CHAPTER 4.0

“Director’s Cut” Ending

Copyright 2014 by Michael Siemsen and Fantome Publishing

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof.

Cover art by Andreas Raninger.

Connect with the author:

facebook.com/mcsiemsen * michaelsiemsen.com

twitter: @michaelsiemsen * mail@michaelsiemsen.com

4.0

Gotta pee.

Sounds outside the tent. Distorted echoes, heavy, shuffling feet, labored breathing—deep, fast, and everywhere. Hynka! Dozens of them! Where was Minnie’s MW? She couldn’t remember how she’d gone to sleep. How was she back here? Where was here? The Hynka couldn’t access the ice cave behind the waterfall. No, she left there … Was this her snow camp by the coast? Outside, getting louder, about to attack! She slipped her arm out of her survival bag and patted frantically around her.

“Hey, quit it,” the groggy voice beside her moaned. Aether.

Rain outside, and gusty wind, blasting over and between their Threck Country encampment’s porous, seaside rock walls.

“Sorry,” Minnie said, and rolled to face Aether’s back. She wrapped her arm over Aether’s side and belly, and tucked her hand between waist and bed cushion. Aether’s warmth soothed into Minnie’s cheek.

Was it nighttime? The tempshelter’s vinyx wall’s blocked all light, and they’d sealed the roll-up windows for the storm. Her fone was off, and would remain so until Pablo needed another biostat report from her. It was the only way she could continue this stretch of regenerative sleep. Even just a glimpse of her notifications count, the time, activity recommendations, or whatever else it was probably dying to tell her, would definitely keep her up for hours. Not that she wasn’t curious.

How long had they been back at the rally point encampment? Three days? Four? Minnie only recalled sliding out of this glorious bed a couple times, but she seemed to remember climbing in under the covers a dozen or more. And there were the brief outings strewn throughout the recent days: nodding off during conversations with Qin and Tom in the mess tent, falling asleep in a hammock tied between two of the EVs (ah yes, that was where she’d been sunburned), and an unexpected visit from a clan of Country Threck—or Farmers, as Aether had corrected, not Threck—who’d been told to deliver fresh food to the Syons People camp. In her head, all of it was quite murky, and her half-dreaming strolls to the toilet all seemed to overlap. She might’ve peed in here six times or thirty.

Half-awake pee breaks. Speaking of …

Careful not to disturb Aether again, she recovered her hand, inched away, and stealthily made her way out of bed. Her bare feet padded one step at a time on the soft floor mat as she waved her arms out as antennae, guiding her through the pitch black to the corner lavbox. The luxurious nature of an actual sit-down release had yet to lose its glory.

Back in bed, her mind drifted back to a mix of hallucination and lucid thought. The fungi cocktail Pablo was giving her for HSPD management had its surpluses and shortages. Fortunately, when she was up and about, the most powerful effects only came in quick, passing bursts a few times a day, after a dose. Though when lying down, she experienced a constant sinking feeling, trippy auditory effects, and brutal lethargy that made getting up feel like extracting herself from a concrete tomb—but perhaps the latter had more to do with her exhaustion. Thus the need to continue this extended rest.

Aether, too, had to catch up on sleep. Over the weeks it’d taken getting to the Hynka Country coast, and then roughly the same time back, she’d only caught the sporadic hour or two of fitful rest, and had eaten so little, Pablo thought she might’ve done some serious damage to herself.

Now, Pablo had Qin acting like a strict mom, nursing sick kids back to health. “You really need to eat this, all right?” and “I’m not leaving this room until I see half of that plate cleaned.”

Food would be nice, Minnie thought as she drifted back to sleep. Just no more of those boiled purple roots that taste like pickled anus.

* * *

Inundated woodash bulbs, like teal pumpkins with fragile, rose petal-like shells, littered the encampment area, and exhaled a constant steam flow. Combined with the misting soil, the entire cliff shelf was an unwelcome foggy sauna this morning. The team’s new home, 800K northeast, offered much more temperate, human-friendly conditions, and would be ready for move-in in less than two weeks—an extraordinary six weeks early. Sadly, Tom would not be joining them. At least not for some time.

