Alien Tech is for the Dogs

In 2020, a scouting craft buzzed a small planet in the goldie locks band of a far-off solar system. The craft, known as the Indomitable, in the language of its people, did not stop to investigate the planet, but they did do passive scanning. NASA caught sight of it as it flew away. It looked a lot like a cylinder with a ball at the end of it. It did not have any markings that they could see, so they chalked it up to being a space rock. The crew of the Indomitable knew they found something though. They found evidence of civilization, technology, and the basics of space travel. In short, they found a potential customer. 

In 2025, a commercial craft from the same civilization arrived in Earth’s orbit, fully prepared to trade its trinkets for Earth’s great resources. While there were skeptics, the mass majority of the human population could hardly believe their luck. They were going to have the technology of the stars, all for acetone and other non-recyclable industrial waste products. It was a complete win-win situation. 

In 2028 a new technology from the non-terrestrials, the Askkists, hit the mass markets on Earth and it changed everything. It was the universal translator. It translates all spoken and non-spoken languages so that they can be understood by anyone, even if they do not have a translator themselves. It revolutionized global government and policies. It streamlined communications at workplaces, and it helped people understand isolated cultures. 

Just as the internet could be used as a source of unlimited learning and understanding, but is instead dedicated to cats, the universal translator became the toy of the fur-parent. Gone were the days of using repetitive training to convince your dog not to potty in the kitchen. Gone were the days of using sticky tapes to keep your cat off the shelves. Now you could just tell your pet what to do, and have him listen… or not. 

***

“Victory, please stop calling your brother a butt-face!” Mom calls from the living room. I’m in the kitchen, with Butt-face. His real name is Damien, but you know what, since I got my new translation collar, I can call him a Butt-face, and have everyone hear it. If I can’t, then what’s the point of having a brother?

“Victory, Mom said to stop calling me that!” Damien echoes what Mom just got done saying. His big dark brown eyes look even bigger against his black fur. He has some white on him, too, but not much. Just a bib and a single white toe on his back paw. He says he is an African Painted Dog because of it. He is really just a pit-bull mutt like me. The difference is, I am a pretty pit-bull mutt. I am white with tan markings down my back like the royal robes of office or a cape. I have a brown eye and a blue one, so one to match Mom’s and one to match Dad’s eyes. Damien just matches Mom’s.

“And that’s why you’re a Butt-face,” I coolly inform him. I then prance off into the living room to sit with Dad. He knows that Damien is a Butt-face, he’s the one who taught me that word. Granted, I could not speak when he taught it to me, but that’s beside the point. I learned all kinds of things before I had the words to express them myself. Mom and Dad were surprised at the things we know. 

We got our new translation collars a couple of weeks ago. They look like regular dog collars, but they don’t attach to a leash and they hang a little looser than a traditional collar should. Damien’s is a royal blue color with little teal diamond designs on it. Mine is pink, with flowers on it. We did not get a choice, we could not talk yet. It did not take long for them to start working though, or for us to figure out how to keep our thoughts to ourselves and use our words like we want to. Watching Mom and Dad’s responses helped a lot. 

Damien trots into the room shortly after I do. He looks up at Dad, but since I’m on Dad’s lap, he will have to sit with the Spare, otherwise known as Mom. That is okay for him, he prefers Mom anyway. Mom likes to give tight hugs and cuddles, and Damien loves those. He’s such a Mommy’s boy. Since it is winter, Mom lifts up the blanket she is cuddling under and lets Damien tuck in next to her. This is his favorite spot in the world.

“Victory, your brother loves you. It hurts his feelings when you call him a Butt-face. How would you like it if he called you something mean?” Mom says. 

“He wouldn’t dare. Besides, I wouldn’t mind. I would pay him no mind at all,” I answer back with a sniffle. At that, all eyes turn towards me. None of them look like they are believing a word I say. They might be right.

“Victory, you spent almost a year refusing to answer to any other name than Victory or Queen Victory. If he called you a Butt-face, you would have a fit. Hell, you throw a fit if he calls you ‘BG’, which is your nickname!” That’s Dad, trying to use logic and history to stop an argument. The only way it stops is if I win. Everyone knows this. 

“On another topic, did you hear that there is a faction of dogs and cats that are applying for citizenship and personhood in California?” Mom is always keeping up with the news. Ever since she blew off the news of the Askkists flyby and their subsequent landing, she has vowed not to make the same mistake again. She will treat the news as important, investigate it fully for scams, and then act on it. It is amazing how one alien invasion is enough to change a person. 

“What would they do with personhood? Pay taxes?” Dad asks. I nudge his hand, looking for ear rubs. I should not need to tell him to do his job. Luckily, he picks up on it pretty quickly. 

“According to what I was reading, yes. They want to have the right to pick where they live, the jobs that they have, and even the right to money and contracts. It is headed by a cat, Mr. Pavel. He says that he wants a life beyond just being a pampered house cat. He dreams of a job in politics. He also wants to see cats and dogs join the exploration teams on future space missions.”

“Well, it sounds like he is on his way to having that dream. I wish him the best. The tests that proved that cats and dogs are far more intelligent than previously thought, make it more compelling that he might actually get his wish for personhood. After all, the Great Apes got it. Now they are busy taking over the construction industry.” 

Mom looks back down to her tablet, rereading the news. “You guys are happy, right? We are not holding you back from living your best life, are we?” Mom asks Damien and me. She sounds worried. I know she worries a lot about being the best mom she can be and that we might not be living our best lives.  

I stop and think about it for a moment. When I dream, do I dream of work? When I think about the future, do I see this family and this life? Could I do better, be better? “Ha! You cannot get rid of us so easily! You signed the paperwork stating that you would take care of us forever, no take-backs. You’re stuck with us,” I answer for the two of us. I know where our bread, which I can’t actually have, is buttered.

“Mommy, I would never leave you,” Damien answers, cuddling up tighter to her. He is such a Butt-face.