#EIDW

[marlynnofmany]

The Good Perch

“You would think,” Captain Sunlight said drily, “That a spaceport organized enough to have a whole section for courier ships would have a more visible labeling system.”

“Yeah, really,” I agreed with a frown at the small sign marking our ship’s berth. The thing was barely ankle-height and a thin font. Not even a bright color; it hardly stood out from the pavement in its gray-and-black subtlety. With all the spacefarers parading past in a rainbow of body types and clothing styles, not to mention the equally wild spaceships everywhere, those signs were easy to miss. I asked the captain, “Have you been here before? Is this normal, or did the wrong person take charge of designing things?”

“It’s been a while,” said Captain Sunlight, crossing her scaly arms. “I don’t recall this being a problem before. But I suspect our wayward client is still wandering the walkways looking for us.”

“Normally I’d say our ship would stand out, but the visibility’s not great for that either.” Lemon-shaped spaceships with foldable solar sails were pretty uncommon. The one parked behind us would have been easy to spot from a distance if not for the larger ships looming close on either side. These berths were too close together.

Captain Sunlight pulled her phone out of a belt pouch. “Still says they’re on the way.”

“Maybe we need to scoot forward a bit?” I suggested. “Make the ship easier to see?” I stepped up to the walkway for a better look at the view from there.

This turned out to give someone else a better view of me.

“Hey, person who climbs things!” called a cheerful voice. “Come help me brace this.”

After a confused half-second, I located the speaker on top of the gray-brown ship next to ours. I realized with a start that this wasn’t the first time our ships had been parked side-by-side. “Hey, Acorn!” I called back. “Are you waiting for clients too?”

“We were,” the fellow courier called back, waving something that looked like a wrench. She herself still looked like a baboon crossed with a crocodile. “Now it’s time for errands and maintenance, and this needs fixing before we get back into space. Care to give me a hand? Everybody else is either busy or too much of a coward to get up this high.”

“Sure thing!” I said with a glance at Captain Sunlight, who was waving me on. “What’s the best way up?”

Acorn directed me to a row of handholds on the other side of the ship, which made for a nice easy climb. A pity her crewmates didn’t appreciate heights; the spaceport was a beautiful, chaotic sprawl of color from here. And the top of the ship was flat enough to feel plenty safe.

“Welcome to the good perch,” Acorn said, offering me a wrench. “It’s a very exclusive club. Can you hold this part in place so I can adjust that?”

“Absolutely,” I told her. “This end, right? Wait, got it.” I actually had no idea what this open panel was for, but I like to think I hid it well. The job was a simple one with two of us. I could see how it would have been awkward with just one, though. I wondered if she’d resorted to using her feet to hold things in place. I sure would have.

“Got it!” she said. “Now to close it all up. I knew that would be quick.”

I removed the wrench. “What’s the saying? More hands means less work?”

“Makes sense to me. Though by that logic, your friend there could get everything done by himself.”

I looked down to see that Mur had joined Captain Sunlight, in all his many-tentacled squidlike glory. “He probably could, actually. Though I don’t know how he is with heights.”

“Well, no need to share the good perch,” Acorn announced, snapping the panel shut. She spread her arms. “Look at this panorama!”

“It is a nice one! I was just thinking that. What kind of ship is that blobby green one over there? I haven’t seen it before.”

Acorn stood up for a better look. “I think it’s a Waterwill design?”

“That makes sense.” I got to my feet too, glad the ship we stood on wasn’t one of the shiny racer models. Those were much too slippery to make good sightseeing towers.

Not that Acorn seemed bothered either way. She probably would have found grippy shoes somewhere and run up the side just to prove she could. Her appreciation for climbing had been a nice change the first time I ran into her, and was no different now, given how much time I spent among alien crewmates who didn’t have tree-swinging monkeys in their family trees.

“That ship looks like it would make an excellent climbing structure,” she said, pointing at a pink model with grooves along the sides. “Pity it belongs to a security force who are likely to be uptight about such things.”

I laughed. “Isn’t that always the way of it? There’s a police station in my hometown with a roof that slopes down to meet a very climbable wall, and you have no idea how tempting it looked. Well. Maybe you know.”

She definitely understood, and we spent an enjoyable few minutes talking about which buildings and spaceships looked like the most fun to climb.

Then I spotted someone wandering from one berth marker to the next, looking both lost and a little nearsighted, and I had a suspicion that I’d found our missing client. This was a fellow human wearing the kind of drapey clothes that spoke of dignity and no little wealth. Her expression was exactly the kind I’d wear if I had to deal with those hard-to-read signs long enough to be late.

