Below

by Thought Prism

Below

It is dark, and I am alone.

That's nothing new, though. I like the dark; thrive in it, even. It is where my kind is supposed to be, I think. Though, I wouldn't know for sure.

I cannot remember much of my youth. Surely, I had parents and siblings. Perhaps they could have taught me a few things, were they here. Instead, I live in the depths, where company is few and far between. To say I am alone may have been somewhat false, though. Yes, there are others, but none like me. I am smart, I think. Smarter than the others. Or maybe I just can't see my own stupidity.

While I do not know for certain my relative intellect, since the others do not often communicate in any way I can understand, I do know my place. I am the largest, the strongest. I can eat most of the others.

Consuming them comes naturally to me, in a way I cannot explain. I mostly focus on the scaly ones, with the crunchy bits in the middle. I call those Scale-Fins. All are smaller than me, so my hard, sharp mouth can fit. I catch them with my sticky arms, which they do not have. Some are distracted, and are caught easily, while others must be chased. There are also Clear-Softs, which I do not eat even though they are slow. They make me sick, I know. I do not know how I know. I wish I did.

I also do not know how long I have existed. I am aware that time passes, but there is nothing in the dark I can use to keep track, except the rhythms of my own body. I think I am old, though, because I am large.

Sometimes, I see others who are like me, but smaller. I have never seen myself, but I can feel my body, and they look as if they move and exist in the same way. They are the Armed-Hard-Mouths, and have eyes on one end of their bodies, almost like a mix of the Clear-Softs and the Scale-Fins. When they see me, their body light changes from what they were showing before to show they are afraid, and flee. I never see anything else from them, because of this.

If they are as smart as me, I will never find out. If I need to, I will eat them, as my existence demands of me, but I do not want to. I do not want to be alone, and so I wonder what existing is like for these others. If my hunger is not too great, I try to communicate with them. But it never seems to work. Perhaps they all think I'm trying to eat them. This makes me hurt, even when I am not injured, and I do not know how. It makes me remember I am alone, so I keep trying anyway, growing in knowledge, so that I might succeed eventually.

And so I exist, and think, as I move through the dark of the world. At the moment, there is not much to be seen or felt. None of the others are near for me to eat. Case in point, I get lost in my own musings in times like these.

The world is cold now, more so than usual. It is also more clear, making it easier to see. Perhaps that is why the Scale-Fins are not here. Or could there be another reason? I haven't thought to check before now. If I move, and find them somewhere else, they might be more willing to communicate than they are in these depths.

Well, I want to know if that will work now, so I move upwards, out of the dark. The world bends around and through me as I ascend. It becomes warmer, but something about the world changes once I move into the light, besides the light itself: the world presses me in place more weakly. The light makes my eyes hurt, which is bad, and I feel less secure.

However, there are others here. I come upon an unsuspecting Scale-Fin, its attention focused on its own process of consumption as it moves through a group of even smaller Scale-Fins, ones so tiny I never bother with.

It only feels my arm moving to snatch it when it is too late. I pull it down into my mouth as it struggles to escape.

My vigor renewed, I continue my impromptu journey. I do not know what it is called, but I am propelled by a new feeling. It is like hunger, but for knowledge instead of food. Normally, I would go back down into the dark after eating, as being in the light feels unnatural to me, but this time I do not. I need to sate myself.

So I keep going, up and up and up. Soon, the light becomes extremely bothersome. I cannot even make out how my body light is changing, anymore, that's how not-dark it is in this not-deep.

That is when I see something extraordinary.

There is an edge to the world, up here in the light. I never knew there was more than one. I feel… neither fear nor this new not-hunger, but something similar to both.

It is unlike the other edge, the one at the bottom of the world. That one is hard, like my mouth or the inside of the Scale-Fins, and I cannot see through it, so I call it the Hard-End. Others who are unique exist down there, moving by using the Hard-End with their arms, or not at all.

But this one is very different. This edge is like nothing else I have felt before. The world moves up here, as if it were shaking to escape the grip of my arm. Or as if it exists like myself or the others. But this makes no sense. The world, with its light and its darkness, is the only thing that does not exist, right?

