Today was the fifth day of training. Two more days, and
we’ll be sent out into space. I feel like I just got over my disorientation
from the ride over here. On the other hand, I am beginning to miss gravity, and
I can’t wait to take these magnetic boots off once and for all!
Our focus today was on octopus training, which took all day with no breaks. Our instructor was a thick-nosed Gadhavi, who worked for a marine salvage operation that uses trained Giant Octopuses, rather than humans in wet suits or submarines, to recover bits of flooded cities. We’ll be using Giant Octopuses as well, so Breathe Easy sent this trainer, Zahid, to teach us. I think he just arrived yesterday, because he still seemed unsure how to walk in the magnetic shoes.
There was a giant tank in the training room, taking up most of the space that we had been using to sit. We crowded against the back wall instead, while a huge, bumpy octopus, the color of ancient wet brick, waved a tentacle against the glass of its tank. Its suckers opened and closed in a mesmerizing pattern.
Zahid’s magnetic boots clanged against the floor as he walked over to the tank, and the octopus twitched another arm toward him.
“This is Olive, our third and currently oldest octopus working for us,” Zahid said, after he steadied himself against the thick clear plastic. “She has been with our fleet for nearly ten years, and we’re retiring her soon.” He looked almost wistful as he began to open a tiny lid of the tank, and one of Olive’s arms reached out to him. He pulled a fleshy piece of I’m not sure what out of his pocket and the tentacle took it out of his fingers, pulled it down and the food disappeared into the octopus’s folds.
“She’s a great demonstrator for you, since she already knows training steps, and I won’t have to reinforce her too much,” Zahid continued. “Reinforcing, by the way, is basically rewarding good behavior with food. There’s no perfect way to punish an octopus that won’t make him or her retreat, so we focus on positive reinforcement instead.”
He pulled another fleshy chunk from his pocket and handed it to Olive. She ate the food item faster this time, and moved the blob of her body closer to his edge of the tank. Another tentacle moved to the top of the tank and stayed there. Zahid stroked it like most people pet cats, and the tip of the tentacle curled around his wrist with each stroke.
“To train an octopus to move objects for you can be difficult,” he said, gazing deep into Olive’s milky eyes. “However, they are highly intelligent creatures, so the key to training with food is to respect them as creatures with many of the same needs and wants as you and I.”
Natsuki, Vivien, and Ihsan all nodded, and Durada scratched her neck. Samira’s eyes were practically bulging from her skull, and I swear she subtly leaned away from the tank.
Zahid pulled a container from a large cargo pocket in his suit, and handed it to Olive. She immediately pulled it down and, as best I can describe it, sat on it. She folded her body around the jar, skin pulsing.
“She’s figuring out how to open the jar,” Zahid said, finally looking at us. “Octopuses are great at solving puzzles, so it will only take her a minute to figure out how to take the lid off.”
Sure enough, the jar moved forward into Olive’s tentacles, and after suction cups attached along the lid, she pulled, and the lid popped off. Another squishy bit of fleshy substance sat at the bottom of the jar, and she practically crawled into the small space to inhale the food.
“Because octopuses have no bones, they are able to fit into very tight spaces,” Zahid cooed, more to Olive than to us. “That makes them great for salvage operations, and also very easy to transport or protect when, for example, a typhoon comes through and we need to pull our equipment out of the water.”
Zahid stomped over to a box near the door and pulled out a black cylinder, returned to the tank, and dropped it in. Moon Base’s miniscule gravity kept it from settling to the bottom immediately, and Olive grabbed the object and sat on it, feeling the object out. When she realized there was nothing to open on the cylinder, she moved it through her tentacles, waving the object back and forth in front of her eyes and pinching it with her suckers. Slowly, the object began making its way back to the top of the tank, and when it was within Zahid’s vicinity, he tossed another piece of food into the tank. Olive grabbed it with an arm and inhaled it, forgetting about the cylinder and letting the tentacle settle. When she did not immediately receive another piece of food, she moved the arm with the cylinder back toward the surface, and Zahid rewarded the motion with food. Finally, after a little back and forth, the tentacle came out of the water and Zahid took the cylinder, tossing a final piece of food into the tank.
“She figured out that I wanted the cylinder because I rewarded her motions in the right direction,” he said as he wiped the cylinder on his suit. “I’m going to put this back in the tank now, and she will be much more familiar with the object and what to do about it.”
He placed the cylinder back into the tank, and Olive grabbed it. Immediately the arm holding the object shot back out of the water, sprinkling the air with droplets from the tank. Zahid tossed some food to her. “See?” he said. If Olive had been a dog, I have no doubt Zahid would have trilled praises to her. He may have been stifling the tendency for our class’s benefit.
Zahid passed various objects to all of us so we could try the training method on Olive. Each time, we had the same result – food rewards helped directionality. Vivien understood immediately what to do. I admit that I cringed away from the tentacle when it finally returned my object, a large yellow pyramid. But Olive’s skin was not as slimy as I thought, and was almost warm to the touch due to the ambient temperature of the water.