“Hey Captain!” I called down to Sunlight. “Is that her?” I pointed.

Captain Sunlight hurried forward with her phone out, matching the look of the person with an image there.

Yup. Called it.

Acorn chuckled while the pair of them exchanged greetings and complaints about the station layout. “Nice one. The wisdom of the heights strikes again. Do they need you down there now?”

“Probably,” I said. “Actually not yet, this package is a small one. Mur’s got it.” As I spoke, Mur pushed a hovercart forward with a box on it liberally covered in “fragile” stickers. It had a carrying handle on the top, which it had come with, and rubber bumpers on every corner, which Paint had added just to be safe. All precautions had been taken.

“Oh good,” Acorn said. “Then enjoy the view with me a little longer.” She bent to pull something from the toolbag’s side pocket. “Top-of-the-tree snack?”

“Are those the ones you’re named for?” I asked, remembering a conversation the last time I’d seen her. Translations being what they were, her name meant a similar nut from her homeworld. It had been an amusing conversation, since we were both named after things found in trees. She didn’t know what a robin was, but once I explained it, she claimed to have met a number of people back home with similar names.

“Yes, the salted version,” Acorn said, opening the bag. “I recall these were on the safe list for your species.”

“Safe and tasty,” I agreed. “Thank you.” I accepted a handful of alien acorns and marveled quietly at how universal salt was on snacks. Well, for some species. I don’t think Waterwills or Strongarms were that into overly salty food in general. Probably for slug-like reasons. Eggskin the medic would know. I should ask him later.

Acorn peered over the other side of the ship. “Ohh, Riverbrook’s wearing his goofy helmet. I owe him some acoustics since he played that loud music while I was working.” She crouched, peering down at a crewmate who had just emerged. With care, she selected a nut from the bag. “Think you can thwack him from here?” The grin she threw over her shoulder was full of teeth.

I joined her at the edge. “I like my odds.”

The crewmate was one of those people made of crystals instead of flesh. I forget the species name. Very interesting to look at, and unlikely to be hurt by a high velocity acorn no matter where it hit. The helmet was golden, shiny, and probably a fashion statement of some kind.

“First we throw, then we hide.”

“Got it.”

“One, two, throw!”

Ping! Ping!

“Ow, what was — Acorn, is this yours?!”

We both giggled in childlike glee, just out of sight.

“No thanks, you can have it!” Acorn called back.

“I’m going to put this in your fruit drink next mealtime.”

“Good luck with that!”

I nodded. “Ah, a prank war. A noble pursuit.”

“See, you get it.” Acorn offered me more nuts.

I took them and made myself more comfortable. “I don’t suppose you know what a rattlesnake is?”

“Nope.”

“Then let me tell you about the time I got Trrili — the big scary Mesmer on my ship — with a classic prank from Earth.”

“Oh, do tell!”

I didn’t have to get back to my ship for a few minutes yet, which left plenty of time for more anecdotes and snacks on the good perch.

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come! And I am currently drafting a sequel!

[davebriggs007]

N243PC | Privately owned | Cessna 700 Citation Longitude | CN 700-0039 | Built 2020 | DUB/EIDW 09/05/2024 by MBE Aviation Photography

[nocternalrandomness]

Shamrock 105 cleared to the active at EIDW

[ukaviationnews]

Ryanair calls on IAA to scrap Dublin Airport traffic cap

Irish budget airline Ryanair (FR/RYR) has called on the Irish Aviation Authority to scrap the 32 million passenger traffic cap at Dublin Airport (DUB/EIDW) after it was warned it would not receive extra slots for sporting events or extra Christmas flights. The cap means that Dublin Airport is currently running to 100% of its allowed traffic despite having the capacity to handle more passengers…

[29aviation]

#Icelandair Boeing 757-200 climbing away from Runway 10 at #DublinAirport... Very strange seeing an Icelandair #B757 without the winglets. Although the numbers of flights and passengers is still a long way below pre-Covid levels, Icelandair are now operating over 120 international flights per week out of Keflavik, having previously been down to only a handful of weekly international flights at one point. #B752 #Boeing757 #EIDW #DUB #KEF #KEF #BIKF #Keflavik #Reykjavik #BoeingLovers #Iceland #Airlines #AviationPhotos #AviationWorld #AircraftPhotography #AviationEverywhere (at Dublin Airport) https://www.instagram.com/p/CQ6ZH63riFr/?utm_medium=tumblr

