They were a person. No one really questioned that fact. Not many people, anyway. No one who saw them in passing questioned that fact. They had all the correct number of appendages and all in the right places. Their hues were all well within expected color ranges, and also all in the right places. Some previous attempt may have resulted in eyes that were the color of skin and skin that were the color of eyes, but that was all in the past.

This person was clearly a person.

So why didn’t the person have more person-to-person interactions? They did what most other people did. It thought about this as it lied in a bed for the requisite eight hours during the night. The bed was in an apartment that the person had a legally binding contract to inhabit. The bed had the correct layers and varieties of fabric and cushions. There was even a solitary representation of a bear, also made from fabric, on the bed that the person held with one of the upper, tool appendages.

The device made to notify the person when it was time to end the ritual of lying in bed began emitting the discordant tones. They got out of bed, replacing all the layers into their proper place. It completed the cleansing rituals, followed by placing the normal layers of fabric over itself, making sure they were all in the right order.

Food was consumed, using the bowl and spoon and cup precisely as it had seen other people do. Some foods needed to be solid before eating. Other foods needed to begin as solids, but then have liquids added to them before eating. Other foods were liquids. There was some flexibility in all of that, but the person avoided trying too many variations on what was normal.

Eating only took a few minutes and then it was time to leave their apartment and, using their lower, locomotion appendages, would walk to the bus stop. Other people often waited for the bus. Waiting for a bus is perfectly normal. This person can’t help but notice how fewer and fewer people have been waiting for this bus ever since it first began to ride it. There have been fewer people waiting for this bus on all of its stops since this person started riding it. This morning there was only one other person at the bus stop and when the bus arrived there were only three other people on board. No one else got on after the person got on.

Was that normal behavior for the other people? Had their schedules all changed so much in such a short amount of time?

The person wasn’t sure.

“There are fewer and fewer of us people on the bus,” the person remarked after placing itself beside one of the other people on the bus.

The other person didn’t say anything back, but did shift away by a few inches.

The person knew this meant that the other person did not want to communicate with them.

“I am sorry,” they said, “I did not…

The other person stared at them with a confusing mixture of expressions. It was then that the person remembered that it was supposed to move the lowest orifice on the topmost, sensory appendage when it spoke. It had been moving it’s highest orifices instead to produce the sounds of speech.

“Oops,” it said, correcting its mistake, “that must have looked strange and I am sorry. I am sure we all get confused like that sometimes. Who can really keep track of all these…” it hesitated, searching for the right word. It had learned recently that orifice, while accurate, was not generally a word used by people. Unable to find the right word, it instead gestured to the orifices on its tool appendage.

“But it is strange that there are so few of us on the bus these days, yes?” the person asked the other passenger.

“Yeah, weird,” the other passenger finally replied before getting up and moving the other end of the bus in a clear display of avoidance.

As much as the person didn’t want to admit it, the evidence pointed to themselves as being the reason for the decrease in passengers. The person, regardless of their obvious person-ness, was somehow causing this change in behavior. It wasn’t just on the bus where the person had noticed this shift, either. The place where they performed their tasks in exchange for value tokens was similarly becoming less populated.

As they left the bus and walked, again remembering to only use their locomotion appendages, to where they would perform their daily tasks, the person wondered how it could improve the perception of the other people regarding itself. Unfortunately, before it could reach its assigned location, the ruler of the tasks confronted them.

“Hey, uh, listen,” the ruler said, their visual sensors roving around to look at so many other things beside the person, “you can’t work here anymore. Sorry it didn’t work out. Go ahead and clear out your desk. I’ll have your last paycheck ready for you with HR.”

The person stood there, surprised and a little confused. It took it a moment to fully decipher what the ruler had said to it, but once it understood that it could no longer perform tasks for value tokens, it knew it was missing something.

“I have completed every task given to me,” it stated.

“Uh, yeah,” the ruler admitted.

“Did I complete them incorrectly?”

“Not exactly.”

“If I have not done the tasks wrong, then was I completing an insufficient amount of tasks? Should I have been completing more tasks? If so I did not know. I looked for and completed every task that I could.”

