The Ferret of Inconvenience

Tim paused, sniffing the air experimentally.

“What is it?” Julie inquired nervously, in half a whisper.

“Another elemental,” he said absently.

“Which one?”

“No idea.”

“Do all elementals smell alike?” she asked curiously. Since the two elementals she’d met seemed to have a mutual truce of sorts beyond their natural enmity, she figured they were probably safe, whatever it was.

“No elemental smells like anything,” he replied in the tones of someone who’s forgotten that what he’s saying is not obvious.

“Oh,” Julie replied, taking a second to battle and dispense with the knee-jerk illusion that she was the one who wasn’t making sense. “Then what on earth are you smelling?”

“Disembodied shower soap.” He sniffed again. “European shower soap, actually, though that doesn’t mean anything. I was in Belize this morning.”

“Eveline?” she asked. “She seems to like the French.”

He shook his head. “Eveline’s much more local than I am, and local to the Middle East. She only ventures out with good reason.”

“Like chasing you?”

“’Stalking’ is more in character. Don’t look at me like that; don’t you ever watch nature documentaries? But yes. Besides, she wears perfume. Chanel something-or-other.”

“Maybe what you’re smelling is disembodied shower soap,” Julie offered helpfully. “Is there a shower-soap elemental?”

“Don’t even think about it,” the hamster said laconically. It took Julie a second to realize that he was speaking not to her, but to a lanky creature in wire glasses and a ridiculous-looking fedora who had stepped up behind him and was providing a bunny-ear commentary. “And no,” he said, turning his attention back to her without missing a beat, “of course there isn’t. What planet do you live on?”

“Strong words from someone who only exists as a household pet,” the young man behind him said calmly.

“Stronger words from someone whose species has never been anything but,” the hamster replied, still not turning around. “Besides, I’m also a valuable laboratory subject, thank you very much.”

“Fair enough,” the other figure said, stepping forward. He wore jeans and a well-worn T-shirt, and – improbably enough – cowboy boots, complete with spurs. “Though you really can’t compete – how many domestic subspecies are banned from entire states out of concern they’ll go feral and attack livestock?”

“Man a'tana,” the hamster said dismissively. “I’m forbidden in all of Australia and New Zealand.”

“Yes, but they’re right about you.”

“But I never get a chance to live among the kangaroos!”

“You got CPR from John Kerry. That doesn’t count?”

The hamster gazed at his friend – he had to be a friend, no one is that annoying to someone they don’t like – in bewilderment. “No, John Kerry is not at all like a kangaroo!”

“Can the Australians tell that you’re a hamster?” Julie asked with curiosity. “Or are you on their no-fly list, or something?”

“Of course they can’t tell,” the newcomer responded. “Though as for the no-fly list, with that accent…. But he just likes being able to say that he’s illegal on an entire continent.”

“They’re very adamant!” the hamster protested.

“You look like a person! No customs agent is going to think that someone who looks like a person might secretly be a hamster! They’re just not!”

“Someone could tell them,” the hamster retorted. “I’m telling you, there’s a wallaby that has it in for me.”

The other elemental glanced at Julie and rolled his eyes. “It says ‘Mesocricetus Auratus’ on his passport, and no one has ever noticed!” He shook his head and offered his hand. “Anyway, pleased to meet you. I’m Greg, the Ferret of Inconvenience.”

“Greg?” she asked.

He shrugged. “People tell me I look like Rasputin. You can call me whatever you like.”

“That must be…inconvenient in Russia.”

“You have no idea. It’s bad for my professional image, too – there’s no way a ferret, however industrious and well-intentioned, could be anywhere near as inconvenient as that guy was.”

“So do you have your Latin name on your passport too?” she asked.

Greg shrugged. “Depends what I feel like. It’s convenient shorthand, but it’s as arbitrary as anything else. And it’s not like it’s a real passport, anyway.”

“Elementals travel on foraged papers?” she asked, grinning.

