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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Maxton1811 on 2024-12-25 22:06:00+00:00.


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August 26, 2025

Harsh waves of unfamiliar sound bounced violently off the walls of our transport as Will dutifully kept it speeding down the otherwise empty road. “This is our most popular song,” began Lucas, pointing toward the van’s dashboard at a built-in black box that they had used to conjure forth these noises. “It’s called ‘Redshift’. Like it?”

“It’s… Very energetic…” I replied, unsure of how else to describe this bizarre cacophony accompanied on occasion the voice of Lucas himself. “How do you make those noises?”

“Which ones?” Asked Olli, appearing somewhat puzzled by my inquiry. Up front, Will reached for a small knob on the dashboard and twisted it to incrementally decrease the music’s volume until it no longer ripped quite so aggressively against my ‘skin’.

Paying close attention to the unfamiliar sounds and isolating their individual rhythms, I carefully searched my mind for the correct descriptors. “I can tell you’re hitting something to make that thumping noise, but how do you get that weird screech?”

“What, you’ve never heard someone playing a guitar before?” Asked Jack, his eyes going wide with newfound incredulity. “What kind of rock have you been living under all your life?”

Confusion twisted my falsified human features as I contemplated what to even say in response to such a bizarre question. Fortunately, Lucas seemed to take note of my discomfort, promptly speaking up on my behalf. “Don’t be an asshole, Jack!” He grinned to his compatriot, the term clearly intended as an insult but nevertheless spoken in this case with a certain friendly endearment. “I feel like it should be pretty obvious at this point where Sam comes from.”

“You think it’s obvious?” I asked, attempting to conceal panic that saturated my cells in response to this revelation. If a single human could see through my disguise so easily, then I clearly had no chance of blending into civilization at large. For a moment, I contemplated cutting my losses and taking off—after all, I had no idea what these humans would do now that at least one of them knew my true nature.

“Your parents are Amish, aren’t they?” Lucas continued, immediately replacing my fear with utter confusion. I had no idea what ‘Amish’ was, but I was pretty sure it didn’t pertain to my actual mode of being. “You don’t have to be embarrassed—there’s nothing wrong with it!”

With my cover still very much intact, I decided that perhaps my best option was to simply accept whatever explanations they came up with. “Uhh… How did you know?”

“No offense, man, but it’s pretty obvious!” Grinned Lucas, draping his arm around my shoulders as he explained. “I mean, c’mon: the religious name, the aversion to music, not knowing what a guitar is—it all makes perfect sense.”

Apparently, Jack found this to be a satisfying explanation, almost immediately doing away with his prior incredulity. “Sorry, man…” He began, his lips curling upward into a strained grin. “I didn’t mean to disparage that kinda lifestyle, I just couldn’t connect the dots. No offense to your family, of course!”

“None taken,” I replied, deciding it best to steer the conversation away from my origins before I said something that could clear the misunderstanding. “Honestly, I’d prefer not to discuss it if that’s okay with you all…”

“Falling out with the folks?” Asked Olli from his seat beside the driver, looking back upon me with an expression of sympathy. “You don’t gotta answer that if it’s not something you’re comfortable with.”

“I suppose one could say that…” I affirmed, thinking back despite myself to when I first came hurtling down onto this planet’s surface. I wasn’t even sure if I had ‘folks’ the same way these humans did, but whatever gave rise to me clearly wasn’t all that interested in keeping me around. 

Reaching across from his seat, Olli haphazardly sifted through the pile of bags belonging mostly to the band. For the briefest moment, I recoiled as his hand came into contact with my biomass ‘bag’ before immediately moving on to grab the one next to it. Cocking my head quizzically, I eyed the oddly-shaped case, taking note of its bulky body and long, slender protrusion reminiscent of a neck. “You wanted to know how the sound was made, didn’t you?” Olli asked, popping open the case to reveal inside a perfectly-fitting device with strings running down its slender length from a selection of knobs at the top. “This is my guitar. When I plug it in and pluck the strings, it makes those noises.”