[sacharon]

Cloudlayer over Dublin in 2000ft (SCT020CB the atis)

[andyelson]

https://twitter.com/BeckyLynchWWE/status/1554289194306093058?t=9mrxJXWi5S9xaZqbs-EIDw&s=19

maybe another baby

[marlynnofmany]

Junkyard Playground

A regular whacking noise is not something you want to hear while strolling through a spaceship crash site that’s been reclaimed by forest. The locals had promised that nothing dangerous would come near us while we delivered their supplies, but clients had been wrong before. Also we’d already delivered the stuff, so maybe that promise didn’t cover the walk back. And anyway, even a timid herbivore can get wild when it’s tangled in debris.

Thinking of several unfortunate animals I’d known in my veterinarian days, I glanced down at Paint to see if she’d noticed the sounds.

Paint’s eyes were wide. She moved with more lizardlike twitchiness than usual, her head skipping side-to-side, scanning the bushes and twisted metal like she’d smelled something that wanted to eat us, but wasn’t sure if it had spotted us yet.

I stopped walking. In an undertone, I asked, “Do you want to take a different route?”

Paint froze, snout still moving. “Maybe.” Another whack sounded.

I opened my mouth to suggest a detour around the tallest chunks of hull, or whatever they were, when I heard something that made it all better.

Mur complaining.

“Oh, for the sake of sudden waves, aim to the left!”

The answering voice was more subdued, but sounded testy. The whacking stopped.

Paint managed to perk up and relax at the same time. “Oh, it’s them!” She took off through the undergrowth faster than was probably wise, given that her species wasn’t fond of shoes. I hurried after.

A big section of wall loomed ahead, made of something too smooth for alien moss to grow on. The voices were coming from the other side.

Paint beat me there. “Hey!” she said brightly. “I thought your delivery was in the other direction!”

I caught up, swinging around the corner to find squidlike Mur perched on a hoversled full of small boxes — though with one conspicuous empty spot — while Coals stood nearby. He held a long cable in both scaly hands like he’d been whipping something with it.

“It is,” Mur said to Paint, waving a tentacle halfheartedly in greetings. “Local fauna stole a box.”

“Where?” I asked, looking sharply for anything that could have been on the receiving end of that cable-whip. But Coals pointed up.

Up to where the smooth wall gave way to exploded metal shapes, with a familiar white plasteel shipping box caught between them. No fauna in sight.

“It flew off right away,” Coals told me, pulling the cable back to sling it in an underhanded throw that rebounded off the wall with a familiar sound.

“Oh dear,” Paint said.

“Yeah,” Mur grumbled. “Luckily our client specified they’d be there all day, otherwise we would be very late.”

“Why not call back to the ship?” I asked, looking for something to climb, but coming up with nothing.

“That,” said Coals, throwing again, “Would be embarrassing.”

“Why?” I asked, looking at Mur.

He sighed, drooping back like a deflating balloon. “Both Trrili and Zhee volunteered for this delivery, but we’d already claimed it, and we told them it was fine.”

“Annnd,” I said, visualizing one of our insectlike crewmates stretching up the wall farther than I could ever reach. “They’d never let you live it down.”

“Oh yeah, they’d be insufferable,” Mur said. “I don’t even know if Zhee could reach it, but Trrili definitely could, and neither of them would let that go in a hurry.”

“I really thought I could get it with this,” Coals said.

“Can I try?” I asked.

He willingly handed it over, and I gave it a shot, having better luck with an overhanded angle that human shoulders were more suited to. I hit the box squarely, with a resounding whack from above and a cheer from Paint, but the box just rattled in place. I kept at it.

Finally my arms were tired and the box was still up there. “We might just have to call it in, guys,” I said.

Mur groaned theatrically while Coals wordlessly took the cable back to give it another go.

Paint looked around. “Isn’t there anything else we can do?” she asked.

Mur ticked things off on his tentacles. “Can’t reach it. Can’t dislodge it. This sled’s height only adjusts a little. Nothing to climb up. Nothing to climb down. No friendly local fauna ready to give it back. If you have other ideas, I am ready to catch them.” He splayed his tentacles in a sun-ray pattern that looked more than a little sarcastic.

But as I looked at the misshapen metal hanging above us, and the lower curve behind us that could be climbed onto, and the nice sturdy cable…I had the seed of an idea.

“What if we swing up to it?” I suggested.

“What?” Mur asked.