“So,” Vivien said, while Chloe stepped up to the tank, “we’re expected to train our octopus fleet to lift drums of water to the surface and make sure they stay there. Handing objects back to us is fascinating, sir, but I am not sure how this translates into our mining operation.”
Zahid looked Vivien up and down, noting her typical Ikin physique, and scowled. “Obviously, you put food on the sides of the container,” he said, as though that should have been obvious to all of us. Personally, I was glad Vivien thought to ask, because I was unclear on this subject myself. “And you will have to lure them along the correct route with a food trail. This could be a few weeks in the making, and as you go, you want to make sure they get less food reward, so that they can learn to follow all the steps before expecting anything.”
“But we will have to reward them at the end of every pick-up day?” Vivien retorted. Zahid heaved a sigh and nodded. “That’s a lot of extra food we have to produce,” Vivien said, staring straight at Zahid’s eyes. He refused to make eye contact with her. She was being awfully rude for an Ikin, but instead of feeling as though I should ask her to stop, on behalf of my fellow Gadhavi, I wanted to hug and thank her.
“The food you make isn’t my problem,” Zahid finally snapped. “I’m telling you that this is how we train our fleet.”
Ghadir stepped toward the two, and lowered her gaze like a good Senfte. “Perhaps,” she said softly, lilting her voice into a higher register, “we could coordinate the barrel transfer operation with a large meal. We will be responsible for feeding these beautiful creatures anyway.” I saw her eyes slide sideways to watch Zahid’s reaction. He tilted his nose into the air and inhaled, pleased to finally receive the respect he thought he deserved.
Vivien plucked at a lip with her fingers, but finally nodded. “That’s a good idea, Ghadir, thank you.” Zahid chewed his cheek and looked back to Olive’s training session, apparently irritated that an Ikin would speak to a Senfte as an equal.
Over dinner that night, discussion ran very deep about the best way to train our octopuses. During a short lull in the conversation, I looked at Vivien and said, “Thank you for asking the obvious, important question today.”
She shrugged. “I like you okay, Aelis, and you too, Chloe, but I’ve never liked most Gadhavi I’ve run across. I’m used to talking to a Bakalov boss, but I haven’t had to bow or scrape to anyone much and I don’t intend to start now.”
I can understand that many of you reading this are shocked. Sometimes I feel shocked myself, but this is really another argument for creating a “Rabbah” caste. We just work so well together, all of us, and it is so much easier to be on a conversant level with these hard-working women.
Our focus today was on octopus training, which took all day with no breaks. Our instructor was a thick-nosed Gadhavi, who worked for a marine salvage operation that uses trained Giant Octopuses, rather than humans in wet suits or submarines, to recover bits of flooded cities. We’ll be using Giant Octopuses as well, so Breathe Easy sent this trainer, Zahid, to teach us. I think he just arrived yesterday, because he still seemed unsure how to walk in the magnetic shoes.
There was a giant tank in the training room, taking up most of the space that we had been using to sit. We crowded against the back wall instead, while a huge, bumpy octopus, the color of ancient wet brick, waved a tentacle against the glass of its tank. Its suckers opened and closed in a mesmerizing pattern.
Zahid’s magnetic boots clanged against the floor as he walked over to the tank, and the octopus twitched another arm toward him.
“This is Olive, our third and currently oldest octopus working for us,” Zahid said, after he steadied himself against the thick clear plastic. “She has been with our fleet for nearly ten years, and we’re retiring her soon.” He looked almost wistful as he began to open a tiny lid of the tank, and one of Olive’s arms reached out to him. He pulled a fleshy piece of I’m not sure what out of his pocket and the tentacle took it out of his fingers, pulled it down and the food disappeared into the octopus’s folds.
“She’s a great demonstrator for you, since she already knows training steps, and I won’t have to reinforce her too much,” Zahid continued. “Reinforcing, by the way, is basically rewarding good behavior with food. There’s no perfect way to punish an octopus that won’t make him or her retreat, so we focus on positive reinforcement instead.”
He pulled another fleshy chunk from his pocket and handed it to Olive. She ate the food item faster this time, and moved the blob of her body closer to his edge of the tank. Another tentacle moved to the top of the tank and stayed there. Zahid stroked it like most people pet cats, and the tip of the tentacle curled around his wrist with each stroke.
“To train an octopus to move objects for you can be difficult,” he said, gazing deep into Olive’s milky eyes. “However, they are highly intelligent creatures, so the key to training with food is to respect them as creatures with many of the same needs and wants as you and I.”
Natsuki, Vivien, and Ihsan all nodded, and Durada scratched her neck. Samira’s eyes were practically bulging from her skull, and I swear she subtly leaned away from the tank.
Zahid pulled a container from a large cargo pocket in his suit, and handed it to Olive. She immediately pulled it down and, as best I can describe it, sat on it. She folded her body around the jar, skin pulsing.