“More like illusory. It’s not like we’re citizens of anywhere, or can’t get anywhere we want to with enough effort. But human transport is convenient, especially since people are getting more paranoid about invasive species.” Tim shook his head. “Among other things. It makes more sense for Greg to use Latin, being so caught up with the Romans. I used to use أبو جراب, but it started causing problems with airport security. I got detained in Tokyo and almost missed the buffet!” He glared at the ferret, who spluttered.

“Why are you looking at me!?”

“There is no way you’re not involved in that somehow,” Tim said darkly.

“In Latin naming, or in airport security?!”

“Either, actually.”

Greg shrugged and tried to look innocent. “Besides,” he said, “at least you have a useable Latin name – look at Eveline. ‘Vipera Xanthera Palistinae’ makes it hard to get on a plane in any political climate.”

Tim grinned. “Especially on a passport from Syria! Don’t worry,” he added. “I don’t hold you responsible for that one. The Syrian government doesn’t need any help when it comes to inconvenience. Besides, she likes forging papers. I think she goes out of her way to do it.”

The hamster sighed, shoved his hand into his pocket, then froze. Julie could watch on his face as the wheels turned in his mind, though she couldn’t of course guess what about.

“Ran out of beer?” the ferret asked. Tim nodded, muttering something in Arabic. Out of his pocket he did draw a worn leather wallet, proceeding to rifle through wads of ragged receipts in a search for the occasional bill.

“Did you ever find out if that café sells alcohol?” he asked Julie.

“Yes.” She hoped it wouldn’t come up that she’d actually gone back and checked. She’d been curious. “Mostly hard lemonade. But you have to convince them that you’re of age. And you can’t drink it within the school zone.”

He nodded. “Right, that ID thing...could I see one of yours for a minute?”

“An ID?” He nodded again. Warily, she dug her driver’s license out of her own wallet, holding it at what she assumed was a readable distance from his face. Much as she trusted him, she didn’t want to hand it to him directly until she knew what he wanted with it. “Is that close enough?”

“Sure,” he said, pulling a similar-looking license out of his own wallet. She couldn’t help but wonder what age it said he was, but she couldn’t make out the date from where she stood. “I’ll be right back.”

“So,” Greg said as he exited from normal earshot – though who knew how far he could actually hear – “how did you come to make the acquaintance of the Non-Flying Hamster of Other Than Doom?”

“Is that his official title?” Julie asked, amused.

“Of course not,” the ferret replied. “He’s just a plain ordinary elemental hamster. To the extent that an elemental hamster can be ordinary, of course, and excluding the fact that that’s not really a category because he’s the only one. But I always understand people better when they have epithets. Always a big fan of Lucky Lindy – leaving aside the politics and all.”

“Why do you have one and he doesn’t?” she asked, curious. “An epithet, that is.”

“Oh, I’m not the archetypal ferret, by any means. I’m just the ferret of inconvenience.”

“What does that even mean?”

He shrugged. “I haven’t the foggiest. Having no good reason to exist has never been a problem to date, though.”

“Why would anyone date a problem?”

The ferret gaped at her in disbelief for an instant, then collapsed in table-thumping laughter. “I think that hamster is a bad influence on you!” he said finally, when he could speak again. “You look like someone who used to be sensible.”

“That’s interesting,” Julie observed. “I think I recall Eveline saying something about you being a bad influence on him.”

He snorted. “Eveline, I suspect, thinks of me as a classless interloper with lousy French.”

“Is she wrong?” Julie asked curiously.

“Not at all,” the ferret replied happily. He did look rather like Rasputin, albeit cleaner and lacking in facial hair and delusions of personal importance.

[...]

“So,” the ferret asked, “what do you do?”

“Me?” Julie asked, blinking. “I’m the Human Being of Bewilderment, apparently. In my free time, I teach science to second graders.”

“That must be interesting.”

“Frequently,” she said, trying to figure out what about her job would interest a cosmic ferret. “We start geology next week. I get to preview lots of lava videos.”

“Hey,” the hamster said, perking up. “Are those kids still fighting?”

“Which ones?” Julie asked wryly. Greg laughed.