“Listen, I’m sorry but it’s just not working out. I’m sure you’ll find another job. I’ll even write you a recommendation.”

“I have only been subjected to your rule for one of your lunar cycles,” the person went on, trying and failing still to understand why this kept happening.

“Could you please not say it that way,” the ruler rubbed its visual sensors with one of its tool appendages as though in pain.

“Every other ruler I have completed tasks for has similarly turned me away,” they complained. “Only one has ever given a reason, but even that reason was not satisfactory.”

The ruler stopped rubbing their visual sensors and finally looked at the person.

“What reason was that?” he asked.

“I was told my behavior was not suitable for the tasks and that my behavior also prevented others from completing their tasks.”

“Well, I’d say that’s also why we’re letting you go.”

“You’re letting me go complete more tasks?” the person asked, excited.

“What? No, you’re being let go. It means you can’t…complete more tasks here.” he added.

The person stood there, frustrated, confused, and more than a little bit upset.

“I have done everything correctly,” they said, more to themselves than to the ruler. “I have used my appendages correctly, I used my sensory orifices in the right way almost all of the time, I even have the fabric bear added to my bed. I am a most normal person!”

“You’re a weirdo is what you are,” the ruler said, their sensory appendage swiveling back and forth in a motion the person had come to learn meant ‘no’.

“I am a what?” the person asked.

“Hey, I shouldn’t have said that, I’m sorry, it just slipped out.”

“No, please explain. I want to know so that I may improve.”

“Well, first off, it’s the way you talk.”

“I move my lower orifice to –

“You open and close your mouth like someones pet goldfish!” the ruler burst out suddenly, though not aggressively. If the person had to guess they would assume that the ruler had been wanting to say this for some time and only now was letting the words come out. It must have been a relief to the ruler to say these words because they kept on talking. “I can’t figure out how you talk, but it’s like some party trick. It’s cool, I guess, at first, but you gotta let it go, you know? Just talk normally. Then there’s the way you phrase things. I mean, you talk about orifices so often I get about half a dozen emails every day from people who think you’re being lewd. Can’t you just say eyes, nose, mouth, or whatever?”

“I keep forgetting that they have specific but non-descriptive names,” the person admitted. “I can learn and remember them.”

“Maybe ask for an interpreter or some language assistance at your next job,” the ruler suggested. “Take some English classes, maybe?”

“I will not have enough value tokens for any of that,” the person said.

“It’s called money,” the ruler said, beginning yet another outpouring or words he’d been wanting to say. “And it’s a job, or work, not tasks. I’m your boss, or manager, not ruler. We have arms and legs not locomotion appendages or tool appendages. I mean, did you learn English from a medical text book?”

“I cannot tell you how I learned English,” the person, suddenly very nervous, said.

Unfortunately, the change in behavior only made the ruler, or boss, more intrigued.

“Look, maybe I’ve been too harsh on you, I can only imagine how hard it must be coming here and having to learn a new language, but seriously, how’d you learn English?”

“I got in trouble the last time I explained that to someone.”

“Really? Why. Did you steal a book or some old set of CD’s for an English course?”

“No, I told them that I ate brains,” the person said, not meaning to answer the boss’s question but answering all the same. “Not their whole brain,” it hurried to explain, “only the portions governing language. It is, obviously and unfortunately an imperfect method.”

The boss stared at the person, mouth agape for some time before finally letting out an uncomfortable chuckle.

“Well maybe you ate the wrong brain,” he finally said. “Anyway, best of luck. Hope you find a job that fits you better.”

With that, he went back to the room where he did most of his tasks, leaving the person alone to go and empty out their desk. In truth there wasn’t anything to empty out. There were only a few scribing tools that the person had no need for now.

“Perhaps the error was not in the method, but in the brain after all,” they said to themself. It hadn’t occurred to it before that that could be the case. “And the ruler here, the manager, clearly has a distinct grasp on the language.”

It may have lost yet another ‘job’ but perhaps today wasn’t without its benefits.

The person let themselves into the manager’s room without being noticed.

“Let us test your theory,” the person said quietly, closing the door behind themself.