“Interesting…” I replied, tentatively reaching forth and gently running my finger along the instrument’s length, drawing forth from it a light thrumming sound. “So you use this one and Lucas uses his voice. What about Jack and Will?”

“I do drums,” answered Jack, clasping his hands into fists and mimicking the motion of hitting something with them. “That banging noise is all me! Will’s on bass—sorta like the guitar, but shaped differently.”

“And all the people like this?” I asked.

From the driver’s seat, Will let out a light chuckle. “Everyone’s got their own taste in music, but the people who like what we make pay us well.”

“Pay?” Contemplating that word, it came up in my mind with associations of exchange and the trading of goods. Thanks to the bad ones I’d devoured, I understood human words, but putting them into context without any experience was difficult.

“Right: you guys are like, super communal, aren’t you?” Asked Olli, presumably once again in reference to these ‘Amish’. Were they a subspecies, perhaps? “Most people use money—coins and paper bills—to represent value and trade for what they need…”

All this was very fascinating, and as such I continued to inquire on how ‘currency’ operated. Such knowledge, I imagined, would be very useful for blending into human society. After a few minutes of inquiry followed graciously by answers from the group, Will began to peer quizzically at the van’s dashboard. “Looks like we’re low on gas,” he said—another absolutely baffling statement.

“How are we ‘low’ on gas?” I asked, inhaling to make sure there was nothing wrong with the air around us. “It’s everywhere on this planet, is it not?”

“He means ‘gasoline’,” replied Lucas matter-of-factly. “It’s the stuff that keeps our van moving. There should be a gas station about three miles from here where we can get more.”

Within a few minutes, we came upon a small building with lights inside and a line of mysterious nozzled devices lined up out front. Pulling up to this odd building and stopping the vehicle just beside one of the nozzles, Will stepped out from the driver’s side and began fiddling with some kind of control panel. “You guys can go inside: I’ll fill ‘er up,” he said, reaching into a fold formerly occupying his pocket before handing me a piece of green paper. “Grab me a soda and the rest is yours, Sam.”

Following the other three band members into this building, I glanced about in search of this ‘soda’ I was told to retrieve. “Sodas are near the back,” said Olli, taking note of my confusion as he pointed toward the far wall to where various roughly-cylindrical containers stood in rows upon a door-covered shelf.

Approaching this display and searching through these containers, I murmured the descriptions beneath my breath. “Raspberry energy drink… Cool blue sport drink… Orange-flavored soda!” Opening the door and reaching in to take hold of the container, I looked it over curiously. Turning the container and viewing its contents, I immediately recognized most of the chemical names. Much to my surprise and delight, this liquid was almost pure sugar! 

Placing Will’s drink under my shoulder and grabbing a few for myself, I consulted with the others on how best to spend the remainder of my currency. “Those drinks are a dollar-fifty each, so you’ve got about four dollars left,” said Lucas, reaching into his pocket and handing me another few coins. “This should cover whatever tax there is.”

As I said before, the counting system of these creatures was foreign to me. After experiencing it once, however, I was able to rather quickly get the general gist of how counting worked. Holding up four fingers to represent my remaining currency, I searched the surrounding area for anything that could be worth spending it on. Soon enough, my search came to a halt in front of a sign. ‘Hot dogs: 1$’. Above these words were tubes of what appeared to be flesh, each one nestled into some kind of edible holder.

Grabbing a single paper basket from beside the display and piling four of these ‘hot dogs’ onto it, I approached the front counter where the others awaited me and handed the stranger up front my bill and coins. “Are those all for you?” Asked Olli, pointing toward my hot dogs.

“I intend them to be,” I shrugged before turning toward him and generously holding out the basket. “Would you like one?”

“No thanks, man,” replied the guitarist. In all honesty, I was glad that he didn’t want one. Willing though I was to share my meal, that didn’t necessarily mean I wanted to. Carrying this bounty back out to the van, I carefully the food I intended to consume down onto my seat before approaching Will and …


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