“That middle-eastern-looking guy with the Midwestern accent and the serious expression. And the skinny girl with the hair that goes everywhere who got to take the parakeet home over winter break. He kept accusing her of sticking her tongue out at him – the boy, not the parakeet. They sit by the window.”

Julie nodded. “They’re doing better. I had the students make lists of the traits of their classmates, and for some reason she was very flattered that he asked her whether her hair was brown or black.”

“Which one did she want it to be?” Greg asked, puzzled.

“Dark enough to be confusing, I think,” Julie replied. “I have no idea. Anyway, she helped him draw a dinosaur in the next unit, and they seem to be done threatening each other for the time being.”

“Ah, well,” Tim said. “They were interesting.”

She glanced at him incredulously. “You have such weird standards. They’re still plenty interesting.”

“How?” the hamster asked. She couldn’t tell if he was being skeptical or curious; in either case, it wasn’t the easiest question to answer on the spot.

“Kids always make me feel like an extra in someone else’s life,” she said finally. “They’re so – self-absorbed isn’t quite the right word, but they are. They’ve got their own little world, their own fights and agreements about things I can’t begin to understand, and have no idea that the teacher goes home at night and buys groceries and has friends her age and has to put work into preparing for class.”

“And talks to hamsters,” Tim added peremptorily.

“Yes, but most teachers I’ve talked to don’t do that.”

“Do your kids have any idea that you do?”

“No…”

“See? So why does it matter if anyone else does it?” He glanced at Greg for support. The ferret just rolled his eyes.

“You like self-absorbed people with weird rules?” he asked. “No wonder you guys get along.” Tim glared at him, teeth chattering slightly. Greg made a face right back. “Stop being such a hamster.”

The ferret pulled a soda from the refrigerator, shook it vigorously, and handed it to Julie. She eyed him quizzically until he noticed.

“Oh, sorry. Reflex.” He took it back, shook it as vigorously in the reverse direction, and re-offered it. “It should be fine now. No, really!” He looked genuinely hurt.

Very warily, she held the can full-distance from her body over the sink, and gingerly popped the tab. In a jolting silence, nothing happened.

“See?” the ferret said proudly. “I can be perfectly convenient when I wanna be!"

Tim paused, sniffing the air experimentally.

"What is it?" Julie inquired nervously, in half a whisper.

"Another elemental," he said absently.

"Which one?"

"No idea."

"Do all elementals smell alike?" she asked curiously. Since the two elementals she’d met seemed to have a mutual truce of sorts beyond their natural enmity, she figured they were probably safe, whatever it was.

"No elemental smells like anything," he replied in the tones of someone who’s forgotten that what he’s saying is not obvious.

"Oh," Julie replied, taking a second to battle and dispense with the knee-jerk illusion that she was the one who wasn’t making sense. "Then what on earth are you smelling?"

"Disembodied shower soap." He sniffed again. "European shower soap, actually, though that doesn’t mean anything. I was in Belize this morning."

"Eveline?" she asked. "She seems to like the French."

He shook his head. "Eveline’s much more local than I am, and local to the Middle East. She only ventures out with good reason."

"Like chasing you?"

"’Stalking’ is more in character. Don’t look at me like that; don’t you ever watch nature documentaries? But yes. Besides, she wears perfume. Chanel something-or-other."

"Maybe what you’re smelling is disembodied shower soap," Julie offered helpfully. "Is there a shower-soap elemental?"

"Don’t even think about it," the hamster said laconically. It took Julie a second to realize that he was speaking not to her, but to a lanky creature in wire glasses and a ridiculous-looking fedora who had stepped up behind him and was providing a bunny-ear commentary. "And no," he said, turning his attention back to her without missing a beat, "of course there isn’t. What planet do you live on?"

"Strong words from someone who only exists as a household pet," the young man behind him said calmly.

"Stronger words from someone whose species has never been anything but," the hamster replied, still not turning around. "Besides, I’m also a valuable laboratory subject, thank you very much."

"Fair enough," the other figure said, stepping forward. He wore jeans and a well-worn T-shirt, and – improbably enough – cowboy boots, complete with spurs. "Though you really can’t compete – how many domestic subspecies are banned from entire states out of concern they’ll go feral and attack livestock?"

