We Are Both Mammals by G. Wulfing

remember.”
    “ Daniel, I knew, when
Surgeon Suva-a said that all that was needed for the surgery was a
volunteer, that I was to be that volunteer.”
    There was a pause.
    “ And … what if our bloods
had not been compatible?” I asked soberly.
    Toro-a-Ba blinked at me again. “They would
be,” he said simply. “They are.”
    “ But … I mean
…”
    “ It was fated,
Daniel.”
    “ Oh.”
    I fell silent, realising in that moment that
I would receive no further explanation, because no further
explanation could be given; and that this conversation illustrated
a great deal about Toro-a-Ba.
    The surgeons had collaborated with dietary
specialists to draw up lists of things that Toro-a-Ba and I should
and should not do to care for our new bodies. There were foods that
we should avoid for a long time to come because they might be too
difficult to digest; we should eat very healthily and ‘cleanly’
from now on; we should chew our food thoroughly to make digestion
easier; drinking large quantities of water would become vital to
our mutual health; and if I drank even a modest amount of alcohol,
it was possible that Toro-a-Ba, with his much smaller body and the
thurga-a’s natural intolerance for alcohol, would become drunk; so
the surgeons recommended that we eschew alcohol altogether. This
saddened me slightly, as I had always enjoyed certain beers and
liqueurs; but the thought of giving the thurga beside me alcohol
poisoning was not acceptable. Using the clamps on the hose to
ensure that what I ingested did not reach Toro-a-Ba was strongly
discouraged by the surgeons: the purpose of the clamps was to
restrict the flow of fluids between us only when necessary, such as
when I was receiving drugs the quantity of which would harm
Toro-a-Ba, or if one of us ate something poisonous. After all, the
whole point of the hose was to enable Toro-a-Ba’s organs to support
mine: strangling that support would not be healthy. Teetotal I
would have to become.
    “ Remember, Avari-Ba,”
Surgeon Suva-a – a thurga with an unusual smudge of blonde fur
above the left side of the bridge of her nose – told me one
day, “that your physical capacity is far more massive than
Toro-a-Ba’s. I do not speak here about your size, for you are fully
aware of that; I mean your capacity. You are recovering from
near-lethal injuries, now, but when in time you are more thoroughly
healed you must remember that Toro-a-Ba cannot cover the distances
that you can cover; he cannot tolerate the amount of sound that you
can tolerate; he may not be able to jump as far or as high as you
can jump; and so on. Furthermore, his body is working harder than
normal in order to support yours. It is as though he is pregnant:
his organs are giving life to yours. If he becomes fatigued and
sickly, your body will suffer also.”
    I nodded slowly, considering this.
    Surgeon Suva-a continued, “We would not have
attached Toro-a-Ba to you, Avari-Ba, if we did not think that he
could keep up with you. However, he is not human. His needs are
different, his capacity is different; and I believe that in your
life together each of you will learn more about the other’s species
than you thought there was to learn.”
    I blinked.
    “ Toro-a-Ba,” the surgeon
addressed him, “you must always remain as healthy as possible, and
get plenty of sleep. You are pregnant with a creature larger than
any our species has ever borne.”
    I am, as I have said, not expert in reading
thurga-a facial expressions, but as far as I could tell, when
Surgeon Suva-a said these words she was completely earnest.
    But she voiced nothing that had not already
occurred, in one way or another, to me.
    Eventually, I was allowed to sit up
straighter and straighter. When I could sit almost bolt upright,
and all other tubes and hoses had been removed, I was allowed to
sit on the side of my bed. The hospital bed was lowered so that my
feet could touch the floor to avoid putting any strain on my
abdomen. It