WHO: Justice of Toren & Michael WHAT: Documentation WHEN: July 7 WHERE: Fort Neill WARNINGS: Misgendering, reference to loss
After morning tea and the first of many meetings about meetings, the day had taken an unexpected turn involving something akin to gatespace save that it had been shorter than Breq would have expected for how many upon many upon many miles it had taken her. The provided date, when compared to historical calendars, was actually historic, so that this location was as far back in time as it was away in space. For all that it mattered what had been planned, it was now so distant as to be moot.
Instead, it had involved a calm conversation with armed soldiers who had explained some of the bare basics. Once their immediate intentions were clearly not combat, Breq had lowered her armor and gone along as reasonably as she could. She had cooperated with Medical, asking a few questions about what was being done with her blood and understanding the need to avoid introducing new diseases or new forms of them. A concerned communication from Station - Athoek Station to be precise, given she was nowhere near Athoek system - settled where Breq would live. It also took a few silent moments to calm and to reassure Station that, no, everyone else was not dead, they were simply not here. Breq would be there as soon as she could, but there was more yet.
It came to time for documentation. Earth, that ancient font of humanity, had hosted so many cultures across so long a period of time that it was not immediately apparent to Breq just exactly what was typical in a name. Others may have whisked through this portion of the intake, but she had questions and concerns before committing to a name that could mark her as a foreigner, an outsider. She had already noted how pale most people were here. Her skin, unnotable in the Radch or the Gerentate, stood out here.
“Greetings,” Breq greeted the person she was being handed off to. She had the same pale skin many others had, as well as white hair. It was a natural shade, which combined with the lines on her face gave the impression she was older than many of the people that Breq had met so far. Her knowledge of ancient history was too spotty to know the correct honorific, and if this person were displaced - the term used here - as well, then that would not necessarily be the right culture to consider.
“I have been told you are able to identify us on your own,” Breq appreciated the second person not requiring the use of a gender. “I do not mean to be difficult,” Breq motioned sincerity, as well as some awkwardness to the matter, “but I have had many names in my life, and so far from home, I do not know which ones might be appropriate. Would you be willing to discuss proper etiquette before we make my identification?”
Michael sighed and looked up at the newest arrival. He still felt glum and not himself since Janet’s disappearance, but there was still enough pride, after his initial meltdown, to continue along with the bet. Which meant as fun as it might have been to lead the newest arrival astray, he could not.
“Humans have selected names like Cheese and Melanomia for their young. You’d be amazed what people will shrug off as normal or mildly unfortunate if you just explain your parents were hippies. Now what questions did you have exactly?”
Michael leaned forward in his desk, resting his chin on his hands.
In the right place, a name like Cheese may have fit in, but as it was an example of something that could be shrugged off, it was the sort Breq wanted to avoid. It also told her people had given names - most did - but little else. At least some people here had family names; her introductions so far had made that clear. But the world outside had its own norms. And it was preferable to fit them. For her. She gave a small shrug that accepted the given premise to a degree.
“I am curious as to the number and structure of names commonly used here,” Breq replied. “Most places I have been, people have given names and family names, though the order depends where one is. I would also appreciate knowing the common courtesy titles, so as not to be rude when addressing people.” Her behavior was not what Breq would have expected from a Radchaai working in Administration. But she was farther from the Radch than she had ever been.
“Three names are common. Two given names and a family name. Titles are usually ‘sir’ or ‘ma’am’ depending upon gender. Some displaced women will prefer ‘miss’ as ‘ma’am’ sounds old, but in Texas, ‘ma’am’ is more common and considered more polite. There will be, among the displaced, those who are uncomfortable with any title and simply prefer to be addressed by name.”
Michael leaned a bit to one side. His expressions could be comical, like a child trying very hard to behave. Instead of fidgeting, it was mostly his eyes that wandered.
“Anything else, dear?” he asked.
Breq nodded. Family name was a tricky subject for her. When she had taken a Gerentate identity, she had chosen an appropriate family name. But after the battle at Omaugh Palace, once Anaander Mianaai had created the conceit that Breq was a human, a citizen, and a member, rather than equipment, of the military, she had forced her name upon Breq, so that she had been forced to use it in Athoek. It had even been cited, when it came to the conclave with the Presger. So it had clung to her, despite everyone knowing exactly who and what she was.
She had also held only one given name, Breq. It was not entirely sorted out. But one choice was immediately clear: Breq would not use the tyrant’s name here.
‘Dear’ was a term used in vastly different ways in different cultures. Breq had little idea what she meant by it. Her face was expressive but more like a Presger translator’s than anyone else Breq had met. The comparison was concerning. “You look like you are experiencing strong emotions,” Breq replied. She considered those two titles, with absolutely no idea which one applied here. “What is the matter, dear?” That one did not have a gender. And she had used it first.
Michael let out a long, painful sigh. “Yes, I am experiencing strong emotions. It’s really quite terrible.” He stared distantly, as though forgetting to answer the rest of the question. “Now, your name is really quite too long for most official documentation on this planet. How would you like it to be written on your identification paperwork?”
Breq waited during the pause. She sounded less and less human with each interaction. Breq - and the Radch - only knew of three alien species, of which the Presger were the only ones to build anything like a human. But they were too distant for her to presume that was who she was dealing with. “Breq Justice Toren,” she replied. It was as close to something that was her as was possible by their customs.
