Gloves. You love them. You hate them. More likely than not, you don’t feel anything about them. After all, they are just strips of cloth sewn together to mimic the shape of a human hand, are they not? I mean, are we supposed to have opinions on every article of clothing? Is an ideological rift forming around the existence of socks, or hats? Scratch that. There’s always been a massive ideological rift around hats. I mean, come on. Just look at every religion. Different hats.
But we weren’t here to talk about hats, or necklaces, or shirts. We were here to talk about one thing, and one thing only; gloves. Or two things as it may be, because there is always two of them. Until one is lost some day in the middle of the woods, or left thoughtlessly at the bottom of a pile of tools. Then there is one. Then, they cannot fulfill their duty.
Gloves. You don’t care much about them. But you need them. You desperately, desperately need them. Why? Well, because you’re a horrible little thing aren’t you? I mean, of course you are. No regular human would have gotten this deep into a tirade about gloves without thinking that I was completely mad, and with good reason. This is the kind of thing you learn when you’re two years old. Maybe less. As an infant, you see a glove, you put it in your mouth and try to chew on it with your non-existant teeth. Then you know what a glove is, and nobody has to preface a guide with 250 words meant to obfuscate and confuse the civilian reader should they ever get their oh so normal hands on it. No.
No, we are here to learn about gloves because we need to learn about gloves, don’t we? After all, we’ve had a bit of trouble where the cosmetic surgery is wearing off on some of our operatives in the most grotesque of ways. Why I clarify that, I don’t quite know; any way the disguise wears off would be seen as grotesque, either to ourselves or to the myriad packs of humans. Our surgical facilities, of course, are not what they used to be, and there’s very little hope that we’ll ever have anything comparable to the tools and environment of Tarrow, so…
So it behooves us, the ones of us who still dwell on the surface, to learn of ersatsz ways we can keep the scheme running. There’s thirty more years until the expected end of the current state of the world, and we’ll only be shooting ourselves in the foot by unveiling anything right before the end to select audiences, so it’s best we do our due diligence and keep our true identities secret, yes?
Of course, we all agree. We know what happens when we are revealed. Poor sods. It was a fate that nobody hoped for, yet the malicious xenophobia of humanity demanded. Strangeness does not sit easily with them, just as it did not sit well with our kin back home. Difference is, of course, that our kindred never bothered much with ballistics beyond which was needed to send ships to the stars. Humans, on the other hand… death is what they crave in all things, and they will crave it in you.
So, gloves. Gloves are an agent’s best friend. Usually. The hands are almost always the aspect of the prostheses which breaks first, simply due to the fact that they are in contact with surfaces and work much more than any other part of the disguise. Again, this is where I thank the Lost One for our similar(ish) biology, in that we are able to mimic human movements through the prostheses at all. Can you imagine if we had differing amounts of appendages? Where would the extra arms and legs even go?
But, seriously. Your hands will wear out first. Especially if, say, you are as unfortunate as myself, and wind up getting your claws snatched in a door. It was my left hand, too, my dominant. Anyways, damage to the exoskeleton is still easily repairable at any of our depots, but the outward appearance? There’s a very specific way that humans will meld their flesh to metal, and its not one that we can easily mimic (at least not anymore.) Due to the prohibitive costs, you’ll likely wind up with one of your hands unmistakably mechanical, a technology which humanity is woefully unfamiliar with.
So a glove, right? You just slap a glove on that hand and everything’s good, right? Not quite. You know how humans have two hands, yes? Well, it’s very rare that they just wear one glove at a time. After all, most of the time gloves are worn to ward off inclement temperatures. The heat of a blowtorch, the chill of a freezer, stuff like that. Or they are worn to escape a more physical bite, such as the sharp prongs which stud barbed wire.
The only way one glove may be worn at a time is as a fashion statement. Well, that’s not expressly true; humans may also wear a singular glove to cover the scars of an injury, but, of course, we must pretend at no such thing. Drawing attention to the potential ‘scarring’ is the last thing we want to do. So, do you think yourself competent in human fashion? Surely not, right? After all, their eyes are adapted to see more colors than ours are, and they do not perceive contrast or saturation as keenly. What hope then do you or I have at knowing what is ‘aesthetically pleasing?’