Maybe I'm not very smart after all.

Then, I see something else I have never seen. Off in the distance, moving along this Nothing-End, is something large. Larger than me. I have only seen others larger than me a few times. It is getting closer, propelled by the uniform motion of many arms. To continue existing, I flee, moving down to escape its hunger. I neither want to exert myself or draw attention, so I move cautiously, keeping my gaze fixed on this massive other's body.

It does not follow me, merely passing above as is bobs slightly. It does not leave the Nothing-End, as if it is incapable. Actually, as I watch it move, I notice that a good half of it actually lies outside the world, in the nothingness above.

This is all so strange to me. First, I learn of an edge to the world up here in the light, and now, I find another who can actually exist partially outside the world itself. Nothing else is similar. I want to know more.

My body is telling me not to, but I approach anyway because of my not-hunger, getting close enough to the other to make out details. The other does not flex its body, only its arms, in order to move. I think it is hard all over, like it has a shell, or scales, but not exactly either. I do not touch it with my arms, though, for I do not wish to disturb it. I will call this kind Nothing-End-Dwellers.

I am not going to eat it, and yet I pursue, moving as far down as I can and still see where the Nothing-End-Dweller is going. The world still feels too bright, too fragile, this far up. I can move more quickly, but I have less control over where I'm going as the world bends around my body. Perhaps there are more others up here, and becoming used to this place will let me eat more often. At least, that's why my body seems to be supporting my endeavors. But this new feeling of not-hunger… it is definitely driving me now. I need to follow this Nothing-End-Dweller's course.

I follow for a while. As I do, the light slowly turns to dark. At first, I fear that the world is pushing me down, away from the Nothing-End. However, I can still clearly see the Nothing-End-Dweller I have been following, and realize that the light itself had vanished. This increases my not-hunger. Now I can stay near the edge with greater ease.

At the same time as the dark arrives, the Nothing-End-Dweller stops moving its arms, pulling them back into itself. It must be confident that its size alone will deter hungry others, such as myself. I use the opportunity to descend, snatching a medium-sized, Scale-Fin from among a large group of them, and consume it. I know that it is bad to gorge on all the others in such a group, because then I won't be able to consume any of them again later.

Returning to the Nothing-End, I see that the Nothing-End-Dweller has drifted a bit, pulled along by the world's motion. I have seen some larger Scale-Fins do this on rare occasions. It is called sleeping. They are easier to consume when they are asleep, since they do not resist unless they wake. It seems like a terrible idea, I do not know why they would put themselves at risk like that. I do not sleep.

I am interrupted from my musings once more. Almost as soon as it vanished, the light returns. I do not like it any more than when I saw it the first time. However, the light causes the Nothing-End-Dweller I have been watching to stir. I was expecting it to pull out its arms again, but it instead slowly raises a wide fin on its back. Or at least the part outside the world. I cannot see if it has eyes or a mouth, so I am unsure. It starts to move, faster than before. As it does, I notice something odd about it. For some reason, this fin is in the wrong direction, rotated in the opposite way as every other fin I've seen. It shouldn't be able to move nearly that fast like that! But it can. Maybe whatever lies outside the world forces others to move differently. Oh! There's a thought. Can others exist completely outside the world? If they can, judging by this one, they would be extremely different from the ones who do. This Nothing-End-Dweller I've been watching hasn't eaten at all since I found it. It might eat others that live outside the world. If I keep following it, perhaps I'll get to see them. And if they can move halfway into the world too, I can try and communicate with them. I will learn more first, though.

The Nothing-End-Dweller continues to move, in roughly the same direction. I haven't been very far in this direction before. Others of a size large enough for me to bother with are more scarce in this area. Now, I might know why that is. It is good that I managed to eat a bit ago. I am not hungry, and can focus on the Nothing-End-Dweller.

The light fades again, but this time the Nothing-End-Dweller keeps moving, using its fin in that mysterious, otherworldly manner. I continue along near it. Time passes. The light returns.