“You don’t look angry,” Breq said. She knew anger and recognized it easily.
“No, I’m not angry,” Michael said. His tone was somewhere between gentle and exhausted. “Breq Justice Toren is a lovely name. I think it will do nicely here.” Michael opened up a drawer and started pulling out the documentation Breq would need, all with the decided upon name, as though it had been waiting there the entire time.
“Driver’s License,” Michael said, holding it up, showing her the card which already had her picture on it. “This is the standard identification. It is issued by the state of Texas, which is part of the United States Government, which is colloquially known as America. Now this is your passport.”
Michael held up the next document, which looked more like a little blue book with blank pages. “This identification is issued by the federal government. You’ll want to use it if you travel internationally on this planet. Currently there are no forms of identification issued globally for space travel. Humans haven’t gotten that far yet.”
Michael proceeded to go through other documents, explaining the purpose of each one; a pilot’s license, a concealed carry permit, a library card, a punch card to one of the coffee shops with two punches already punched-- very important to making her wallet look native --her made up tax records for the past three years, a birth certificate, a high school diploma, a university degree, a graduate degree, a year book of the imaginary high school she’d gone to, complete with awkward high school picture inside it.
The demon was, during his month of kindness, being extra thorough with the documentation.
Each piece of documentation was noted, along with queries to search for further information in her own time. Mostly, they made sense. It was unusual for all these records to be physical, but it was the ancient past. There was no AI running this base - it was a military base - so their records were more disjointed. There were advantages to that. Without high level interference, it was much more difficult to forge these documents in the Radch.
The high school photo closely resembled what this segment had looked like when it had been thawed out and hooked up to Justice of Toren. That was more remarkable than the rest of it. “Thank you, these are well done,” Breq replied, upon receiving the last of it.
It had been heavily implied that everyone here - in this base, not the town nearby - were in a similar position to her, that was, this was to some degree not their time or place. That isolation from what one knew, whether it was wholly different or some close facsimile wrong when closely inspected, could do terrible things to a person. Breq thought of the displacement Seivarden had felt upon waking a thousand years in suspension, everyone she knew, even her house, gone.
“I am sorry for your loss, ma’am,” Breq took guesses, both as to what this emotional distress was tied to and the woman’s gender. She left off ‘grandmother’ because if there were signs of having children and grandchildren in her culture, Breq did not know them. She only looked about the right age, and plenty of people lived so long without having children.
Michael blinked and regarded the newest arrival. His frown deepened though, there had been enough distance and comfort from his friends that he did not break down into tears over Janet’s arrival again. For Janet was who he thought of when she mentioned loss. “Thank you,” he said, stunned at how insightful she was.
He was so touched, it didn’t really cross his mind to correct Breq’s use of ma’am. Really, it was fine. It was probably rude to correct the newest arrival so soon anyway. The good thing to do was to accept the condolences for what they were.
“If you need anything,” Michael said, “you may ask on the network. Chances are someone with the capability will get you what you need. It’s hard to say. The people here can be very insular and narrow minded at times. But, what can you expect from mortals. Am I right?” He gave a soft chuckle.
Breq motioned consolation on her loss to match her words. It had been the right guess. And loss was something close to universal. Even the Presger understood it on some level, the loss of something of significance presumably, based on the treaty and the careful interactions it had forced.
It also gave her time to evaluate what her host had said about people, about mortals. Spaceships could live for long periods of time, thousands of years. So long as they received a certain level of maintenance when necessary, they could well be immortal. Breq could no longer say as much; her continued existence was only in this body. If - when - it died, she would finish what had started twenty years before, dying.
She gestured ambivalence. “People can be unexpectedly generous or blindingly self-centered,” Breq replied. That self could be extended to family, clients, and houses as they were perceived as part of one’s identity, some extension of herself. But people had always been capable of both, the best and the worst. All people were, whether they had been forced to act during the most trying of circumstances or not. “It is easy to be blind to what doesn’t affect you if it is not forced upon you,” she said. That was as true for spaceships, for anyone, as it was mortals.
“I suppose,” Michael sighed, though he wasn’t sure he entirely agreed with that either. He didn’t have it in him to debate just then. It was just as well. “Can I assist you with anything else, Breq?”
Breq considered. A query to Station revealed how far away it was from this base. It was not so distant Breq could not walk it, but with the prosthetic, Station preferred she did not. Breq could also recognize that it would not be pleasant for either of her legs. “Begging your or the commander’s indulgence,” Breq replied politely, “Either a ride or access to a vehicle to drive to Athoek Station would be greatly appreciated.” She would need to obtain a vehicle for herself, given a little time.
“I would be more than happy to teleport you to Athoek Station if you’d like,” Michael gently offered. Teleporting was far more preferable to driving. Especially in Texas.
Breq paused for a few seconds, her fingers slightly twitching. She had both looked up the meaning of teleportation and discussed it with Station. “Thank you, ma’am,” Breq replied as politely as she could. “As quick as that might be, I would prefer not to leave real space for this first trip.” Station felt uncomfortable with her doing anything like spaceship travel, something that - for the slightest moment - would leave her disconnected. Breq thought Station had a harder time of this than she did, so she deferred.
“I’ll call you an Uber,” Michael said. It was still kind if he provided her with transportation, was it not? “My treat.”