“How do you mean?” Coals asked, stepping away as the cable fell after a particularly awkward throw.

“We can loop the cable over that part!” I said, warming to the idea. I pointed up at what might have been an internal hull beam once. “Then swing up like it’s a vine — or wait, even better!” I scrambled over to where a rectangular grate poked out of a shrub. Hopefully the plant wasn’t poisonous. “We can tie it to this!”

Paint cocked her head at a sharp angle. “Why?”

“To make a swing!” I said, grinning as I yanked it free. The thing wasn’t even that heavy; perfect.

While my alien coworkers watched, I set about making the most epic of playground swings from broken spaceship junk. The cable flew over the beam just fine. It didn’t even hit anyone in the head on the way down. Fastening it to the sides of the grate was a little tricky, but I was able to shove it through the holes and tie a pair of bulky knots underneath that probably wouldn’t come loose mid-swing. Probably.

I checked the area for anything especially sharp just in case. Flying off to smack into a wall would be bad enough without the chance of impaling myself on the remains of some spacefaring bathroom sink.

“Are you sure about this?” Paint asked as I clambered up onto the curved thing, towing the swing along with one hand.

“All the pieces look strong enough!” I said. I’d done plenty of tugging to be sure. “And the box isn’t really that high up, all things considered.”

Mur saluted with two tentacles, not moving from the sled. “Better you than me.”

“That’s the spirit,” I laughed. Getting into position was more of a delicate affair than I’d expected, since the cable didn’t reach quite far enough. Guess I’d just have to do a bit of hop-and-butt-shuffle.

“But—” Paint said anxiously.

Coals put a hand on her shoulder. “The physics holds up,” he said. “I don’t think it’s scary for a human.”

“Not a bit!” I agreed. “Here goes!” With that, I jumped into position on the grate, swinging forward at a speed that would have made little playground-monkey Child Me clap for joy.

I almost reached the box on the first swing.

Paint sounded disappointed, but she was clearly unfamiliar with the fine art of pumping the legs. Another couple goes, and I swung high enough to catch a hand on a jutting bit of something at the peak of my swing.

I hung there for a heartbeat, both arms looped around the cable, extremely aware of the long drop below me, then I stuck a leg out and kicked the box free. It was sturdy enough to land in one piece.

Before letting go, I made certain that I was in position with my other hand clutching the cable (with the appropriate amount of nerves).

Then I let go of the bar and fell.

The swing downward was much more adrenaline-ridden than the ride up, with a moment of freefall before the cable jerked taut and bounced me back toward my original launch platform. I held that cable in a death grip, pressing my butt into the grate hard enough to leave a waffle pattern that I would tell no one about. I almost hit my foot on a spar that I hadn’t gone near the first time.

But I made it.

When the swing finally slowed enough for me to drag my feet through the rubble, Paint ran over, full of praise.

“You did it! That was amazing!”

“Nice kick,” Coals added. He put the box onto the cart; not a scratch on it.

Mur moved out of the way. “We may just have to tell the others after all, because that was impressive.”

“Glad it worked!” I said, getting back onto my feet with only a little shakiness. “This stuff made a great swing. Pity we can’t take it with us.”

Paint craned her neck up at it. “You said this is something from a recreation center? Is it spacefarer training for acceleration?”

I laughed at that. “No,” I said. “Human training for being a human. Kids love these. They even have special seats for babies who can’t hold themselves in place yet.”

Paint looked horrified.

Coals just shook his head quietly while Mur did some chuckling of his own.

“That explains so much about you,” Mur said. “Come on, let’s drop this off then go tell Trrili. Maybe next time we visit a human settlement they’ll have one of these big enough for her to ride. She’d hate it.”

Coals nodded. “She would.”

Paint grimaced but said nothing.

I smiled. “I actually do know a place like that.”

“Of course you do,” said Mur. “Onward!”

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come!