"Man a'tana," the hamster said dismissively. "I’m forbidden in all of Australia and New Zealand."

"Yes, but they’re right about you."

"But I never get a chance to live among the kangaroos!"

"You got CPR from John Kerry. That doesn’t count?"

The hamster gazed at his friend – he had to be a friend, no one is that annoying to someone they don’t like – in bewilderment. "No, John Kerry is not at all like a kangaroo!"

"Can the Australians tell that you’re a hamster?" Julie asked with curiosity. "Or are you on their no-fly list, or something?"

"Of course they can’t tell," the newcomer responded. "Though as for the no-fly list, with that accent…. But he just likes being able to say that he’s illegal on an entire continent."

"They’re very adamant!" the hamster protested.

"You look like a person! No customs agent is going to think that someone who looks like a person might secretly be a hamster! They’re just not!"

"Someone could tell them," the hamster retorted. "I’m telling you, there’s a wallaby that has it in for me."

The other elemental glanced at Julie and rolled his eyes. "It says ‘Mesocricetus Auratus’ on his passport, and no one has ever noticed!" He shook his head and offered his hand. "Anyway, pleased to meet you. I’m Greg, the Ferret of Inconvenience."

"Greg?" she asked.

He shrugged. "People tell me I look like Rasputin. You can call me whatever you like."

"That must be…inconvenient in Russia."

"You have no idea. It’s bad for my professional image, too – there’s no way a ferret, however industrious and well-intentioned, could be anywhere near as inconvenient as that guy was."

"So do you have your Latin name on your passport too?" she asked.

Greg shrugged. "Depends what I feel like. It’s convenient shorthand, but it’s as arbitrary as anything else. And it’s not like it’s a real passport, anyway."

"Elementals travel on foraged papers?" she asked, grinning.

"More like illusory. It’s not like we’re citizens of anywhere, or can’t get anywhere we want to with enough effort. But human transport is convenient, especially since people are getting more paranoid about invasive species." Tim shook his head. "Among other things. It makes more sense for Greg to use Latin, being so caught up with the Romans. I used to use أبو جراب, but it started causing problems with airport security. I got detained in Tokyo and almost missed the buffet!" He glared at the ferret, who spluttered.

"Why are you looking at me!?"

"There is no way you’re not involved in that somehow," Tim said darkly.

"In Latin naming, or in airport security?!"

"Either, actually."

Greg shrugged and tried to look innocent. "Besides," he said, "at least you have a useable Latin name – look at Eveline. ‘Vipera Xanthera Palistinae’ makes it hard to get on a plane in any political climate."

Tim grinned. "Especially on a passport from Syria! Don’t worry," he added. "I don’t hold you responsible for that one. The Syrian government doesn’t need any help when it comes to inconvenience. Besides, she likes forging papers. I think she goes out of her way to do it."

The hamster sighed, shoved his hand into his pocket, then froze. Julie could watch on his face as the wheels turned in his mind, though she couldn’t of course guess what about.

"Ran out of beer?" the ferret asked. Tim nodded, muttering something in Arabic. Out of his pocket he did draw a worn leather wallet, proceeding to rifle through wads of ragged receipts in a search for the occasional bill.

"Did you ever find out if that café sells alcohol?" he asked Julie.

"Yes." She hoped it wouldn’t come up that she’d actually gone back and checked. She’d been curious. "Mostly hard lemonade. But you have to convince them that you’re of age. And you can’t drink it within the school zone."

He nodded. "Right, that ID thing...could I see one of yours for a minute?"

"An ID?" He nodded again. Warily, she dug her driver’s license out of her own wallet, holding it at what she assumed was a readable distance from his face. Much as she trusted him, she didn’t want to hand it to him directly until she knew what he wanted with it. "Is that close enough?"

"Sure," he said, pulling a similar-looking license out of his own wallet. She couldn’t help but wonder what age it said he was, but she couldn’t make out the date from where she stood. "I’ll be right back."

