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This had to be a trap. There was no way in hell it wasn’t. This was like painting a tunnel onto a brick wall and waiting for some idiot to sprint into it at full speed.
Hi cutie!
As one of the ship’s valued independents,
we would like to invite you to the annual
Independents Day Festival!
Taking place in Bluebelle Park tomorrow!
There was no indication of who sent it, just a single plain white postcard printed with black ink. Even the font was fairly unremarkable. It was missing the flourish, the eye-wateringly saturation of most affini handouts. There wasn’t even a subtle hypnotic watermark tricking you into finishing reading once you started. I’d checked in the compiler.
There was no chance this was genuine though. That it was anything other than a trap for overzealous independents to get florted.
Unless…
What if it was a trap for overly suspicious independents? Was there an Affini watching me? Waiting to see if I would refuse to go purely due to suspicion? I could always claim it was just because I didn’t feel like going to a festival, that I didn’t want to spend time in such a noisy and boisterous place.
Then that could be used against me though, they could argue I was ‘isolating myself’ and refusing to make social links even though I had a flourishing friend group of four people I spoke to on a biweekly basis. I even made sure one of them was a floret so I couldn’t be domesticated out of being ‘afraid of florets’ or something.
No, it was settled. I had to go. It would likely be a veritable minefield of domestication hazards, but if I didn’t go it would almost certainly be a one way trip to Floretville.
Not that Floretville was unpleasant, of course. My one floret friend lives there, and all of the infrastructure seems designed to be as easy to navigate as possible while high.
I planned my outfit. Too bright and I’d catch the eye of an Affini - too dark and they’d assume it was a depression outfit or something. Too masc and they’d assume I was an egg. Too femme and I’d end up looking really uncomfortable all day and that would end up drawing interest.
So I settled in the end for a deep green pair of linen trousers, a wine-red short sleeved shirt (long sleeves and they might mistakenly assume I was covering up or something probably), and a pair of dark brown loafers. It was colourful but not overly so, and it wasn’t so dark that it’d look odd to wear at a festival. With my outfit planned, I took my nightly class-Z to help me deal with the capitalism night terrors and drifted off to a fitful dream of bizarre social traps and domestication centres.
The morning was uneventful - my usual breakfast of Class-E infused espresso, and a cereal with dried fruit sprinkled into it. It was plain, yes, but I was happy with plain.
Then I bathed, getting myself as spotless as I could in case some affini decided I wasn’t cleaning behind my ears well enough and collared me on the spot. Once I was out of the bath, I applied a soft cologne - some mostly neutral scent without too many flowery or fruity notes. If I ended up matching with an affini they’d no doubt scoop me up on the spot and declare that I was matching with them as a subtle signal for them to domesticate me after all.
Getting dressed, I put my glasses on (entirely blank prescription of course as my eyes were long since fixed by Affini medicine, but I had so many habits around them that I’d decided to just keep them for a small sense of comfort.)
Combing through my short brown hair I quickly checked the mirror and practised my smile. It wasn’t necessary - after all my therapist made it perfectly clear that no two sophonts expressed happiness the same way, but I happen to like the way my smile makes me look and it seemed to be just cute enough to appease the Affini without being too cute and drawing attention.
I took the tram, of course asking an affini for help up into one of the chairs and off once I reached my spot. When xey realise where I’m going xey coo and give me a pat on the head.
“Ohh, off to the Independents Day Festival? I hope you have a fun time cutie!”
I smile, give xer a happy and noncommittal remark about wanting to see what the fuss was about and disembark, getting my first look at the festival.
It was suspiciously normal looking for Affini festivals. Colourful tents, balloon arches, food stalls, all kinds of attractions. The only major difference was the complete lack of florets.
Kind of made sense though, I imagine they had far better things to do than hang around a honeypot scheme. Like getting high and amusing themselves with a medium length piece of string, or performing acts so abstractly lurid that it stretched the definition of sex.
I just shrugged to myself, approaching the stall at the entrance staffed by a tall affini in a vineform suit and tie.
“Good morning! I assume you’re here for the festival? Are you an Independent?” Their voice is soft, as all Affini voices tend to be. Even the affini who sounded like sentient chainsaws somehow managed to sound soft. I tried not to think about it too much.
“Yes, I got an invite in my mailbox, and I figured it sounded interesting. What uh… What’s the point of all this? I thought you Affini cared way more about florets than us independents?” I tried to keep my tone level, not looking around too much - it’s important not to look nervous around the affini as they tended to assume that was a sign of hidden feralism.
