Rating: Gen
Notes: More world building and family fluff… fill for Cotton Candy Bingo amnesty.
Prompt: Money
Disclaimer: This is a work of fictional parody in no way intended to infringe upon the rights of any individual or corporate entity. Any and all characters or celebrity personae belong to their rightful owners. Absolutely no money has or will be gained from this work. Please do not publicly repost or redistribute without letting me know first. Transformative or derivative works welcome, but drop me a note about it!
They had been on the homeworld almost a week and Wikus was still horribly confused with it all. Christopher was busy coordinating teams to build the new community literally from the dry ground up, so the chirpy adolescent he had known over three years before had taken it upon himself to show the grown-child how life was conducted in their world.
It was his first trip to the marketplace, Christopher had been taking care of the daily supply of food and miscellaneous household needs for the first several days but Wikus was determined not to spend his life cooped up in their home out of fear. He would learn, and he would be thankful for the help he had.
"This way, this way!" Oliver chirped happily, dragging Wikus by the arm toward a large open-air market that was set up in the center of their part of the growing city. He'd explained that most of the colonies were built with a few cities circled around such markets because commerce was a daily necessity – all Poleepkwa had need to trade, sell, and buy their goods. He understood the concept well, knowing that human society was built on much the same standards – commerce drove the market.
"Not so fast!" Wikus churred, trying to keep up with the youth's impressive pace. Oliver had grown considerably in the last three years; he looked a lot like a smaller version of his father save for ragged yellow markings on his green carapace. Only a little smaller than Wikus, he was slightly stronger and took entirely too much pleasure in his ability to push him around. "You still have to explain the money." Counting rand was easy, the colored notes or coins with numbers printed on them compared to prices asked or marked on products – what he was given was a single circular coin the size of a poker chip strung around his wrist with a tight chain bearing no numbers or markings of any kind. "How much is this worth?"
Oliver's pace slowed just enough to walk side by side with his father's mate and he touched the chip, holding a tentacle against it until a hologram emitted from the center bearing a long string of number symbols that had only recently begun to have meaning to Wikus. "It is enough. We are well paid for our work."
He wanted to ask if it was like a credit card, but had no words to do so – instead he watched as the numbers flickered away and then forced himself to follow at Oliver's pace as they neared the pavilion. As he looked over the stalls of strange animals and plants and flowers and trinkets, he stopped dead in his tracks – the child's tug pulling him to the ground.
"Are you hurt?" He asked, crouching down near his head – arm outstretched to help him back to his feet.
"I can't do this." Wikus said, looking again at the busy market as he managed back upright. Lowering his head, his antennae flitted anxiously. "I don't know what any of this is, let alone how much things cost… this is a horrible idea…"
"Learning." Oliver reminded him, scratching his toe-claws into the dry ground. Symbolically holding his arm out as he had years ago, he said; "We are the same. We are family. We will teach each other."
Clearly, his father had been talking to him about Wikus' anxiety about the new world – and admittedly he appreciated the child's confident tone. "Learning," he repeated, offering Oliver his arm once more; "you will show me what to buy?"
Oliver nodded, growling eagerly when Wikus resumed their path. The first stop was for meat, something easy and familiar – they had had meat on Earth that wasn't much different from the various sections of animals Wikus had not yet had the honor of seeing alive in person. "Three kinds," he gestured at the different textures and colors, easily a dozen to choose from. "Father likes this one best," he pointed to a thick, fatty shank of dark colored meat, then the much lighter one next to it; "And I like this kind."
Catching the attention of the large male that seemed to be the blood-spattered butcher, Wikus pointed as Oliver had to one and then the other – then waited for the child to tell him what was next. "Which did we have yesterday at third meal?"
Oliver made a string of hollow-throated clicks, the name of the animal no doubt but it called to mind nothing he'd seen in his education yet, and then pointed to a stack of small wrapped chunks on a table.
"Those also," Wikus asked the owner, pointing at the top six – two each.
With a happy churr, the owner wrapped the large package for them – handing it to Oliver who had already opened his pack where it would take most of the room – and then grabbed Wikus' wrist violently. "Very good food, the best here. Price is fair?"
"I'm sure it is…" Wikus' antennae flitted nervously again as the stranger held out a pen-like instrument with a numbered hologram above it. "Is that for all of it?"
"You cheat us!" Oliver growled unexpectedly from Wikus' side; "We are not fools."
The owner laughed, churring loudly as he turned Wikus' wrist to show his freshly scratched markings – clearly making indication he was not typical. "The creature may be…"
Pulling his hand away after the butcher tapped his pen against the coin, Wikus returned the growl aggressively; "I'm not stupid and I'm not… not a creature!"
Oliver patted him hard on the back, his growl dropping back to a good-natured churr as he said; "For the extra charge you will give us two more." He pointed down at the small chunks again, letting out a pleased chirp when the owner nodded agreement and threw two more at him.
"Why would he cheat us?" Wikus asked quietly as they walked away from the booth, the butcher already arguing with a new customer. "He seemed honest…"
"His price was fair," Oliver admitted, dragging him toward a booth bearing fruit and flowers. "It is custom to argue over money, to show that you know value and that you are willing to walk away – he is not the only one selling meat today."
"I… I don't understand." Wikus said, shaking his head again – ready to leave without their fruit or vegetables for the day.
"It is respect." The youth chirped, eyeing a stack of soft white and red fruits. "I am smarter than he is, I am a pilot;" he extended his arm, showing his own marks; "If I do not demand respect he will think I do not have to care about his money or the value of his meat."
He couldn't remember a time he had been so confused, but Wikus forced himself to understand. He must be dominant, to show respect by demanding it – it reminded him of the Nigerians and the way the tribes negotiated in South Africa. Perhaps not so different, he hoped. "I like that fruit…" he pointed toward a white one like the one Christopher had given him on their long journey to the homeworld. "Can we get those?"
"Father says anything you want." Oliver smiled with his wide eyes, looking up at him with a pleasant chirp; "It is your money as much as his."