Therefore, when the time comes that you must wear a glove, it is probably best to wear two. What will be your explanation for such a thing? Well, since you’re probably not in extreme temperatures or doing hard labor, there is but one reason: germaphobia. You are afraid of bacteria and viruses. They’ll get you. They’ll kill you.
Does this make logical sense? Of course not. Why, a glove is almost certainly going to carry more germs around on it than a regularly washed hand. But the humans are irrational, as always. Touching things with your hands is gross. Play into that act. Develop the neuroses.
The hands are done. Almost every other portion of the body is easier to cover up with traditional clothing. Long sleeves do wonders, and, while strange in tropical portions of the world, can be waved away if worn with a light hoodie under the excuse of ‘avoiding sunburn.’ That leaves, unfortuantely, the face.
Damage to the facial prosthesis is usually avoidable. Emissaries are, at all times, encouraged to avoid dangerous situations, brawls of any kind, and any area where humans are consuming alcohol or other intoxicants. Aside from assault, the only reason the head should be damaged is by great accident, another reason why discourage our flock from taking part in any physically active occupations like logging, smelting, or parks maintenance. Given occupations of little physical risk, the facial prosthesis is estimated to last five hundred years - time enough for all of us of the initial generation to die, and hopefully time enough for us to have integrated deeply enough into human society to not be seen as existential threats.
But suppose the unthinkable happens. A freak storm appears in your area and knocks a tree limb directly into your face, creating a great gash in your prosthesis’ forehead. What then?
It cannot be stated enough. There is practically no reason why a human covers the upper portion of their face. Bandanas, medical masks… these are worn at the lower portion of the head, and usually nowhere near the eyes. If for some reason your disguise begins to chip away at the forehead or in the vicinity of the eyes, the only excuse you will have for being out and about is if the form you were given was that of a human female. In such cases extremely conservative religious garb may be worn that will obscure all but the wearer’s eye slits. Unfortunately, wearing such clothing outside of the supercontinent’s central region (commonly known as the Middle East) will attract all sorts of attention that you’d rather avoid, and will also imply that you are well versed in the tenets of the Islamic faith. That’ll be a couple months of training at the very least, if you’re to remain within standard security protocols.
Remember; the importance of the mission is greater than any individual’s ego. If you feel you cannot participate in missions with a fractured disguise, then do not do so. Our clandestine abilities wane with every passing year as more and more of the flock’s number return to home base for administrative duties. This may make it feel like any and all surface agents should remain as such barring the most horrible prosthesis damage. After all, if all those who suffer damage retreat from the surface, then what will we have left?
Do not take those concerns seriously. We estimate a thirty year period before we have entrenched ourselves in transnational government in order to give our kind protected status. Thirty years is not so long, and even pessimistic predictions put the timespan at forty. What if we are discovered by the public before then? The rampant xenophobia of the human will mean one thing and one thing only; extermination. If they expend so much of their resources on creating ways to blow each other up because they have a slightly different skin color or speak a funny language, what will they do to a race of people who are utterly alien in all physical aspects?
I know I said as much already. But come on. This is one of those things that must be clawed again and again into your head. When they see us, they kill us. And if they do not, then they will find somebody else to do the dirty deed for them. I do not want you dead. The Lost One does not want you dead. You, presumably, do not wish to be dead. So I repeat, I repeat, I claw and I claw.
And if you’re that one human out there who was not dissuaded by boredom or the lunacy of what I have said above, I must now appeal to your sense of morality. I know your kind have it. You act with as much bravery in civilization as you do in barbarism. The bravest thing you can do, the kindest, the best, is to keep quiet about what you think you have learned. We do not pose a threat to you. We barely ever posed a threat to ourselves.
Thus concludes A Beginner’s Guide to Gloves. Next time we’ll discuss such riveting topics as ‘Hair Ribbons. Are They the Right Look For You?’ and ‘Washing Your Clothes: How to Not Wind Up With Pink Socks.’