[faiza-sq]

#sultanulashiqeentv #team_sultanulashiqeen #SultanulAshiqeen #sultanulfaqr #RamzanOutfit #LifeDuringRamadan #RamzanParty #MyTransition #EidwithEdhi #ramadanrecipes #snackpoetryhttp://sck.io/p/3sj1jyvY

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[bradi]

#sultanulashiqeentv #team_sultanulashiqeen #SultanulAshiqeen #sultanulfaqr #RamzanOutfit #LifeDuringRamadan #RamzanParty #MyTransition #EidwithEdhi #ramadanrecipes #snackpoetryhttp://sck.io/p/dbp69xzO

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[29aviation]

#AerLingus Airbus #A330 about to touch down on Runway 28 after her overnight Trans-Atlantic voyage from #NewYorkJFK back in 2019 as the new tower was being built. #Shamrock #EIDW #DUB #DublinAirport #JFK #KJFK #A332 #AirbusLovers #Eire #AviationLovers #AvGeek #MegaAviation #AviationPhotography #AviationGeek (at Dublin Airport) https://www.instagram.com/p/CUF3zOirvGd/?utm_medium=tumblr

[steadygraphicdesignquotesperson]

#sultanulashiqeentv #team_sultanulashiqeen #SultanulAshiqeen #sultanulfaqr #RamzanOutfit #LifeDuringRamadan #RamzanParty #MyTransition #EidwithEdhi #ramadanrecipes #snackpoetryhttp://sck.io/p/tP9FQMd6

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05/05

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[abdulhaseebsq]

WOW! I found a great video. Tap to view it! http://sck.io/p/c0bqdtLD

[sufism-faqr]

#sultanulashiqeentv #team_sultanulashiqeen #SultanulAshiqeen #sultanulfaqr #RamzanOutfit #LifeDuringRamadan #RamzanParty #MyTransition #EidwithEdhi #ramadanrecipes #snackpoetryhttp://sck.io/p/LJq1jE8w

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[marlynnofmany]

Talking Sports

“And then I found out we weren’t the only species to invent football!” I said to Wio as she opened food packets. Normally I would have enjoyed watching the way someone with tentacles unwraps things, but I was focused on my story. “I mean, I know it’s a very simple concept, but that was incredibly strange to turn the corner and see a bunch of beefy dinosaur-looking people tackling the quarterback.”

“I’m sure,” Wio said, popping the lid off a jar. “Is this one of the ‘gimme the ball’ games, or ‘get rid of the ball’ games?”

“Um.” I paused to think. “I guess you can categorize them like that, can’t you? Never thought about it. It’s a ‘gimme the ball.’”

“Are those the more common type?” Wio pushed my own lunch tray towards me, which I’d forgotten about.

“Thanks. Maybe?” I poked through the stack of individually-wrapped human foods as I thought. These were from another mystery box of Earth stuff from our last supply run. I started with the turkey jerky. “There’s a lot of sports to keep track of. Fighting to keep the ball is football — and rugby, which is similar — soccer, where you just use your feet; basketball, where you have to keep bouncing the ball; hockey, where you smack it across the ground with a stick… Oh, and lacrosse, where you throw it with a stick that has a net on it. And I’m probably forgetting a ton.”

“Mm,” Wio said conversationally. She scooped up a mouthful of stinky fish paste with the Strongarm version of a spoon, which had a handle shaped like a jumbo tongue depressor. She didn’t bother grabbing it, just sticking her suction cups to the underside. “That’s six. What about games where the goal is to chuck the ball into the sun?”

I talked over a bite of jerky. “There’s probably not as many, at least if you’re strict about the definition. In baseball you’d definitely be a star if you hit the ball into orbit, but the others tend to have a specific place where you want the ball to go. That can be the other side of the court, like tennis, volleyball, or badminton — or even ping-pong — but then there’s golf, where it looks like you’re trying to whack the ball as far as possible, but really you’re aiming for a tiny hole at the end of the field.”

“Six again,” Wio commented. “Or just one, depending on definitions.”

“I know I’m forgetting some,” I said. “What else is there where you throw the ball as far as possible? I mean, there’s competitive javelin throwing, but that’s not the same kind of game. One person at a time going for the highest score, instead of two teams playing against each other at the same time. With javelins, that would just be actual warfare, and then you’d be aiming at people anyway, not going for distance.”

Wio finished the fish paste. “You do seem to have a lot of team games,” she said. “I’m used to more of that ‘highest score’ kind.”

“Yeah?” I asked, intrigued. “What kind of sports do Strongarms have?”

“Well, we do have some that are cooperative,” she admitted. “At least where I’m from. A lot of races, some with an object to carry and a goal. Sometimes the object is a teammate. And there are a few varieties of wrestling, some with limitations or challenging locations.”

“That sounds fun. Challenging how?” I reached for more jerky, and realized the package was empty. I moved on to a squeeze-tube of applesauce.

“Oh, there’s a bunch of options,” Wio said, waving a tentacle. “People are always coming up with more. My favorite is probably the balancing on top of a pole one.”

