were a whirl of painkillers, inebriation and injuries barely suppressed by nano-meds. He was also rather worried about his ultimate fate this night, as he should be.
“|Don’t you try that with us! What did you think you were doing?|” rumbled Chrk’chrk, his spiny feathers rattling. Chr’ter, however, had other things on her mind than her errant’s ‘chick’s behaviour.
“|You have him restrained? In [handcuffs]? Are you a [barbarian]!? Let him free this instant!|”
“[Miss, it is customary in his society—]” the jornissian civilian safety officer tried to explain, but Chr’ter had her back feathers rising and there was a low growl emanating from her throat. Her tail-fans widened and she tried very, very hard not to gouge the floor with her claws.
“|He is not in his society right now, he is in mine and if you do not start treating my baby with a little bit more care I will show you—|”
“|[Burnished feather of the morning light], please calm down. There is already one member of our family in trouble, we do not need another,|” said Chrk’chrk soothingly, trying his best to keep his own feather-spikes down. He then turned to the jornissian that was standing to one side in the grey detention block of the peacekeeper’s station and narrowed his eyes, forked tongue flicking over his lips. “|On the [flipside] of that, if you do not release him this instant I am not responsible for what may happen. He is perfectly safe to handle, and most certainly will not be escaping our tender mercies.|”
“[Un-understood… now if you would just sign this release form and-and-and w-waiver—]” Rsssthssprrktthh tried very hard to keep smiling and remembering to blink. She herself knew what it was like with children, you never forgot the feeling of their teeth as they clung to you, it made her warm even now thinking of the warm-cuddle she’d been tending, so she knew what it was like for the two Karnakians in front of her. [Dean] had been so cute, despite her being forced to keep the warm-cuddle restrained as per his society’s customs until his carers arrived to request he be relinquished from his cell.
“|Waiver?|” growled Chr’ter.
“[He, ah, was part of a public disturbance and-and-and—]”
“|How badly was he injured?|”
Rsssthssprrktthh rattled off a list of injuries, which included bruised livers, cuts and abrasions and a broken shoulder to an increasingly irate karnakian. “[But his teeth will grow back, though you may want to have him on a liquid diet for a while.]”
“|And you want me to sign a waiver for what before you will let me take him home to be properly cared for?|”
“[He was p-part of a p-public dis-disturbance and-and… and I suppose we know exactly where to find you should we require any more information! Just sign th-the release form! Here and here and… thank you he should come into a [little-needs-protecting] hospital later today or tomorrow for another standard dose of nanites, medi-skin re-application, more antitoxins for the intoxicants he digested, and removal of the quick-cast for his broken arm, but for now you are free to go and please don’t come back!]”
The jornissian signalled the cell to release its occupant, then vanished as quickly as her long, yellow and orange tail would let her. For their part, Chr’ter and Chrk’chrk turned to the widely grinning little-needs-protecting. He smelled happy, hurt, pungent from ‘alcohol’ and very, very recalcitrant. His soul-lights were also calmer now that he was back with his family.
“|You have a lot of explaining to do, [Mister],|” grumbled Chr’ter as she pulled the sliding barred door open.
“|Indeed. Just wait until your moth… er, I mean Chr’ter and I, get you home!|”
The little-needs-protecting’s face fell as he was gently, but firmly, pulled to his feet.
“|So you say you were innocent?|” Chrk’chrk asked, his feathers rippling up and down his body.
“[Honest. I was just there for some… time to myself. W-with others. I mean—]”
“|With others of your own kind. We understand. Just… that’s a… a bad part of town—|” Chr’ter stated.
“[Hey!]”
“|Sorry, but it is. And then you got into this… riot?|” Chrk’chrk continued.
“[I didn’t mean to! I wasn’t going to get involved in anything dangerous or illegal when I went out!]”
“|At least you’re safe now,|” Chr’ter said, fussing over Softy’s injuries. She yawned, fluffing herself up as she pulled the injured little-needs-protecting into her embrace. “|Now all we need to do is relax a little. Maybe put the holoprojector on whilst we wake up properly.|”
“|...In local news today, there was an altercation with the [little-needs-protectings] at a bar colloquially known as [Charlie’s]. A fight broke out over a dangerous game known as [murder darts] went awry during an illegal betting session.|”
“|You WHAT!?|” Chr’ter felt the little-needs-spankings tense up in her grasp as she heard and saw the news footage.
“|The instigator of the fight has been identified and appears to be one [Softy Tr’ck’rk’tktk], and will be—|”
“|YOU ARE SO GROUNDED!|”
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