When I was very young, my crèche-parents took me with them on their ambassadorial mission to earth, Homeworld of humanity. Being a sociable Arathin, I quickly made a human friend, a male named Sam. Often we would walk together as he showed me the beauty of his planet. Apparently, for a long time, humanity had despoiled their world, burning fossil fuels and releasing toxic gasses from industrial activity. However, with the invention of orbital manufacturing and the embrasure of clean nuclear power, earth was left to recover, becoming a beautiful if dangerous garden world. And truly, it was beautiful. Snow capped mountains, fields of grass, verdant forests, bleak deserts. The biodiversity of earth’s life and biomes were truly astounding. Yet through it all, Sam had a sadness to him, as if he kept a horrible secret that was too painful to share.

In time, I learned that secret.

As I approached my Time of Metamorphosis, I, like many Arathin grew sorely afraid. For the first time, I would be on my own, cut off from the love and support of my crèche-parents. I remember the terror as my body began to spin my silk around me, an autonomic function I had no control over.

I remember the Fugue, a hazy time of change and anticipation, as my exoskeleton melted away, exposing the supple skin of adulthood, so similar to the humans.

When at last I emerged, carefully saving the silk for my Cloak of Remembrance, and spread my wings to the yellow light of Sol, Sam was there, smiling his same sad smile. He hadn’t changed at all, yet now there was a gulf between us. I was a young adult, and he was not.

When the vivid colors of sexual maturity flushed my wings, I initially looked to Sam, before sadly realizing that he was nowhere near where I was. In time, I left earth for Arath, to seek out a male and to mate. As I boarded the ship, Sam waved goodbye, still as youthful as ever.

When I returned to earth as ambassador with my mate and my own egg, Sam was there, waiting. Perhaps a bit taller, but still as young. It shames me, but at the Egg-time, it was not my mate I wished to be there, but Sam. In time, my own crèche-child, a female, took him as a playmate, much as I had.

Her own Metamorphosis came and went, still Sam was unchanged. She returned with her own crèche, a rare double laying, still Sam remained unchanged.

As I grew into the role of an advisory ambassador, often I would spend time with my old playmate, but it was never the same. We were worlds apart. I, jaded by the worries and travails of adulthood, he still resplendent in the naivety of childhood.

As my wings shriveled, my hair silvered, my skin sagged and wrinkled, still Sam remained mostly unchanged. Slightly taller, but still a child. As we would talk, he would give me his same sad smile.

As I reached the Endphase, Sam was there at my bedside. His voice randomly changed pitch and fine soft hair was sprouting on his face, which I’m told are the first signs of burgeoning maturity in human males. I was nearing the end of my life cycle while his was just beginning. At the very end, I saw the salty liquid, tears they call it, welling from his eyes as he sat with me.

“Sam, why do you sorrow for me?”

“It isn’t fair, Arde. We had such a short time together. You are my very best friend and you’re going to be gone soon.”

I smiled and took his hand in mine. “Oh, my friend. We had a lifetime together. My love will always be with you. Even after I’m gone. Don’t sorrow so. Not for me. I got to spend my entire life cycle with you. How many friends can say that? How many childhood friends can say that their friendship lasted so long? We were lucky that way.”

“I’m sorry we couldn’t be adults together. I know how you felt. I’m not sure I’m capable of it yet, but if I were an adult I think I would’ve felt the same way. What will I do without you, Arde?”

“Beloved Friend, in the long years to come, I will always be with you. Remember me fondly.” As is my right, I gave him my Cloak of Remembrance, and held his hand. It was the last sensation I felt as I settled into the Final Sleep.

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For the umpteenth time, I watch an Arathin emerge from her chrysalis, and for the umpteenth time, my heart lurches in my chest. For generations, I’ve waited. Watched. Arde’s descendants remind me so much of her, it hurts. It’s one of the universes great cruelties that most of the races we’ve encountered have such short life cycles. An even bigger cruelty that the Arathin resemble their forebears much more than humans do.

As I watch Arde’s face emerge once again, watch her beautiful wings unfurl and dry in the sun, my heart aches. She is not Arde. She doesn’t have the memories of our short, shared childhood. But she smiles at me, and my heart soars. She reaches out to me and my blood burns. For a short period of time, finally, we are the same age.

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Even among the creatures of earth, humans are extraordinarily long lived. Most people don’t realize this, but compared to other apes, our lives are nearly three times as long. Even among other animals, a scant handful live longer than we do. Tortoises. Larger whales. Tardigrades. It turns out that humans are the nigh immortal elves of the animal kingdom.