Mandy and the Tentacle Monster (Urf Oomons #1)
Mandy and the Tentacle Monster: Epilogue 1

I have perfected the art of camouflage. Instead of just allowing my epidermis to reflect my mood, I can now force it to take on the visual characteristics of my environment. I am hiding in plain sight. Many sea creatures still sense my presence and avoid me, but any human peering down through the watery depths will see rocks, sand, and plants, never noticing my alien shape.

I could leave this cove and venture into the dark, unknown depths of an earth ocean, and avoid detection that way, but there are ferocious predators out there. Sharp-toothed, bloodthirsty carnivorous creatures swimming in wide circles, tracking their next meals. I have seen them with my own eyes. Thankfully I avoided detection and made my way to the relative safety of this cove. Here, I am the most dangerous creature lurking in the waters. There had been a rather large lizard with a long mouth over-full of sharp teeth prowling along the shore, but they only made the one appearance and I have not seen it since.

Obviously Tiny did not share everything there is to know about Earth ecosystems. How could she? There is a diversity of life here, unlike anything I have seen in all my travels. Every day I see some new creature. And there are humans everywhere. While my current location is very quiet and secluded, when I venture out along the shore, there are boats, swimmers, and flying conveyances everywhere. There are lights from overpopulated human cities shining all night. Ground vehicles speeding along in unending lines. It may be that I have landed in an over-populated area, but I have a hunch that the human population is a swarm crowded over this whole planet. The pollutants I have encountered in their vast ocean give hints of a human population out of control. It is a strange problem to have, overpopulation when the rest of the known universe struggles to reproduce.

It is a personal triumph that I have managed to evade detection, not just from bumbling crowds of humans, but also more sophisticated Seereechees. It has been weeks since I have seen one of their small drone-ships flying overhead at night. They are probably tracking a signal from my implant, but unable to establish a visual confirmation. And the only human to be concerned with here in this secluded cove is predictable and oblivious.

Every morning she glides about in her tiny human boat (she calls it a kayak. It is a small, personal human conveyance, propelled by a single paddle that she dips into the water with her tiny human arms). There is a furry little beast of a companion with her, that prances about on top of the boat. That annoying little creature will see me if I make the slightest move and commence sounding the most alarming vocalizations at me. “Ar-wor-wor-wor-wor-wor-wor!” That is the noise he makes. It is grating.

But the human is entrancing. Adorable, in that human way, with delicate features, blunted claws, and a long, shiny, dark mane. She looks very similar to tiny in her size and coloring. But where Tiny had the busy, bubbly creative energy about her, always talking, singing, and dancing while she painted her murals all over the homeship, this human  has a quiet, calm energy. Just being in her presence is soothing. I am always sure to be in this area at this early hour in the morning so I can observe her “kayaking.” She has sound devices propped in her ear-holes and I can hear the music she enjoys. It is calm, beautiful sounds, not the incessant thumping noise I have heard from human land conveyances.

Her only goal when she ventures out every morning in her kayak seems to be observing this planet’s star as it appears over the horizon, listening to soothing music, and occasionally using her small handheld device to record images of sea animals.

It is relaxing to observe her. I feel close to her, though I know that is nonsense. She is not even aware of my existence and if she was made aware she would surely react with alarm and horror. She would probably startle and flip her tiny kayak right over, possibly aspirating in this water. Humans cannot breathe water and they cannot hold their breath for any length of time. With no emergency medical assistance available, I could conceivably scare her to death.

I remind myself of this every time I am tempted to reveal myself to her. But my treacherous mind pays no heed, recalling how Tiny would allow Seven so near to her. She allowed him to comb her mane, care for her, and even feed her from his claw. She seemed to enjoy his company and revel in his care. Is it truly outside the realm of possibility that this lovely, kayaking human might welcome my company?

Then I force myself to recall when Tiny first laid eyes on me in our med-bay so long ago. I relive that moment when she stared at me with abject horror as if I was a creature from her worst nightmares. Then she abruptly passed out, unconscious with fear.

Do I want to experience that again, here with this adorable human?

No. I would never want to scare her or harm her, even unintentionally.

So I will remain concealed and wait to observe her every morning. There is nothing else for me to do, as I am stranded with no way to contact anyone. All I do here is hunt fresh food and observe my human.

I have never felt such contentment.

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