“Is it me?” Minnie asked him with a facetious pout. “Do I still smell?”

Standing beside a skimmer, Tom returned only a faint smile as his tired eyes seemed to track a nonexistent fly around Minnie’s head. He tightened his pack around his shoulders and patted his suit’s many pockets in search of forgotten items. Or he didn’t know what to do with his hands, or how to respond.

Minnie had never been very good with “getting real.” Tom was a simmering vat of misery and all she could think to do was distract him, try to lighten the mood, pretend this was all business as usual. While she’d always thought they were close friends, they’d really only been close work friends, hadn’t they? There’d never been any true intimacy between them. 80% banter and jokes, 19.9% professional interaction, and then that one awkward episode in the showers that, for seven years now, neither had—or ever would—acknowledge.

“Hey,” she said solemnly, and stepped up on the skimmer pad to reduce their height disparity. “Come here.”

He caught where she was going and knit his brow. “You don’t have to …” He waved off the sympathy as unnecessary, and peered around in search of Aether. He’d already said his goodbyes to Qin.

Without knowing how long he’d be gone, she couldn’t let this wait. “No, come here, you. This isn’t just for you. I loved her, too—still love her. I … I don’t even know how to be with this. So, please …” She stretched out her arms and motioned him in.

He blinked and finally looked at her eyes, his chest rising in quick little starts. She nodded, and Tom lowered his head, shuffling into her arms. Minnie slid her hands in between his pack and back, burying her face into his neck.

“She loved you so much,” she babbled against him. “You were her everything. I don’t know how … I mean, I can only imagine the pain in here. When I thought you were all gone …”

He wasn’t making any sound, but she felt his whole body quaking. She thought of John—nearly mentioned him—but thought better of it. No one, not even Aether, would understand Minnie’s despair over John. It was her own, and would remain so. As with Tom’s love for Angela, Minnie could never truly get that, either.

Tom’s grief—a violent, sentient substance—seemed to seep through his neck pores, and drilled tiny holes into Minnie’s skull.

She wept, “I wish I could just cut out the hurt and take it on for you,” and a small, wounded peep escaped Tom.

They stood there quietly for another minute, both bodies relaxing a little, and then a little more. Minnie found her face soaked with tears and more. She’d also drenched Tom’s neck and whatever top he had on beneath his suit.

She pulled back and peered up at his face. “I snotted all over you.”

“It’s all right,” he replied. “Mine is in your hair.”

They exchanged pained smiles, and a new, connected sort of look they’d never before shared. “You better come back, dammit. I need you. You mean more to me than … than I’ve probably ever let on.”

His eyes wandered again. “I’ll be back, Minnie. I just need some time on my own. Aether thought it’d be a good idea, too.” He wiped his face on his sleeve. “Here she comes.”

Minnie glanced toward the kitchen tent, spotting Aether striding toward them through the steam mist like some bad ass action hero. “Holy crap, I gotta slomo that.” She turned back to Tom. “You’re going to live with the farmers. How is that ‘on your own?’”

“They’re, uh, not the sharpest bunch. Too much chlorine in the gene pool.”

“Whoa! Chlorine in the gene pool … Did you just pull that masterpiece out of your ass?”

He smirked and shrugged. “Nah. That was Angela’s.”

Minnie sighed. “Hm … well.”

“We ready to fly?” Aether asked as she approached. Minnie and Tom nodded. Aether set her hands on Tom’s shoulders, inspecting his suit like a son going off to college. “You sure you have everything you need, honey? Comms?”

“If you prefer, I can lie this time and say I’m bringing comms.”

Balancing on her boot tips, Aether kissed Tom’s cheek. “Hush. All I’m saying is if we don’t see or hear from you in ninety days, expect a check-in.”

Minnie powered up the skimmer and Tom climbed on with her. Behind them, Aether mounted her own.

MINNIE: I’ll follow you.

AETHER: I haven’t been there either.

MINNIE: Mapping it is.

AETHER: After we drop Tom, right?

Oh yeah.

She looked at Tom beside her, his gloved hands wrapped around the grab bar. “You want me to drop you at a specific farm?”