“Cool.” The applesauce was nice and cinnamon-y. “Do you have a least favorite?”

“In a box,” she said immediately. “That one is stupid and hard.”

“I bet!” I said.

Wio began peeling what looked like a blue-and-green onion. “But anyway, most of the competitions are solo challenges. Lots of puzzles. And many of the ones with multiple people acting at once are just a way of saving time so we don’t have to wait to see who’s best at the puzzle.”

“Do you do any climbing?” I asked. “Obstacle courses?”

“Oh sure,” she said. “Some of the races are vertical. And there’s a whole category of seeing who can wriggle through odd-shaped openings the fastest.”

I watched her peel the thing, which had far more layers than I’d expected. “Sounds like the only games with a ball to move around are the races. Some of them.”

Wio paused and stared at the wall with a thoughtful expression on her octopuslike face. “I’m probably forgetting some too, but nothing’s coming to mind. There are things with floating objects, but those are more swimming challenges, not focusing on the objects themselves.”

“Pity,” I said as she finally ate the core of the onion, which was the size of a grape. “Ball games can be a lot of fun.”

“I believe you,” she said in the tone of someone not particularly motivated to do anything about it. Then she started eating the blue onion skins like potato chips.

“Have you ever tried one?” I pressed. “Even a simple thing like catch or keep-away?”

“I don’t know what either of those are, but I can guess.” She said, crunching away.

“What about…” I searched through my food options for an orange or a walnut or something. I found a tuna can. “Table hockey! Here, set the trays on the bench; I just want to show you real quick.”

I didn’t really expect her to agree, but she shoved the last of the crunchy things in her mouth and moved the remainder of her lunch. This table wasn’t very wide, hardly a proper playing field, but that would make it easier for a rookie. I set my tray on the bench seat next to me and explained the rules. “We just whack it towards each other and try not to let it fall off our side of the table. If you get it off my side, you get a point. Got it?”

“And the other sides are no one’s point, right?”

“Right. If we want to make it harder, we can say you lose a point for hitting it off there, but no need.”

“All right.” She splayed an unfair number of tentacles across her side of the table. “Let’s do it.”

I shoved the can at a reasonable speed, only to have her thwap it back at me hard enough to hurt when I caught it. I laughed. “Oh, it’s going to be like that, is it?”

Wio smiled with her weird little alien mouth. “Was that meant to be difficult?”

“Oh, it is on.”

Thus began a riotous game of table tuna, which ended up making such a ruckus of laughter and whacks against the cabinets that Eggskin came in from the kitchen to see what was going on.

Wio waved three tentacles at them. “We’re playing an Earth sport!”

“I see,” they said, turning their scaly head in a clear inspection for damage to the cabinets. “I trust you’ll be eating the contents of that can, now that you’ve thoroughly dented it.”

“Sure, sure,” I said, turning the can over. “Oh, this is starting to leak, isn’t it?”

“And I trust you’ll be cleaning up your own mess?”

“Yep. Sorry.”

“I’ll leave you to it, then.” Eggskin swept away with all the dignity of an elder who’d caught the kids getting into trouble. I had no idea how old they were, but they definitely had grandparent vibes sometimes.

Luckily the can had only dripped a little, and was easy to wipe up. Wio and I were soon back with lunches in front of us. I was looking for crackers to put the tuna on when Wio spoke up.

“You should try a Strongarm game now.”

I looked up. “I suppose that’s fair. Do you have one in mind?”

She held up a white jar with multiple seams and no obvious lid. “A classic puzzle is opening something without looking. Like this youth-proof seal.”

“Okay,” I said, holding out a hand for it. “I’ll give it a shot.”

Instead of handing it to me, she grinned wider. “You can’t just sit there, of course. You should lie down on your back. And open it under the bench behind you.”

“Whaaat,” I said. “You are making that up.”

She was outright giggling now. “This is literally a child’s game to see if they’re old enough to open containers on their own.”

“Fine.” I got as comfortable as I could on the hard bench, and she handed me the jar. I held it under the bench, and immediately regretted my choices. “Ow. This game was designed for someone who has tentacles instead of shoulder joints.”

Wio’s voice oozed amusement. “Surely you can handle a child’s puzzle? Come on, I’ll open this one at the same time. See if you can beat me.”

I grunted, twisting at yet another part that didn’t twist. Today’s lunchtime had turned out so educational. “I guarantee you I cannot.”

~~~

Inspired by this post, and also partly by the octopus skill at opening jars.

Ongoing backstory for the main character of this book. More to come!