Jupitans Next Door
Chuck sat down on the couch with a popcorn bar. He unwrapped it as the extraplanetary satellite connected to his television. The wall's television flickered to life with blue and green hues as the latest episode of "Jupitans Next Door".
At least, that's roughly what it meant. Professional cultural ambassadors worked to study their culture and adapt it as best as possible to a human audience.
He let out a loud laugh from his gut as the Jupitan father failed to assemble the gravity feature in the crib for his newborn. The instructions were written in Thyonese, a language known for its poetry but lack of precision.
His mother walked in the room and watched the characters on-screen.
"Chuck, it's late," she reminded him. "Are you still watching that strange alien show?"
"It's not strange mom, it's a sitcom. It's just like the ones you had growing up."
"I remember my sitcoms having a lot of humans in it."
"Well anyway, I'll go to bed soon. Just after this episode."
"And you have a trip tomorrow? To?"
"Ganymede. To meet with the ambassador. We're collaborating on their new project around kelp. So they've apparently developed a new strain that..."
"Kelp? Ganymede? Why can't you visit someplace normal, like... like the new Disneyland opening in Kurdistan? With oxygen and normal gravity?"
Chuck tried his best to remain stoic. His mother was from a different era. She could never understand the value of interplanetary travel.
"Mom, Ganymede is normal. The whole city is one giant mall with climate control and gravity control. Besides, it is my job to explore new places and cultures. That's what I do."
His mom shook her head. No matter how many times he told her, she never could believe he was successful.
"What's happening now?" she referred to the characters paused on the flickering screen. "Did that blue fellow manage to put the crib together?"
Chuck grinned. "Actually, he set the anti-gravity to max and it launched into orbit. It's pretty funny."
His mom sat down on the couch next to him.
"Popcorn bar?" he offered.
"With all of your fancy technology you've invented something like looks like a brick and not food."
"It doesn't get stuck in your teeth," he shrugged.
Her eyes turned back to the screen, where the father scratched his head with his three long fingers and muttered in a low voice.
"What's he saying?" she asked.
"Telling the crib makers to eat a slug."
"Oh?"
"That's a bad thing."
On screen, another character entered.
"Who is that?" his mom asked.
"His wife," Chuck answered.
"Have you considered rotating the flux capacitor 360 degrees?" the alien asked.
The alien pulled out wires from the crib, leaving the metal exposed. Then it landed safely onto the ground.
"Are they going to put the baby in that?" his mom asked incredulously. "It looks dangerous."
"That's the joke. It's funny because it's absurd."
His mom's face grew confused and unhappy. "I don't understand why anyone would find that funny."
"It's parents being overwhelmed by babies. It's a universal experience."
Chuck shood his head, realizing that the nuances of this alien culture were too much for his mother. He decided it would be better if he just watched the show quietly, letting their bizarre antics wash over him.
As the scene ended, his mother rose from the couch.
"Well, I'm off to bed. That was... interesting. But I don't understand why you find those... this show so entertaining."
Chuck waved as he walked up the stairs.
"Maybe you will, mom. One day."