“I’m hiking in. Just follow Mapping to the new site and we’ll find a good spot along the way without diverting.”

“That’s a lot of hiking,” Minnie replied.

“That’s the plan.”

She cranked the lift grip, sending electrostatic force blasting the surrounding steam outward, and the skimmer shot upward from the encampment much faster than her squishy senses immediately perceived. 300m up, she cut the lift. Negative g woozed her head more than it already was, while her guts floated up into her chest.

“Wow,” Tom choked as he linked a safety cable to his suit.

“Sorry. Meds.” She held the skimmer there, waiting for Aether to catch up.

“You know, I can probably just walk it from here.”

The snarkster Minnie treasured was still very much alive in there.

Aether floated up beside them wearing the expression Minnie expected.

AETHER: WTH was that?

MINNIE: Some sort of anomalous ionic interaction with the steam. Let’s do this!

Minnie zoomed off northeastward as she opened a new M to Qin.

MINNIE: See you in 2 days, buddy! Don’t burn down the camp while we’re gone!

QIN: Now you tell me.

* * *

After dropping off Tom, Minnie and Aether paired their skimmers and chatted for much of the remaining hours to the permanent settlement. The dimpled fangs of Threck Country’s thin alpine mountain range streaked by below, signaling the final countdown to arrival, so Aether took the helm, allowing Minnie focus time for reviewing her scripts.

A week earlier, Dowfwoss Unhkte, head of the Thinkers, set out with one of the supply convoys from the city, and was expected to arrive at “Syons City” this afternoon. During her scarce waking hours the past few days, Minnie had been rehearsing and refining what she’d say to Unhkte, plotting out layers and layers of branching threads depending on responses. It was strange relying on Aether’s Threck expertise, but her input continued to prove eye-opening and essential.

Minnie’s scratchnote list titled My Bonehead Misses and F-ups expanded each day. She was embarrassed, angry at herself, frustrated, and—when she didn’t fight it—felt more than a little responsible for the tragedies that occurred prior to her arrival. Ish might’ve set the disaster ball in motion, but Minnie was pretty sure it’d rolled into her own blame court shortly thereafter. “Sea Threck,” political structures, key phrases and gestures, “Country Threck,” the nursery, and of course, most decisive of all: Threck evolution and kee.

Despite her own touted best practices and her obsession with scientific self-awareness, she’d fallen into the age-old trap of confirmatory memory. “Kee seems to be a prefix and suffix denoting age, like preteen and teenager. Looks like pretty standard elements of a rite of passage out there in the woods … Done. Facts!” What path might her research have taken had she deepened her focus on the keepock circle, and the nursery, and what they did with Sootskee who failed to pass conditioning? Evac protocol would’ve emphasized staying the hell away from Sea Threck, that’s for sure. But it wasn’t as though Aether and Qin had much choice when they landed …

It was exhausting to think about, and she eventually dismissed her every conclusion as self-soothing, self-punishment, or impossible to predict.

Aether steered the skimmers over the final chain of foothills, and Minnie spotted to her left the snaking Threck convoy marching and rolling over a recently established road. Dowfwoss Unhkte, and Minnie’s formal introduction to the Thinkers, drew nearer still—a fantasy encounter she’d never expected fulfilled.

She tapped Aether’s hand, and pointed to the distant caravan. Aether looked, nodded, and then directed Minnie’s eyes forward, to the road’s eventual end.

“Eff me,” Minnie breathed. “How …?”

Ahead, the lowland’s fuchsia and teal fungle came to an end where the shimmering ocean began, speckled whitecaps stretching off and fading toward the pronounced curvature of Epsy’s horizon. But Aether and Minnie perceived only the astonishing scene at the two panoramas’ meeting, where immense cream-colored structures emerged from the landscape.

As Aether descended for final approach, fine details rendered across the buildings, materials, and terrain. Slowing to land in an adjacent clearing, Minnie observed the Threck laborers busy at work, blurs of tentacles scurrying every which way. Their bodies moved with incredible speed, as if time had sped up by a factor of four. Teams of Makers linked to each other, forming ladders up the high stone walls, continuing a body chain that led all the way to a rock quarry across the dirt field. Large, prepared cubes coursed effortlessly down the line and up the walls, as Threck at the top joined with a separate procession, preparing and applying mortar between each block. It was no wonder the facilities superstructures appeared nearly complete.

