[open]
The ridiculous part in finally being free from the psychotic program that ran and maintained the mazes Esplin had been running through with this soft human body for who knew how long was the fact he couldn't stop moving once he was out of them. Semi-familiar noises caught by these less than optimal ears would have him spinning around, looking for the origin. He was tense, taking stock of side-areas and nooks to shoot into or duck within, depending on what ludicrous thing was after him now.
Restless, plantsuit clad feet eventually found the long walkway that led into Hydroponics, pausing at the start. It was a lot of straight, inescapable space to wander, and he had no illusions over what this body could do. Other than fall, roll, and stand up again. Repeated far too often for his personal tastes, as he learned his mindless, human body was less well balanced (if more even gaited) than the Gedd through which he'd first discovered what it meant to see.
He still considered Hydroponics a gigantic waste of space, nothing like the memories he'd borrowed of what his homeworld was like, harsh and grating and the height of survival of what moves fastest and moves first. Anything Aldrea might feel, instinctual, was a curious memory to turn over and examine. Andalites prized their concepts of carrying some home with them where-ever they went. That he could identify, in the loosest sense appreciate, what that meant left him with the beginning of a sneer on his face. Or perhaps he was suffering from indigestion. None of his expressions read correctly on a human face. Gedds, Hork-Bajir, and Andalites all lacked the complete, soft, helpless moldability of the human form.
Disgusting.
"Hydroponics." Tasting the sounds, talking out loud to himself in the way he'd started to when running mazes, getting used to the feeling of this form of vocalization. It was far less effort than enunciating with the Hork-Bajir's hard mouth and reluctant tongue. "I want the Media Library."
Restless, plantsuit clad feet eventually found the long walkway that led into Hydroponics, pausing at the start. It was a lot of straight, inescapable space to wander, and he had no illusions over what this body could do. Other than fall, roll, and stand up again. Repeated far too often for his personal tastes, as he learned his mindless, human body was less well balanced (if more even gaited) than the Gedd through which he'd first discovered what it meant to see.
He still considered Hydroponics a gigantic waste of space, nothing like the memories he'd borrowed of what his homeworld was like, harsh and grating and the height of survival of what moves fastest and moves first. Anything Aldrea might feel, instinctual, was a curious memory to turn over and examine. Andalites prized their concepts of carrying some home with them where-ever they went. That he could identify, in the loosest sense appreciate, what that meant left him with the beginning of a sneer on his face. Or perhaps he was suffering from indigestion. None of his expressions read correctly on a human face. Gedds, Hork-Bajir, and Andalites all lacked the complete, soft, helpless moldability of the human form.
Disgusting.
"Hydroponics." Tasting the sounds, talking out loud to himself in the way he'd started to when running mazes, getting used to the feeling of this form of vocalization. It was far less effort than enunciating with the Hork-Bajir's hard mouth and reluctant tongue. "I want the Media Library."