Ring of Ancient Patterns Engagement

Her name was Olga and all her family was into historical studies. Her father was an archeologist stationed in the Jubilee system, researching the protobiogenesis of the third planet in there for the last few years. Her mother was a xenoethnologist, specializing in mono-theistic societies. Her grandma was a protolinguist and her current obsession might be called “Babushkas”, because she suddenly was finding herself severely into chastushki short songs, printing contemporized nesting dolls and wearing obnoxiously red headdresses she called “platok”.

Her grandma’s interest in the studies of the ancient Earth wasn’t anything new, as could be seen by the name she had insisted on giving to her first and only granddaughter. She told Olga it was the name of a fierce woman who burnt her enemies in a sauna.

Olga was skeptical of the legend, not the kind of image she would have preferred wearing. She herself was a professor of xenocultures with a specialty in Juxxian culture and she had cultivated an iron tolerance toward different kinds of idiotic beliefs some clusters of individuals held to keep themselves sane throughout history.

Yet when one falls in love, a lot may change.

Of course it was a Juxxian boy, or more like, what he would be called within the Earthian Society anyway. Juxxians had evolved into switching genders creatures, with a completely outsourced procreation system. So they still had this big talk in front of them when he asked her to marry him. Or, in contemporary terms, to sign the partnership contract.

Sentimentality came into the picture rather early. When two aliens try to court each other, they try to make the other visible, which is really cute. An Earthian woman trying to cook the acrid worms he calls food. A Juxxian boy brings her flowers, and then they rush to the emergency booth because apparently he’s allergic to them.

So there was even more “awwws” involved when he offered her to choose rings.

Her friends didn’t even know this kind of thing existed - the exchange of oaths, the exchange of rings. It was niche. It was chic because it was niche.

One thing that sort of spoiled her mood in the preparation for nuptials was one call to her grandma. Instead of the anticipated “awww how cute, look at him trying”, she heard, “Baby, don’t you dare to wear it on your finger.”

“But, gran, where am I supposed to wear it then?”

“You can wear it as a … as an amulet, for example. Or not wear it at all!”

“Well, you’ll have to explain more. Is it dangerous? How is it dangerous?”

Gran was silent, her hologram frowning at something in the distance. Then she sipped on her tea and said, “It is only dangerous to Earthian women.”

“Look, I need more to explain it to Kl’ah. He might get hurt, especially with my superstitious approach. You know we’re scientists, gran. I mean, you yourself are a scientist! So give me some proof or it didn’t happen.”

“Yeah, this is going to be hard. But the point is that I should not explain it exactly because…” The old woman huffed in exasperation. “Sorry for not making sense. Anyway, it’s not dangerous. Not lethally, at least. Should not be.”

“So you’re not going to tell me?”

Gran smirked. “Can’t.”

And that was it - Olga was left to do her own research. Which resulted in migraines and a lot of questions from Kl’ah, but other than that brought zero clarity as to what was potentially wrong with wearing a ring.

A lot of cultures had been wearing rings for all kinds of reasons. As a sign of power. As a sign of belonging. Just for the fun of it. People in the Earthian Society no longer wore any accessories like that, mostly because it was impractical - the less you wear, the easier your travel is, and they had to travel a lot from one system to another daily. Also the neurogloves, also different enhancements took place, so it was literally a hardship for Olga to find a ring, light and compatible with her enhancements.

“Well, we are embarking on an experiment then, my dear,” her future husband announced and began keeping the dairy.

Now, looking back at the wedding ceremony, he was finding it rather funny - he had really had no idea what to look for, what to keep the account of.

So his first entries were about her health. Her physiological well-being.

And there were no changes. She looked happy. If anything, she looked happier than ever. Showing off the ring to other people, taking a lot of fun out of geeking out about the meaning of it.

She voluntarily researched the egg-laying procedures and even applied to MasterMind to give them the proper instruction on how to arrange their co-procreation. He had been stalling with it, not really hopeful about MM finding a legal solution to it. Yet, here they were, full on their way of having their own baby.

He remembered the instance he began to protocol Olga’s behaviours. It was only after her grandma call. The gran called him, catching him on his own and asking really specific questions.

“So you’re keeping track of it, right?” She asked, firing up her long pipe.

“Yes. So far everything is good.”

The gran gave him a very intense side-eye.

“Did you take a good and thorough note of what she was before the wedding?”

“Ehm…no. Should have taken, right? Yeah, the basis! I’m dumb.”

“Good. Do it.” Gran squinted at the smoke and exhaled some more of it. Kl’ah was happy it was holographic.

“You say she’s happy?”

“I think so.”

“Does she meet with her friends?”

Kl’ah thought for a moment.

“Now that you mention it, a little less than before, but…”

“Put this down too. Track her every change if you want the evidence.”

And then he did.

And now, looking at her through the hospital window, he knew the irrational depth of it all, yet the evidence was there, right in his diary.

The evidence fixing the way she zoomed on him right after the wedding. She suddenly was into growing the whole bunch of worms to feed him proper diet. She insisted she rewired all the cleaning robots so they would be keeping their living quarters pristinely clean. Which was absolutely ridiculous and they both could do with a little mess here and there. She updated their traveling plan so they could bring more with them - she really did it! She did a lot of things they had been ignoring in their haste to live and work. She took a course in parenting, then another in Juxxian pediatrics and never got back to her studies.

That was the most alarming part for Kl’ah.

The scientist giving up on science.

In the middle of the diary he began to study himself, he recalled. Was it him? Did he ask her to bend over backwards for him?

No. He definitely didn’t.

But what he did was encouraging her with his gratitude. With his improved mood.

“A good wife.”

Her grandma arrived on their planet.

“But - we are partners!” Kl’ah exclaimed instead of greeting.

“Yes. Have you been doing as much, though?”

“No! It wasn’t needed!”

“By whom?”

A long silence ensued.

Not needed by him. He didn’t care for future difficulties. He hoped they would tackle them together. Did she somehow lost… confidence in future self? Or in him? Or was she suddenly afraid of going through the hideous thing the earthian women had instead of egg-planting? He had read about it and he never entertained the slightest idea of putting his dearest creature through such suffering! He’d rather have no DNA-related offspring at all!

“Do you think all earthian women might be subject to this effect?”

Granma shrugged.

“I’m quite afraid so. We still have to rule out the attunement factor - she kind of studied the culture codes, so this might be just… placebo-like computational error in our minds working.”

He knew he had to take off the damned ring.

And he better do it before the egg hatches, or else their child will never know their mother as beautiful and awsome as she was supposed to be.

It’s been thirty-three years since he removed the ring. They had a bright girl hatched out of the egg. Olga returned to her studies right after the hospital incident, after her bout of depression was cured. For the sake of safety they agreed to never tell anything about the ring to their daughter. In fact they did everything in their power to stir her in the direction of any other science than culture or linguistics.

Why didn’t he throw it away though?

It was a pleasant thing. Addictive. To be cared for so thoroughly. Sometimes he even allowed himself to mourn those days that shamefully brought his partner to her degradation and exhaustion.

He just wanted to make sure if that wasn’t the studies talking. That it was indeed the magic of the ring itself.

So when his daughter found this cute earthian tradition and enjoyed showing off her ring to her besties, he started the next journal.

But he promised himself to react quicker than he had done last time, now that he knew where to look. He’d take the ring off the moment he would see his daughter limiting herself consistently of anything she had been enjoying before putting the damned ring on.