Aether and Minnie left the skimmers behind, and strode across the freshly leveled field. The copper-toned topsoil smelled rich and fertile, a perfect foundation for the team’s future farm.

“Are you not awed by this?” Minnie asked.

“Oh, I’m awed,” Aether replied, “but not surprised. Makers are chosen for their tireless, self-driven natures. Believe it or not, every one of these laborers actually enjoys their work, and they’re perfectionists. If something turned out to be wrong, like a misplaced brick at the bottom, they’d say ‘let’s tear it down and start again,’ and everyone would agree, jumping right on it. I can’t necessarily say the same of some of the other groups, but the cultures definitely appear to fit the roles. The council, for example. Evidently, gridlock is the optimal state for any governing body in the Galaxy.”

Pablo waved from atop a debris hill at the end of the largest building (no doubt the future petroleum jelly production facility), and a direct connect request appeared in Minnie’s fone. She accepted, and an M instantly popped up.

PABLO: Come around this way, please. Need a quick word before you see Zisa.

As they neared the lines and general bustle of Makers and Materials workers, individual laborers zipped by the pair without a sideways glance or acknowledgement, but even in the thickest body chaos, Minnie felt not a single tentacle graze her shoulder.

“What now?” Aether said when they reached the Threck chain conveying blocks from the quarry.

“Attention, please,” Minnie called out in Threck.

Eyes hid and ogled, but the well-choreographed procession of massive cubes didn’t slow a bit, each piece’s heft always supported by three arms at any given point.

PABLO: Sorry, just keep walking, they’ll work around you. You don’t have to say anything.

Minnie peered between the whipping arms, and caught sight of a beckoning Pablo a short distance away. She shared a skeptical look with Aether.

“How’s that sound to you, love?” Aether motioned to the Makers. “This … working around you.”

“Kind of seems like jumping between linked train cars. Each one of those blocks must be at least one hundred kilos.”

Pablo suddenly appeared just beyond the line. “Watch me!”

He proceeded forward at a swift pace, and the nearest Threck instantly alerted the area.

LIVETRANS: Going up!

LIVETRANS: All up! Up with it!

LIVETRANS: Higher! Good! Clear!

Two of the laborers spread apart, creating a wide gap for Pablo, while two other helpers left the line and joined them at their sides—all four now maintaining the flow of stone slabs, now over a living bridge. Pablo walked right under without slowing, and took Aether’s hand.

“Come on,” he said with a grin. “Cool, right?”

Minnie followed them under the animated tentacle arch, and watched the workers return to their normal column.

Cool, sure, but was it right? It seemed jerkish, even if the Threck offered no negative reactions.

She paused on the other side and called out to them, “Thank you!” receiving only a couple glances.

She quickstepped to catch up with Aether and Pablo, on their way to the end of the last building.

Pablo halted and turned to them both, pointing down the row of structures. “PJ production and packaging here, the one-story after is the research labs, some storage, my sick bay, and I think an attached guest quarters, but she might’ve moved that to the side of our personal apartment building, which is the other two-story you see at the end there. And …” he nudged them a few steps to the right until a fourth structure in the distance came into view, nestled in beneath a pink foliage overhang, “that is the kitchen and dining facility, which she insists on calling the ‘mess hall’. Oh, and that’s only half of the frame. There’ll be a big pergola extending out the front with plenty of outdoor seating. She wants to be sure we can accommodate larger visitor groups.”

“This is fantastic,” Aether said. “I just hope their leaders don’t feel that Zisa’s overstepping. The original agreement was for two structures.”

He laughed. “It was the leader’s idea! The top one, Artsh. She asked Zees where food preparation would take place. Zees tells her in our living building. Artsh goes ‘You can’t do that. Where shall we construct a separate food facility?’ And you know Zees … ‘Are you sure? We really don’t want to put you out …’”

“Well, fantastic,” Aether said. “It looks like everyone has gone far above and beyond what I would’ve ever imagined.”