Detecting something below me, I look down, and nearly bolt away in fright. Because the Hard-End is visible. I look back up, and yes, I can still see the Nothing-End-Dweller. I come to the unsettling conclusion that the world itself is actually far smaller where I am now. No wonder there are fewer others here. At least, fewer of the kind I know. If I go further, I might see more of the Nothing-End-Dwellers.

I have already come this far, so I figure it would be a waste of strength to turn back now. I keep moving, suppressing my fear with my not-hunger. I stay closer to the Hard-End as I do. Slowly, the world shrinks more and more, and the unevenness of both edges becomes more pronounced. I try not to think about what would happen if I somehow became trapped here.

Fortunately, I do not have to try very much, since something else appears: a second Nothing-End-Dweller. It is smaller than the one that led me here, about half the size of my body, and only has two arms. Maybe it is a younger one.

However, that's not the part which surprised me. From this position, I can make out others moving on top of it, completely outside the world. I see three of them, and they are like no others I have seen. Each has a completely different body light, incredibly bright, and none look exactly the same. Some of them have odd-looking fins on their bodies, or single teeth coming up out of their heads. They move in an even more bizarre manner than the Nothing-End-Dweller they are on, pressing against it with four stubby arms to move. Are they stuck? Or is that how they always move? They remind me of the others I have seen at the Hard-End.

Wait, never mind that, why is the large one allowing them to touch it? When two or more others are together, they are always the same kind, I think. The Nothing-End-Dweller should be either eating them or keeping away from them!

Well, clearly I'm wrong in this case. I shift my attention to the Four-Arms. They appear to be grabbing somebody else with the arms they were using to move before. It is thin and wide, with many spaces of nothing. I expect them to try and eat it, but instead they push most of it away, into the world. There, it surrounds a cluster of thin, dark others on the Nothing-End which had escaped my notice. After a moment, they pull it back out through the edge, carrying the others with it.

I… have no words for this. Four-Arms use two types of others to help them consume more of a different kind? How do they manage to communicate with both the one they are on and the one they push around? They aren't even close to the same! Could I learn to do that? If I could get others to help me eat, surely I would have an easier time existing. And I would no longer be alone.

Now fully determined to learn their behavior, I observe them from below with even greater scrutiny. It seems that context is enough instruction, as the Nothing-End-Dweller starts to move whenever the Four-Arms finish eating. As far as I can tell, nothing they do varies from their habit of 'eat, move, repeat'. Continuing to observe this group seems to be futile. I abandon them, moving further away from where I started, in the direction the bigger one went.

After only a bit of travel, I regain my sights of it. It is motionless now, fin retracted again. I cannot get too close, though. Since at this point, the world had become so small that I'd have no room to move around while also keeping close to the Hard-End. I have gotten somewhat used to the brightness of the Nothing-End, though. The two edges of the world meet at a point beyond where the other rests. I suppose I could call it Third-End. Beyond that, there is likely total nothingness. This fact does not shock me as much as I thought it would.

Then I notice the Four-Arms. There are many of them, and they are moving from the larger, likely older, Nothing-End-Dweller to a smaller one. Were they on top of the large one the whole time? Either way, a good portion of them have more others on top of them. None of them are familiar, though all are covered in the same hard stuff as the Nothing-End-Dweller that carried them all this way, and are fairly round. None of these others have arms, or fins, so I think they are eggs.

The small Nothing-End-Dweller then starts to move. I am surprised when it heads toward the Third-End. I can barely see what is happening at this distance, but the Four-Arms definitely left. They move in the nothingness in the same manner as before, using all of their arms to prop themselves up.

In an instant, I understand.

These Four-Arms did indeed live outside the world. Though, there is something more than nothing beyond it: where the edges meet, the Hard-End continues on, without the world above it. They need the Nothing-End-Dwellers to move into the world to eat. I think that's a very inefficient way to exist, but I have seen it is true that it works.

