Speak Not Of The End Of The World

by Shaslan

Effervescence

Laotyn spread his surface mass wide, changing from his customary sphere to a more practical mass of tentacles that split, in turn, into airy tendrils that caught the currents of gas like sails and carried him up and away.

<<Greetings, sibling,>> said a passing person, the centre of their body flashing a friendly yellow. The warmth of the words and the thoughts, carried to Laotyn on a tide of gentle emissions, sank into his fluid like a draught of the purest, cleanest hydrogen sulfide.

<<Good winds to you, sibling!>> sang Laotyn in return. Orange and yellow pulsed through his whole mass, out from his core into the very tips of his tendrils. It was an unnecessary display, perhaps overly enthusiastic – but a day like today warranted optimism.

Laotyn was feeling on top of the world, and he wanted everyone to know it. Today was the day he finally got to enter the observation pods.

He arced around the central miasma chamber, his body undulating smoothly from current to current before he found the geyser he was searching for and clung to it, jetting upwards towards the observation deck. The vast open space of the central chamber yawned beneath him, thousands of cubits wide – almost an entire thirtieth of Home’s total mass, a measurement so large that it still made his mind spin. Colours pulsed softly from the sporeclouds below, pastel blue and soft shining pink, And the algae pools glistened subtle green in the very base of the chamber. Overhead the gas flowed thick and soupy, and people rode the currents in every direction. If Laotyn didn’t look too closely – if he tried not to notice the algae-bubble walls encasing the chamber on every side, protecting it from the vacuum of space – it almost felt like he was back on Home, living out one of the memories inherited from his ancestors.

The geyser increased in power as it neared the chamber’s ceiling, and Laotyn narrowed himself down to a pointed cone, tendrils spinning loose behind him. The seamless curve of the sphere’s edge sped closer and closer, and Laotyn braced himself before he burst through the clouds and impacted on the outer algae-mesh. It gave and stretched under the force of the geyser, but for a second Laotyn suffered the same frisson of fear he always did – that today would be the day the algae sphere failed him and he was splatted like a spore against it. But the technicians who had grown the Taelo had been experts, every millimeter precision-engineered. The transport geyser pointed directly at one of the few single-layer spots in the triple-layered walls of the central chamber and Laotyn’s sharp tip was more than enough to peirce through.

He was propelled up into a narrow cylindrical corridor, the walls pulsating with the same gentle green phosphorescence as all the rest of the ship. The burst of air that came through with him provided enough force to keep him going, and with a gentle exhalation he relaxed back into his usual amorphous form. The wind at his back, Laotyn flowed down the corridor. He was pulsing a hopeful amber, shot through with the white of excitement, and when another denizen of the ship passed in the other direction it was a struggle to tone himself down to a more acceptable level of saturation.

<<A big day, huh?>> they asked, umber amusement tinging their outer edges, and Laotyn flushed puce.

<<My first time in the observation pods,>> he explained.

The other person extended a tendril across the corridor to him, touching his body and sending a shot of camaraderie and support directly into his system. <<And my last,>> they said. <<You’ll do great.>>

<<Wait–>> called Laotyn, realising that this must be the observer he was replacing, but the current had already carried him past them, and they only waved a regretful tendril back at him.

And it was only as they squeezed through the access portal back into the central chamber that Laotyn caught sight of the telltale growths inside them. The grey-white spheres of new life. No wonder there had been a vacancy. That person was a nascent Parent, nearly ready for merging. This had been their last shift in the pods, and likely their last day altogether.

Merging was a magical process, a beautiful thing – but Laotyn was young, and the loss of individuality still seemed like a frightening prospect. He supposed that when he was older he might feel differently.

Boosted by fresh air from the miasma chamber after the other person’s passage, Laotyn’s pace picked up again, and he was carried around several more bends and loops before finally passing through the edge of another algae-sphere and spinning to a halt.

This sphere was much smaller, only double the size of the living quarters Laotyn’s wealthiest parent had left to him. A dozen little doorways perforated the outer wall, leading to the observation pods. The subtle colours of those within were just visible, and Laotyn’s whole surface itched with the urge to get in there and see it all for himself.

Someone was floating in the centre of the room, a relaxed circular disc, her tendrils fanning gently over the informational display in front of her. As Laotyn watched, she raised one in greeting.

<<Welcome to the observation deck,>> she said.

Laotyn felt himself swell with pride, inflating to fill as much space as he possibly could, throbbing red and amber with excitement. <<I’m Laotyn,>> he said. <<I’m the new observer.>>

Comments

[Bicyclette]

The other person extended a tendril across the corridor to him, touching his body and sending a shot of camaraderie and support directly into his system. <<And my last,>> they said. <<You’ll do great.>>

<<Wait–>> called Laotyn, realising that this must be the observer he was replacing, but the current had already carried him past them, and they only waved a regretful tendril back at him.

what a poignantly relatable moment in such an alien context

And it was only as they squeezed through the access portal back into the central chamber that Laotyn caught sight of the telltale growths inside them. The grey-white spheres of new life. No wonder there had been a vacancy. That person was a nascent Parent, nearly ready for merging. This had been their last shift in the pods, and likely their last day altogether.

Merging was a magical process, a beautiful thing – but Laotyn was young, and the loss of individuality still seemed like a frightening prospect. He supposed that when he was older he might feel differently.

and oof, what a different perspective such a life cycle would give this species about death

Laotyn felt himself swell with pride, inflating to fill as much space as he possibly could, throbbing red and amber with excitement. <<I’m Laotyn,>> he said. <<I’m the new observer.>>

wonderfully creative work here! amazing job immersing us in a truly alien species and culture in so few words