“So where is she?” Minnie asked Pablo. “You know I haven’t seen her since the station.”

Pablo furrowed his brow and huddled in close to Minnie. “Right, yes, that’s the thing. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about before you head around to the front.”

“What? What’d I do?”

“No, nothing yet!” Pablo laughed nervously. “A little request is all! Just from me to you—she didn’t say a word, trust me.”

Minnie glared at him. “‘Blo, you better say something before I—”

“Yeah yeah, see, I’m just saying—asking, I’m just asking—that you not make fun of her at all when you see her.”

Zisa’s PA boomed Livetrans somewhere around the corner. “Eetensa! Sheh shoosh paykoss!”

Minnie shook her head, a bit hurt. “I won’t, okay.” She moved to follow Zisa’s PA-borne Threck voice, but Pablo put up his hands.

He blurted, “You know, not even in a playful ribbing kind of way. No backhanded compliments, or a quick look at me or Aether. She’ll catch it.”

Minnie’s mouth hung open. “You think …? Seriously, Pab, am I that horrible of a person?”

He screwed up his face. “Of course not! No way! It’s just, she’s kind of like Zisa-times-three right now with the triple dose of estrogen. And … she had this idea … Just please don’t say anything, I’m begging you. Don’t even acknowledge it.”

Minnie shared a look with Aether (who appeared equally perplexed), and then brushed past Pablo to finally see Zisa.

“Like that look just then,” Pablo called after her. “None of that!”

Minnie rounded the corner and spotted Zisa up on a scaffolding platform a dozen meters away from the production building front. Her PA called more instructions to unseen workers on the roof, while she performed all of the associated gestures—and extremely well. Zisa was the dancer/gymnast of the group, but Minnie was no less shocked to see how gracefully she twisted and posed, even drawing a leg up behind her shoulder for a tense modifier that Minnie wouldn’t even half-attempt on an empty stomach.

And then Minnie spotted what had Pablo in such a panic. Zisa had on some sort of prosthetic tentacles. Blue-green material began at her shoulders, tapered down her hidden arms, and extended down another full arm-length to her ankles. When she used her arms for a gesture, the fake tentacles whipped outward and trailed her arms, as one would expect.

“Zees!” Minnie called, and Pablo murmured close behind her.

“Begging you, Min …”

Zisa snapped out of her zone, dropping her enhanced arms to her sides, scanned … scanned, and spotted Minnie. Her eyes widened as hidden hands flew up to cover her mouth. “Omigod!”

Minnie grinned and ran toward the platform while Zisa made her way down a wide ladder on the far side. They met at the ladder’s base and embraced, high-pitched squeals from both women.

Zisa bounced up and down for a second until Minnie stopped her. “Whoa there, easybake. No snow-globing the baby!”

They stepped back from each other, Zisa’s chalk blue eyes alight. “Oops, yeah … So you heard.”

“I heard.” Minnie smiled wide and tenderly. “So happy for you. And you thought you’d never have one of those things!”

Zisa nodded. “Exactly! Or one of those!” She pointed to Pablo as he and Aether walked up, Zisa’s tentacle flapping out and swinging around to whip her elbow. Suddenly remembering the faux appendage, she stuttered, “I … I made them out of some sheets … You know how some of the plurals require—”

“Yes, I do,” Minnie replied. “And you’re an effing genius! Are they velcroed at the shoulders?”

Uncertain, Zisa peeled back the top of one, revealing the Velcro.

“Like I said,” Minnie enthused, “brilliant.”

“I know they look loonish, but it really helps with comprehension, especially from a distance and when it’s too noisy.”

“I bet! Now you’re on the hook to make me a set. And maybe when you’re feeling extra frisky, you can design a pair with actuated mini-joints that link to Livetrans. I’m sure the EVs have enough parts you can salvage.”

“O-M-G, I was totally thinking about that!” Zisa peeked over Minnie’s head. “Hang on a sec.” She composed something in Livetrans and sent it through her PA. Apparently, the workers on the roof were about to seal off a ventilation port. She hugged Minnie once more. “Sorry, I have to get back up there. They’re super fast and efficient, but get caught up in patterns. And my basic design maps make zero sense to them, so everything’s gotta be verbal.”