I continue observing them. The Four-Arms keep taking more eggs from the large one, riding the small one to the edge and back. After they move back and forth like this for a while, my not-hunger compels me to search elsewhere, and learn more new knowledge.

I do so. I follow along the Third-End, keeping my distance. I only need to move for but a few moments before I indeed see more of the Four-Arms. As before, no two are alike in terms of their body lights. Some are gripping shiny things of various sizes in their arms. All of them appear to be clustered around another of the Nothing-End-Dwellers. It is injured, missing a good chunk of its body, and has apparently been dragged out of the world to rest on the edge.

Then, more Four-Arms move into view. They are all grabbing a piece of hard not-shell of the same sort as on the large one. Approaching it, they place the shell piece onto the other.

This does not make sense. Why are they not consuming the shell? It is as if the Four-Arms are doing the exact opposite of every other I have seen.

As I watch, they place more not-shell onto the injured Nothing-End-Dweller. Some of them are flailing their shiny things about at them. I can vaguely see more small pieces of not-shell in their grip.

My thoughts go in wild directions now. First, the communication with the Nothing-End-Dwellers, then the eggs, and now this. What does it all mean? How different are these others that exist outside the world from the ones who exist in it? What is an explanation for their behavior that makes sense?

Well, maybe the Nothing-End-Dwellers… control the Four-Arms, somehow. They seem to be aiding them in eating, growing, and breeding. But no other I have seen before required others of a different kind to grow. It just happens as they eat.

What if… it is the opposite, and the Four-Arms are in control? No, that can't be possible either, smaller others are ignored or eaten. I know that, try as I might to communicate. The fact that they seem to be stealing eggs from the large ones makes my original idea, that they worked together, very unlikely. No other would exist without the ability to eat or guard its offspring on its own.

Wait. No other would exist…

Oh! Is it possible that the Nothing-End-Dwellers… don't actually exist? That they are somehow birthed by the four-armed ones from parts of the Hard-End? That would explain all I have seen. They wouldn't even need to communicate with them, since they don't exist; they could just use the Nothing-End-Dwellers however they wanted, much as I use the world to move. But that would also imply that the Four-Arms birth things that have never existed!

I cannot see things that I have never seen before. Nor can I birth things other than offspring. I want desperately to understand how to do both.

I am now certain that these Four-Arms are far smarter than me, since they can do something so unprecedented. Surely, since they are so smart, they will know how to communicate with me if I approach them. To do so, I will have to leave my world for a bit. This scares me, but the new feeling urges me on regardless. I am done learning. Now, I act.

Returning to the part of the Third-End I first saw, I once again see the uninjured… thing the Four-Arms birthed. I do not have a word for them, so I will call them offspring, as that is closest.

I wait until they move back enough into the world for me to reach. The light of the world is gone again by this time. I wait, watching. Only when the bright light returns do the Four-Arms and their offspring come back.

They open the fin on their offspring's back again, and move towards me. Even though its motion makes me dizzy, I move up and up to the Nothing-End, further than I ever have before. I approach carefully. I do not want them to think I'm going to eat them, so I make my body light change to show my not-hunger. They are smarter than me, so they should be able to figure out I mean no harm.

I am right next to the offspring now. The Four-Arms are on top, in the nothing, so I have to pull myself up to let them see. Reaching out with my arms, I grab onto the offspring's not-shell. It is as hard as it looked. As I suspected, it does not struggle, since it does not exist.

Ignoring my body's protests, I drag myself out of the world. I… cannot describe the feeling of existing in nothing, but it is not pleasant, and I do not think I can stay for long. I can still see, though, which is good.

Soon, I am able to see the top of the offspring, as it rocks under my bulk. The Four-Arms are all moving about in different directions, many holding other things they probably birthed, I realize, some of which are shiny. Their mouths open and close seemingly at random. Perhaps they are thinking on what to do about my arrival.

I watch them. If they are communicating with me, I cannot tell. Their body lights are not changing at all. Am I not smart enough to understand? Do they communicate by touch instead? Some others do that, I think. I will try that.