“Oh, not at all! Independents are a highly valued part of our society! After all, we want everyone to be happy - and if you independents can do it yourselves then that’s adorable to see. Besides, don’t you know that every floret was once an independent?” The affini chuckles, and reaches down to a box on their desk. “Now, for coming along I have a little present for you!” They pull out a little button mostly made in greyscale. Text that circles along the outer edge reads ‘I went to the independents day festival and all I got was this lousy button (and a life in a post-scarcity paradise where I could live out my dreams’ and in the middle is a small plain looking terran face in a greyscale party hat with an uneasy smile.
“We figured since you’d all think this was a trap, we’d make this for you to fit the mood.” They lean forward and pin it to my shirt, patting me on the head as I fluster and try to force out an excuse.
“Oh, uh… N-No I didn’t think that at all! I was just interested in what the attractions might be!”
The affini giggles, rolling her eyes. “Oh Petal, relax! We have a festival for florets practically every week - is one for independents really so shocking?”
“Well… Yes.” I mutter honestly.
“Hm, I suppose it is a little. Well, now you’re here! So go enjoy yourself, cutie - I recommend the ‘Independence Burger’. It’s a burger with no lettuce, tomatoes, onions, or plants of any kind on it.” She laughs at the joke, and I find myself laughing too - that was admittedly kinda funny.
Feeling a little less anxious, I wander into the festival grounds proper and look around at some of the games. One of them immediately made me panic, with a banner reading ‘escape domestication’ I watched in horror as an affini chased a sophont around a sizeable obstacle course, and when they caught the sophont I gasped, assuming I was going to be watching a collaring in real time. However the affini just scooped them up, plopped them at the exit and patted them on the head saying ‘better luck next time, petal.’
I begin to suspect someone had laced my morning coffee with a hallucinogen or something because it looked like it was a genuine, actual game. The prize for escaping through the exit uncaught was a ‘Lazy Sophont’ pass - a single use ticket to hand to a wellness checker to let you just kinda laze about your house for week with no repercussions.
As tempting as the reward is, I’m no athlete. So I just sauntered off to the next stall, standing at which was another affini under the banner ‘Egg Cracker’. I can’t help but laugh as I see it’s literally just a shark plushie and a pink dress placed underneath a cardboard box held up with a stick, the rope for which is resting in the affini’s hand.
I stroll up, still softly laughing at the absurdity of the situation as I ask “So uh… Catch anyone yet?”
The affini regards me with a smile, holds a vine up to their faux lips and loosens their vines to reveal a terran curled up around its core with a cat ear headband and long pink thigh high socks.
I let out a quiet ‘aww’ as they just look so peaceful! I’d never had a problem with florets really, it just wasn’t for me. Not to mention I’m not the biggest fan of sex and drugs so most florets and I didn’t have a lot to talk about. Still, I could never stay afraid of them. They always looked so happy.
Ambling on to the next attraction, I spot a food stall labelled with ‘Independent Slushies! Guaranteed Xenodrug free!’
I raise an eyebrow at the almost certainly false claim, but as I approach the affini at the stall he grins and begins putting together a cup of entirely plain looking ice.
“Howdy there fella, don’t suppose I could interest you in a cup? I’ve had no complaints yet!”
“Y’know what, sure. I may as well. I came all this way and nothing weird’s happened so far. Just a small though, I’m not the biggest slushie fan. I get brainfreezes way too easy.” I smile at the affini behind the stall, and he chuckles.
“Knowin’ your own limits - now that’s a mighty independent thing of you to do. I find it works best to eat it slowly with a spoon. My own little Floret loves the stuff, but she needs to take it slow or she gets the same.” He hands over the cup, and a small wooden spoon, and I take a scoop of what is probably going to be some bland and vanilla flavour to make the joke land, but when I swallow the mouthful of the icy confection I gasp at the explosion of fruity flavour.
“I-Is that lychee? I love lychee!”
“Haha, it is indeed! Good tongue you got there. I figured it fit the evening well. I’ve got a dozen flavours in here, all coloured in the same plain ice. See, I wanted to make a point about how some affini see Indies like yerself as bland and uninteresting, but that beyond superficial looks y’all’re just as special as the florets we cherish!” He beams with friendliness, and I find myself taken aback, looking up at the affini with a soft smile.
“Wow, you uh… You really mean that don’t you?”
“Of course! I’d never tell a lie about somethin’ like that..”