Minnie let her go, turned, and squinted at Pablo. He mouthed “Thank you,” and Minnie sighed. She still had work ahead of her, undoing a decade of bad behavior. Hopefully, with time, perceptions would evolve with her.

She walked with Aether alongside the building fronts, peering into open window spaces.

“That was great back there,” Aether said. “I’m sure it meant a lot to her.”

“Yeah, well, it was genuine. I wasn’t just blowing smoke to make her feel good, or because Pablo asked me to be nice. Believe it or not, I actually missed her, and I actually appreciated her ideas.”

“I know,” Aether said. “And when I applaud you, it isn’t a comparison to or condemnation of past incidents. I think you’re carrying a mountain of guilt. We’ll work on that—together if you’re willing—just try not to project your internal judgment onto others.”

“Mm-hmm. I didn’t see Pablo begging you not to abuse his woman.”

“That’s because I only make fun of you. The rest of you have always had that jabbing-jibing repartee. I guarantee he’ll say the same thing to Qin and, eventually, Tom.”

Minnie hoped this was true. Her rearview mirror was indeed a bit concave at the moment, and every moment she recalled was mortifying. Regardless, she planned to embrace the very best parts of John in her future communications, and she was sickened by the very idea of exuding a hint of negativity to any member of her tiny, surviving family.

Threck voices from the roofs called out, announcing the supply convoy’s arrival at the site. Workers from the Materials group streamed from the crowds, and headed toward the road.

Aether eyed Minnie. “You ready?”

“I’ve been ready for this moment since …” Minnie counted silently on her fingers. “… Nope. Still not ready.”

* * *

Loaded carts and marching Threck filled the clearings on either side of the road’s end, with still more flowing into the site. Aether and Minnie waited near Pablo’s debris pile as a passenger cart split off from the convoy, and headed toward them. Minnie spotted three of the six-or-more passengers wearing the Thinkers’ signature garb.

“Which one is Unhkte?”

“Can’t say yet,” Aether replied. “I should be able to tell after they get out.”

Minnie skimmed through her opening statement one more time. She wondered how the head of the Thinkers would react to a human fluently speaking the language without Livetrans.

“In the middle,” Aether murmured. “That’s Unhkte.”

“And the other two?”

“Not sure.” Aether stepped forward as the three Thinkers approached.

Minnie trailed a pace behind her, just as the other two with Unhkte hung back at her sides.

Aether greeted them via Livetrans. “Welcome to Syons City.”

“Thank you, Aether,” Unhkte replied with formal flourish. “Are you satisfied with the pace of construction?”

“More than satisfied. We wouldn’t have expected this amount of progress in ten times as many days.” Unhkte’s eyes rotated to Minnie, and Aether stepped back. “Dowfwoss Unhkte, I’m pleased to introduce you to Minnie, a very special Syons People who is here thanks to your benevolence.”

The other two Thinkers eye-hid in sync, but Unhkte only fixed her gaze on Minnie and moved closer to her. “Thanks not to benevolence,” Unhkte said as she perused Minnie’s neck, chin, ears, hair, and facial features. “Persistence and astuteness. It’s Aether who’s deserving of thanks. Peaceful greetings, Minnie.”

Minnie inhaled, relaxed her limbs, and proceeded without Livetrans. “Peaceful greetings to you, Dowfwoss Unhkte. My impassioned respect and admiration for you and every Thinker is only surpassed by my eternal gratitude for your aid. Like the members of your group, I study the underlying philosoph—”

Unhkte bowed her head forward and dipped her eyes just short of an actual hide—the Threck equivalent of raising a finger and saying “Hold that thought.”

“Your words are warm,” Unhkte said, “and your phrasing remarkable—admittedly superior to my own. However, the grating tenor of your vocalizations inspires only anguish and repulsion.” She turned and consulted with her colleagues. Both expressed emphatic agreement.

“The sounds make me anxious,” said one.

“I wish to hear more,” the other concurred, “but never again in that way.”

Minnie felt she might at any second explode with either vomit or laughter, and Aether’s utter silence beside her only made it worse. Minnie refused to look at her. There was no expression Aether could be wearing that wouldn’t send Minnie into a gigglefest.