I slowly reach one of my arms toward the closest of them. It moves further away, its own arms losing their grip on their offspring for a bit before it flees. Why? Is it afraid? Surely, they can tell from my size compared to theirs that if I wanted to consume them, I would have done so already.

I extend my arm even further towards it. However, suddenly, one of the Four-Arms with the tooth on its head points at me, and more light comes from it. It spits something bright at my arm.

There is pain. It hurts a lot, and I pull my arm back. The end of it is gone, no longer a part of my body. Whatever it spit had knocked it off. I tense up, my body reacting on its own.

Why did the Four-Arm do that? Does it think I'm going to consume it? Are they trying to communicate at all? They're smart, though, able to do what I can't! Maybe they have never seen another like me before. I will try again, despite the two types of hurt I am feeling. There are so many of them, surely one will realize what I am doing.

I reach out towards a different one, with another arm, in the same way as before. It opens its mouth and moves away. I watch the reactions of the Four-Arms. Many are also moving away now while opening their mouths. A few do not move at all, bunching up into themselves, or are tending to their offspring.

I am shocked when another Four-Arm, one with the head-tooth, makes more light. Suddenly, another tooth, bigger and shiny, abruptly moves though the nothingness and slams down into my arm.

The pain is worse now. I feel angry, angry at these Four-Arms. I should have expected them to fight me. No other has ever tried to communicate with me; it was just me communicating with them. Even though they are smarter than me, I had no reason to expect a different response.

It is only now that I realize how hungry I am. I have not eaten in a while.

Fine. If these others will not share their knowledge with me, or try to communicate, even though they should be able to, then I will give up this new feeling of not-hunger, as well as my want to be not-alone. This whole endeavor was pointless from the start. I will treat them in the same manner as I do all others of their size, exactly how my body wants. By eating them.

I change my body light to convey my rage, rage of being wrong, of being hurt by these Four-Arms. I tighten my grip on their offspring, feeling its not-shell bend and snap from my strength. In moments, it is ripped to pieces, and they move down in different directions. Some of the Four-Arms grab onto these not-shell bits, while some are pulled down into the world, as they cannot move without it. They flap their mouths some more, as their arm movements grow more random and pointless. A couple with fins try to move away into the nothingness, but I am faster, and snatch them back, dragging them down and into my mouth.

They are afraid. I would usually be hurt by this, knowing my communication efforts made them feel that way, but not anymore.

The Four-Arms that are now in the world keep trying to move, but cannot. I easily snap them up into my mouth and eat them. I know there are other groups at the Third-End, so I sate my anger and my hunger by consuming every last one that falls into the world. I eat and eat until I cannot eat anymore.

As soon as I am done, I leave, moving back to where I came from. It is not as strong anymore, but I am still angry, still hurt. I will remember this for as long as I exist. I will never try to communicate again, for now I know it is futile, regardless of how smart any others seem to be. They are all the same, whether they live in the world or not. I will only feel hunger, fear, and anger. I will never again move this far up, this far into the light, where the world is warm.

After a while, those thoughts fade from the forefront of my mind. I am back down below. I do not feel the not-hunger ever again. All is once again as it was.

It is dark, and I remain alone.

Comments

[Neece]

Damn. Life is tough for a kraken

[FanOfMostEverything]

A touching, tragic piece of xenofiction. My only issue is that I'm not sure where or how the narrator would get the term "sleep." Aside from that, very well done indeed. Thank you for it.

[Thought Prism]

7956018

*Sees that you are now following me*
*Grabs fainting couch*

[Lazy_]

Ineresting piece. You know why I like these sorts of fics since you brought me here, you shameless self-promoting sod. But yeah, pretty good. Have a thumbs up for the publicity you so desperately want.
media.tenor.co/images/5bedb481a5872240406b1c8b7302e36c/raw

[Lazy_]

7956018
The narrator likely deduced the concept from observation. Some marine creatures do sleep, and that makes them easier to prey on as the narrator states. Though it's implied the narrator does not sleep, it likely does not fully comprehend the state of being even though it knows it exists.