“Huh… That’s really sweet of you. Thanks.” I take another scoop of the delicious lychee slushie, and slowly wander off to consider the affini’s words.
Maybe I was wrong to assume this was a trap. Had the affini ever lied to me? Like, ever? Sure the wellness checks were annoying - but they always genuinely wanted to help. They only ever happened if I spent too long cooped up inside, or cut myself off from my friends.
Maybe I was mistaken to be so on edge about all this?
I saunter on to the next stall, and I find myself immediately bursting into laughter at the sight.
It’s a classic fairground ride, one of those tall towers that raises you up and drops you down. All safely managed with harnesses and safety equipment. What made me laugh though was the giant banner above the entrance to the line that read ‘The Infamous FLORET WIGGLER!’
A stall near the exit was handing out t-shirts and buttons that read ‘I survived the floret wiggler’, and the independents that got on staggered off giggling from the adrenaline rush.
I was tempted to ride it myself, if I weren’t still enjoying my slushie. Onward, then, to the next attraction.
This one was far more low key, a series of whack-a-mole machines with ‘Bonk-a-ffini’ printed on the titling. It looked like the rewards being given out here were ‘Number One Terran Hero’ badges and ‘Holder of the Indomitable Terran Spirit’
I looked around, a smile plastered on my face as it struck me just how genuine this whole event was. It was the Affini leaning in and winking as they admitted ‘We get it, petal’.
Not a single overzealous affini snatching up a screaming independent in sight. No sneaky xenodrugs hidden in food items leaving independents placid enough to be scooped up and absconded with.
Just a fun event set up to let off some of the anxious energy of life in the Compact.
I slowly walk through the festival ground, taking in the sights and finding myself with a soft warmth in my core. Maybe the affini weren’t so scary after all. Sure they had their moments, but I’d never met an unhappy floret. Hell, I’d even met florets that were allowed to do all sorts of wild shit I’d never consider even in my wildest dreams. Basejumping, cliffdiving, speeding through asteroid belts in super-custom hot rod ships tuned to perfection. It wasn’t all drugs and hugs.
I finally took a seat down at one of the benches in the center of the attraction, just relaxing and watching the sophonts mill about from place to place.
An affini gently sits down beside me at the far end of the bench, leaving a polite distance between us.
“Enjoying the event, petal?” She asks, looking over at me with a smile.
“Yeah, actually. I really think I am. I figured this was some awful trap to catch us off guard and scoop us up to be turned into florets, but this really is just a fun little festival huh?” I look over at her, and she nods.
“Of course! We might adore our florets more than anything in the world, but we adore all life too. You deserve a celebration of yourselves just as much as the rest of our society.” She leans back, her vines resting on her lap. “Have you seen the gift shop? They have a ‘terran super knife’ branded butter knife on the shelves that made me giggle.”
I smirk, rolling my eyes. “Why do I get the feeling there’s a t-shirt with ‘we never stood a chance’ printed on it?”
“Oh, probably because there absolutely is.” She chuckles, and I take another scoop of my Lychee slushie.
“I’m Jack by the way, Jack Terra. You would not believe how many affini ask me if my brother’s called ‘John’.”
“Oh, I’m Daisy Perennis, First Bloom. She/Her. It’s nice to meet you Jack.” The affini sitting beside me idly watches the independents passing by, a relaxed look of curiosity on her face.
“Thanks for not asking too, though just in case you’re wondering, she goes by ‘Joan’ these days.” I grin, taking another scoop of slushie. “My dad changed our family name to be more ‘patriotic’ when we were kids, I just never felt like changing it. Makes for a fun icebreaker.”
“Hmm, I bet it does - not to mention being a good sport about the jokes probably gets you points with the independence board huh?” She teases me with an elbow, and I shrug.
“It’s helpful, I won’t lie. So, what’re you doing here? Running a stall or anything? Sneakily scoping out a future floret?” I raise an eyebrow, and Daisy laughs as she shakes her head.
“Oh no no, nothing like that. I just love how this festival lets you indies relax. You all tend to end up leaving here so much more assured of the Compact’s promise, and it’s corewarming to see. Besides, I have no interest in scooping up a floret of my own unless someone asks.” She looks out over the crowd, and then back over to me. “Say Jack, want to try out some of the games? I spotted a really fun quiz show booth that pits Affini against Independents, all about each other’s cultures. Apparently if the terran wins they get a ‘get out of collar free card’.” She giggles, and I finish up my slushie with a smile.
“I’d love that, actually.”