Chapter 1: The Amorous Arachnid
The air in the habitat was always the same: thick, damp, and tasting faintly of ozone and loam. Auren found the consistency boring, which was why he had to make his own fun.
From his vantage point amidst a cluster of broad, waxy leaves, his multiple eyes—a blurred constellation of faint purple against black—tracked the two shapes moving across the cleared observation platform. The taller one, Vance, was a stiffer silhouette, all sharp angles and clipped movements. The shorter one, Chen, fidgeted. Auren’s main eyes couldn’t make out their faces, but his other senses filled in the blanks. Vance’s perfume was a clinical, alcohol-sharp thing that fought the humid air.Chen smelled of soap and the faint, sweet tang of nervous sweat.
A plan, simple and delightful, formed in his mind. He let out a low, gurgling chitter, the sound vibrating through his chest and up into his human throat. It was a noise they’d catalogued as “non-specific ambulatory vocalization.” He loved their labels.
He shifted his considerable bulk, the soft thup of his padded legs on the mossy floor deliberately clumsy. He moved towards the edge of the platform, where the maintenance crew had left a cleaning cart unattended.His target: a long-handled push broom, its yellow bristles splayed on the floor.
Dr.Helen Vance adjusted her glasses, her tablet held like a shield. “Subject is exhibiting baseline foraging behavior near the eastern service entry,” she dictated, her voice flat.Dr. Marcus Chen scribbled a note on his own device. “Um, seems a bit more… focused than usual, Helen.”
Auren reached the broom.He paused, letting his front spider legs tremble slightly. Then, with a deep, resonant hum that seemed to come from his entire abdomen, he lowered his human torso. He brought his primary set of arms down, the dull claws tracing the wooden handle of the broom with exaggerated gentleness.“What is it doing?” Vance muttered, leaning forward.
Auren answered with a series of quick, staccato clicks from his mandibles, flanking his human mouth. He wrapped more legs around the broom handle, pulling it closer. Then, with a theatrical shudder that ran from his human shoulders down the dense fur of his spider back, he began to slowly, rhythmically, grind the base of his cephalothorax against the bristled head of the broom.
The humming intensified into a satisfied purr.
Chen’s tablet beeped as it slipped from his fingers and clattered on the platform floor. “Oh my god.”
Vance’s lips disappeared into a thin, bloodless line. “Cease!” she barked, the command slicing through the habitat’s ambient drip and hum. “Subject Auren, cease that behavior immediately!”
Auren ignored her, increasing his tempo.The broom rocked unsteadily. He let a long strand of silvery drool fall from his human lips onto the yellow bristles.
“Marcus, note the aberrant pseudosexual object fixation,” Vance said, her voice tight with disgust.“Contamination of data stream due to improper stimulus. I will be filing a report with maintenance.”
“Aberrant… pseudosexual… got it,” Chen mumbled, fumbling for his tablet, his face flushed a deep red. He couldn’t look away.This was even better than Auren had hoped. The heat of Vance’s outrage, the radiant embarrassment from Chen—it was a feast. But the main course was yet to be served.With a final, convulsive shudder, he stilled. He released the broom, letting it clatter to the ground with a dismissive flick of a leg.He turned. His blurry gaze swept past the sputtering Dr. Vance and settled on the glowing, warm blur that was Dr.Chen. He took two slow, deliberate steps forward, the great soft thuds of his legs making the platform grates tremble.
Chen took a step back, then froze, professional duty battling primal alarm.
Auren loomed over him, a three-meter-tall silhouette of fur and chitin.He dipped his head, his messy white hair falling forward. He brought one of his front legs up, not the clawed arm, but the softer, sensory-rich spider limb. With a touch as delicate as a breath, he stroked the tip of the leg down the side of Chen’s face, from temple to jawline.Chen stopped breathing.His skin was warm, damp with sweat.
A low, cooing chitter escaped Auren’s throat, a sound worlds away from the grating noise he’d made for the broom.It was softer, inquisitive. He followed the caress by gently nudging a small, pre-woven disk of glittering silk into Chen’s limp hand. It was a perfect circle, strong yet lightweight, a trinket he’d made earlier that day for just this purpose.
“It… it’s giving me a gift,” Chen whispered, his voice cracking.
“It is exhibiting misplaced courtship behavior,” Vance corrected sharply, though her own composure was fraying.“Do not anthropomorphize, Marcus. It’s confused. The broom, now you… it’s operating on instinct.”
Auren’s ear-to-ear mouth curved into a smile only he could feel. He leaned in closer, his multiple eyes glinting in the habitat’s simulated moonlight. He could smell Chen’s soap, his fear, his fascination.He could hear Vance’s quick, shallow breaths. He chittered again, a question.
Then, in a voice barely audible, a rough whisper that had never been used in their presence, woven from disuse and secret practice, Auren spoke.
“Not confused.”
The words hung in the humid air. Chen’s eyes widened, his pupils dilating in pure, unprofessional shock.Vance’s tablet hit the floor with a definitive crack.
Auren tilted his head, his long floppy ears twitching. He watched the beautiful, blurry shapes of their worldviews shatter. He soaked in the glorious, silent void of their disbelief before it could erupt into questions, into alarms, into chaos.
He took a slow, deliberate step backwards, retreating into the dappled shadows of his fake rainforest.Let them process that. The game, after all, had just become infinitely more interesting.