"So," Greg said as he exited from normal earshot – though who knew how far he could actually hear – "how did you come to make the acquaintance of the Non-Flying Hamster of Other Than Doom?"

"Is that his official title?" Julie asked, amused.

"Of course not," the ferret replied. "He’s just a plain ordinary elemental hamster. To the extent that an elemental hamster can be ordinary, of course, and excluding the fact that that’s not really a category because he’s the only one. But I always understand people better when they have epithets. Always a big fan of Lucky Lindy – leaving aside the politics and all."

"Why do you have one and he doesn’t?" she asked, curious. "An epithet, that is."

"Oh, I’m not the archetypal ferret, by any means. I’m just the ferret of inconvenience."

"What does that even mean?"

He shrugged. "I haven’t the foggiest. Having no good reason to exist has never been a problem to date, though."

"Why would anyone date a problem?"

The ferret gaped at her in disbelief for an instant, then collapsed in table-thumping laughter. "I think that hamster is a bad influence on you!" he said finally, when he could speak again. "You look like someone who used to be sensible."

"That’s interesting," Julie observed. "I think I recall Eveline saying something about you being a bad influence on him."

He snorted. "Eveline, I suspect, thinks of me as a classless interloper with lousy French."

"Is she wrong?" Julie asked curiously.

"Not at all," the ferret replied happily. He did look rather like Rasputin, albeit cleaner and lacking in facial hair and delusions of personal importance.

[...]

"So," the ferret asked, "what do you do?"

"Me?" Julie asked, blinking. "I’m the Human Being of Bewilderment, apparently. In my free time, I teach science to second graders."

"That must be interesting."

"Frequently," she said, trying to figure out what about her job would interest a cosmic ferret. "We start geology next week. I get to preview lots of lava videos."

"Hey," the hamster said, perking up. "Are those kids still fighting?"

"Which ones?" Julie asked wryly. Greg laughed.

"That middle-eastern-looking guy with the Midwestern accent and the serious expression. And the skinny girl with the hair that goes everywhere who got to take the parakeet home over winter break. He kept accusing her of sticking her tongue out at him – the boy, not the parakeet. They sit by the window."

Julie nodded. "They’re doing better. I had the students make lists of the traits of their classmates, and for some reason she was very flattered that he asked her whether her hair was brown or black."

"Which one did she want it to be?" Greg asked, puzzled.

"Dark enough to be confusing, I think," Julie replied. "I have no idea. Anyway, she helped him draw a dinosaur in the next unit, and they seem to be done threatening each other for the time being."

"Ah, well," Tim said. "They were interesting."

She glanced at him incredulously. "You have such weird standards. They’re still plenty interesting."

"How?" the hamster asked. She couldn’t tell if he was being skeptical or curious; in either case, it wasn’t the easiest question to answer on the spot.

"Kids always make me feel like an extra in someone else’s life," she said finally. "They’re so – self-absorbed isn’t quite the right word, but they are. They’ve got their own little world, their own fights and agreements about things I can’t begin to understand, and have no idea that the teacher goes home at night and buys groceries and has friends her age and has to put work into preparing for class."

"And talks to hamsters," Tim added peremptorily.

"Yes, but most teachers I’ve talked to don’t do that."

"Do your kids have any idea that you do?"

"No…"

"See? So why does it matter if anyone else does it?" He glanced at Greg for support. The ferret just rolled his eyes.

"You like self-absorbed people with weird rules?" he asked. "No wonder you guys get along." Tim glared at him, teeth chattering slightly. Greg made a face right back. "Stop being such a hamster."

[...]

The ferret pulled a soda from the refrigerator, shook it vigorously, and handed it to Julie. She eyed him quizzically until he noticed.

"Oh, sorry. Reflex." He took it back, shook it as vigorously in the reverse direction, and re-offered it. "It should be fine now. No, really!" He looked genuinely hurt.

Very warily, she held the can full-distance from her body over the sink, and gingerly popped the tab. In a jolting silence, nothing happened.

"See?" the ferret said proudly. "I can be perfectly convenient when I wanna be!"