Are We As Mayflies?

The hot Texas sun beat down on the two people sitting outside the root beer stand. Only one of them was a human. Bob the human looked to his right at the half wall next to his chair. There, lying on his belly, straddling the wall like a raccoon resting on a tree branch, glossy black pelt shining in the sun, prehensile tail hanging off the opposite side of the wall, was the other person. His six-fingered paw held an ice-cold root beer, which the waitress had thoughtfully poured into a bowl to accommodate this strange patron’s canine muzzle.

Stormlight Blackpelt looked down from his perch at the sidewalk, where two elderly humans, who looked about Bob’s age, were pushing a wheeled cart containing a human infant. Bob followed his friend’s gaze. “Looks like grandma and grandpa are giving mom and dad some time off.” Bob said, waving at the couple. They smiled back and continued walking.

Stormlight turned to Bob again, regarding his human friend’s bald crown and wrinkled face. He grabbed his tail and began running his claws along it as though brushing out a knot. Bob looked up and noticed the alien’s fidgeting. “Well go on and ask.” Said Bob. “You do that whenever you’re fixing to ask me an awkward question.”

«Does it bother you that we live so much longer?» Stormlight asked. «I’ve been reading a lot of human stories and myths: Fountains that make you young again, stones that grant immortality, things like that.»

“If I’m honest, maybe sometimes,” said Bob. “But Earth has trees that live for millennia and brainless jellyfish that can live pretty much forever. It’s not like humans were breaking longevity records until y’all came along. Besides, we already live twice as long as our closest animal relatives. I’d say that’s pretty nice. And what about you? Don’t the yinrih have legends about people living for five thousand years?”

«Of course. We fear our mortality but hope in the hereafter.»

“Don’t start getting preachy on me now.” Bob chided.

Bob thought for a moment, then asked, “Does it bother you that we don’t live nearly as long as you?”

«It’ll take at least a year for the High Hearthkeeper to pick the legates who will come after us, and then another two and a half centuries for them to get here. That’s a long time even for us, and several of your lifetimes. You aren’t getting any younger,» said Stormlight, tilting his muzzle up slightly to point at Bob’s balding scalp.

Bob reflected on his friend’s concern. Stormlight and his fellow missionaries were around one hundred fifty earth years old, that is if you didn’t count the centuries spent in metabolic suspension on the way to Earth. They were already older than every human alive, but still young as the yinrih reckoned it. Bob couldn’t even name a single relative of his that was born before the twentieth century. By the time the missionaries would lay eyes on their fellow yinrih, Bob would be just a name on a tombstone, forgotten even by his descendants.

After a few moments, bob said, “It hurts to say goodbye for the last time, and y’all are going to be saying a lot of last goodbyes as long as you hang around us humans. But think of it this way. You’re already a big hit with my grandkids. You can help them grow up, and again with their children, and their children’s children. You can tell them all about how their great great great grandpa Bob got to be the first human to shake hands with an alien. You and Iris and Tod and Sunshine and the others can be that one constant in their lives, the one thing they can count on to be there no matter what. They’ll have to say goodbye to me soon enough, and by and by their parents, too, but not you. Y’all can be the one thing they’ll never have to say goodbye to. And after you’ve said your last goodbye to me, you can pray for the repose of my soul, or speak my name among the living, or do whatever it is you critters do for as long as you feel like doing it, which will sure be longer than any human will remember me.

“Besides, I’m in good health. I’ve got at least twenty years left in me if my family history is anything to go by. That might not be very long for you, but it’s a while yet for me. Don’t go mourning me until I’m actually six feet under. It’s a wonderful day out… if a little hot.” Bob added as the sophont next to him noisily lapped up some soda from the bowl. “Let’s just enjoy the day.”

Bob looked up at his yinrih friend. Stormlight tilted his ears back, relaxed his jaw slightly, and let his tail hang loose again. «Thanks, Bob. Sometimes I worry so much about the future that I don’t appreciate the present.»