“She’s figuring out how to open the jar,” Zahid said, finally looking at us. “Octopuses are great at solving puzzles, so it will only take her a minute to figure out how to take the lid off.”
Sure enough, the jar moved forward into Olive’s tentacles, and after suction cups attached along the lid, she pulled, and the lid popped off. Another squishy bit of fleshy substance sat at the bottom of the jar, and she practically crawled into the small space to inhale the food.
“Because octopuses have no bones, they are able to fit into very tight spaces,” Zahid cooed, more to Olive than to us. “That makes them great for salvage operations, and also very easy to transport or protect when, for example, a typhoon comes through and we need to pull our equipment out of the water.”
Zahid stomped over to a box near the door and pulled out a black cylinder, returned to the tank, and dropped it in. Moon Base’s miniscule gravity kept it from settling to the bottom immediately, and Olive grabbed the object and sat on it, feeling the object out. When she realized there was nothing to open on the cylinder, she moved it through her tentacles, waving the object back and forth in front of her eyes and pinching it with her suckers. Slowly, the object began making its way back to the top of the tank, and when it was within Zahid’s vicinity, he tossed another piece of food into the tank. Olive grabbed it with an arm and inhaled it, forgetting about the cylinder and letting the tentacle settle. When she did not immediately receive another piece of food, she moved the arm with the cylinder back toward the surface, and Zahid rewarded the motion with food. Finally, after a little back and forth, the tentacle came out of the water and Zahid took the cylinder, tossing a final piece of food into the tank.
“She figured out that I wanted the cylinder because I rewarded her motions in the right direction,” he said as he wiped the cylinder on his suit. “I’m going to put this back in the tank now, and she will be much more familiar with the object and what to do about it.”
He placed the cylinder back into the tank, and Olive grabbed it. Immediately the arm holding the object shot back out of the water, sprinkling the air with droplets from the tank. Zahid tossed some food to her. “See?” he said. If Olive had been a dog, I have no doubt Zahid would have trilled praises to her. He may have been stifling the tendency for our class’s benefit.
Zahid passed various objects to all of us so we could try the training method on Olive. Each time, we had the same result – food rewards helped directionality. Vivien understood immediately what to do. I admit that I cringed away from the tentacle when it finally returned my object, a large yellow pyramid. But Olive’s skin was not as slimy as I thought, and was almost warm to the touch due to the ambient temperature of the water.
“So,” Vivien said, while Chloe stepped up to the tank, “we’re expected to train our octopus fleet to lift drums of water to the surface and make sure they stay there. Handing objects back to us is fascinating, sir, but I am not sure how this translates into our mining operation.”
Zahid looked Vivien up and down, noting her typical Ikin physique, and scowled. “Obviously, you put food on the sides of the container,” he said, as though that should have been obvious to all of us. Personally, I was glad Vivien thought to ask, because I was unclear on this subject myself. “And you will have to lure them along the correct route with a food trail. This could be a few weeks in the making, and as you go, you want to make sure they get less food reward, so that they can learn to follow all the steps before expecting anything.”
“But we will have to reward them at the end of every pick-up day?” Vivien retorted. Zahid heaved a sigh and nodded. “That’s a lot of extra food we have to produce,” Vivien said, staring straight at Zahid’s eyes. He refused to make eye contact with her. She was being awfully rude for an Ikin, but instead of feeling as though I should ask her to stop, on behalf of my fellow Gadhavi, I wanted to hug and thank her.
“The food you make isn’t my problem,” Zahid finally snapped. “I’m telling you that this is how we train our fleet.”
Ghadir stepped toward the two, and lowered her gaze like a good Senfte. “Perhaps,” she said softly, lilting her voice into a higher register, “we could coordinate the barrel transfer operation with a large meal. We will be responsible for feeding these beautiful creatures anyway.” I saw her eyes slide sideways to watch Zahid’s reaction. He tilted his nose into the air and inhaled, pleased to finally receive the respect he thought he deserved.
Vivien plucked at a lip with her fingers, but finally nodded. “That’s a good idea, Ghadir, thank you.” Zahid chewed his cheek and looked back to Olive’s training session, apparently irritated that an Ikin would speak to a Senfte as an equal.
Over dinner that night, discussion ran very deep about the best way to train our octopuses. During a short lull in the conversation, I looked at Vivien and said, “Thank you for asking the obvious, important question today.”
She shrugged. “I like you okay, Aelis, and you too, Chloe, but I’ve never liked most Gadhavi I’ve run across. I’m used to talking to a Bakalov boss, but I haven’t had to bow or scrape to anyone much and I don’t intend to start now.”
I can understand that many of you reading this are shocked. Sometimes I feel shocked myself, but this is really another argument for creating a “Rabbah” caste. We just work so well together, all of us, and it is so much easier to be on a conversant level with these hard-working women.
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