I‘ve woken up in an unfamiliar land. It‘s been a while, but only now I‘ve managed to find something resembling paper and pen. First I assumedto be dreaming, but can a dream last this long, does a dream feel this real?
I‘ve pinched myself many times to no avail. The best way forward is to occupy myself with exploring and learning about this strange place.
The days are long and arduous ... a day may lasts two weeks. In stark contrast the night passes swiftly, yet nevertheless the sudden lack of light poses a great danger to many.
At nightfall the luminoids wake from their slumber and shine bright, acting as both lighthouse and campfire, gathering all sorts of wanderers. As thanks for wading through the night safely the visitors offer nutritious blood via the luminoid‘s ground level suckers, so its light may continue finding lost souls in the dark.
Similarly to the luminoids, the fruitbearers wander the barren lands to help stray souls, to feed the starving. Their fruits - a protein and sugar consistency - have prevented the demise of many hungered. Yet again like the luminoids, gifts of gratitude are left by the saved in form of tears. The liquids from one weep may nurture the fruitbearer for several days, and provide the energy to grow a new batch of fruits.
The cities in this world are truly a sight to behold. Rather than being built, they grow like organic matter.
I have not yet seen two buildings look alike in these cityscapes. Some bigger cities have even merged with the planet itself. I tried drawing a few architectures I fancied.
I had a unique and delightful encounter! I met the first symbiont who could directly communicate: an arbite. Its feelers had the ability to talk directly to my brain and receive signals in return. Its name is Froup! Froup told me it was on a pilgrimage to Omela‘s Child. Froup‘s partner had died recently and the trauma was too much to bear alone. Froup invited me to tag along, and I accepted.
Omela‘s Child is a being residing in planet‘s core and is revered as a deity. When suffered trauma is too great to process, the nearest node of the Child calls out and the symbiont embarks on a pilgrimage.
On arrival, excess trauma is transfered through the node to the Child. I wonder if the Child feeds off the trauma or if it is taking it on as a burden.
For a long time the underdwellers were shrouded in mystery to me, and frankly, their spider-like appearance creeped me out.
To my surprise, when i encountered one, it seemed quite friendly and affectionate. It led me into their lair, excitedly showing off their habitat and strange architectures.
I tried mapping out their tunnel network, but gave up in futility.
The ourobouros are among the strangest symbionts I‘ve encountered. They live in colonies of differing sizes, and by colony I mean a chain of slowly digesting cannibals. They‘ve developed a zero waste nutrient absorption, forming loops of perpetual equilibrium. Their lifespans belong to the longest here.
Chronomorphs mirror the ourobouros in an ironic way. They too sustain themselves cannibalistically, but the offspring feeds on the parent from inside. At half-life, having fully devoured the parent, their own offspring is born and the lineage continues. One such cycle lasts about a half minute.
One might pity the brevity of their lives, but thirty seconds feel like fifty years for them.
Floating through the skies sporadically in their large, yet ethereal bodies, their pulse of life and death grants a calming rhythmic quality to the landscape. When needed, chronomorphs serve to measure time.
If plants exist here, I haven‘t seen them.
Oxygen is generated by lungplants. Their trypophobic body gives me shivers.
It expands and contracts like a lung, making wet and slimy sounds.
Recombobulators and assimilators come in pairs and mostly dwell in the cities, where waste accumulates quickest and steadiest. Theirs is a rather straightforward recycling role. The recombobulator picks up whatever, pasteurizing it into a gooey homogenous paste. The assimilator filters that into solids and liquids, rejuvenating the matter in the process.
Providing food to small-statured symbionts, this duo is an important backbone to any sustainable city.
These two fellas suddenly came up to me.
All I could decipher from their gibberish were their names. Squorf and Chorn, how peculiar! Somehow this meeting helped me feel less lonely in this weird place. Squorf and Chorn.. are they travelers like me?
I‘ve made an important, but scary discovery.
An ancient crystal and instructions. From what I‘ve deciphered it folds the flow of time upon itself.
I need a chronomorph embryo, three bones from Omela‘s Child and a few blood drops from yours truly. Maybe this is blasphemy, but I have to try.
I‘m desperate to go home, or at least to go somewhere. This dream has lasted too long ...