Unhkte addressed Minnie again. “Are you able to use garb to speak, as Aether and the other Syons People do?”

She’d already activated her suit’s PA, and opened Livetrans. “Yes, I can. My apologies for any damage to auditory receptacles. Better?”

Enthusiastic agreement from her audience.

“Significantly,” Unhkte confirmed, and then instructed her associates to continue on to their tasks. After they’d left earshot, she continued, “Please, resume your lecture. Devoid of the punishing shrieks, your introduction portends stimulating and enjoyable discourse.”

“Dowfwoss,” Aether said before Minnie could respond. “I, too, have tasks to perform. Is it acceptable that I leave you two to your dialog?”

MINNIE: Abandoning ship before I further shame our species?

“This is acceptable,” Unhkte replied.

Aether turned to Minnie. “No rush. I’ll see you in a bit.”

AETHER: You’ll do amazing now, my love. Jumping off before you two shame my intelligence. Winks n kisses.

Minnie and Unhkte strolled away from the hubbub while Minnie repeated her introduction, continuing all the way through her comparison of several Earth philosophers, and their ideas, to notable Threck precepts. Riveted, Unhkte shared updates to many of the theories Minnie had brought up—Thinker concepts having expanded and merged since Minnie’s most recent data.

It wasn’t lost on Minnie, the fact that she had to draw parallels from over 3,000 years of human philosophy to only 159 Epsy years. Less than that! The Thinkers wouldn’t have been around in those early years, when Eshkowoss Peekt was raising the first generations of young Threck.

“How long have there been Thinkers?” Minnie asked.

“Formally?”

Minnie signed affirmative.

“Ninety-two.”

Ninety-two years! Where will they be in another century?

Unhkte halted where leveled soil met the beach sand. “This is irregular pace from your reference point, is it not? Tom and Aether appeared concerned upon learning of our civilization’s maturity.”

“No, not concerned. Surprised. And, yes, it’s been highly accelerated compared to my people’s pace.” Minnie nodded skyward.

“You are from the stars.”

Oops.

Minnie floundered, “We’re from … a great distance away.”

“Indeed. No greater distance than the stars. I wonder … Syons People could see us from the stars, yet we study the stars for years and see only the pattern map. If it was night, could you look up and see your home right now?”

“No,” Minnie said. “Our home was destroyed. It no longer exists.”

“I see,” Unhkte signed, and then gazed off to the construction flurry and the parked skimmers. After a quiet moment she spoke again, but with a peculiar, deliberate cadence. “We have much to learn from you.”

Minnie didn’t respond right away. She didn’t wish to think about Epsy’s human population’s expiration date. The Threck council worried about Syons People eventually spreading across their land, but this seemed an unlikely future. Perhaps Zisa and Pablo’s child would be joined by another Epsy-born human … from somewhere, and then those two would have children. But then what?

Unhkte went on, “I don’t refer to your technology, if you are concerned. Threck are curious about that which we don’t understand, but we are also wary of those things we did not ourselves create. No, I refer to your moderation, your pace.”

“You think your people need to slow down?”

“Absolutely. Observe those Makers, moving like the unhindered river. They will have your facilities completed in two more days, at the most. And then they will move on to the next project—the next bend in the river—and then the next, but to what end? Every watercourse either splits, spreads, and fades away, disappearing into the soil, or it flows to its inevitable end, and merges into the ocean, no longer a river at all.”

“This is fitting analogy for Syons People, too. We’re this tiny creek, split off from a great river, and we will, indeed, disappear into your soil.”

“Your appropriation of my analogy is much more disturbing than its intended meaning.”

“Apologies. You made me think of time and the importance of pace. Perhaps Syons People can further slow our pace, extending our time here.”

Humanity’s clock on Epsilon C might’ve been ticking away, but every moment Minnie lived now felt like a bonus, extended-play extra life. And her team—her family—were only refugees here. It wasn’t as though they were Earth’s last survivors, and trying to reestablish the species.

Minnie’s body buzzed, suddenly finding herself vividly present in this moment, savoring every word they shared, every thought inspired, as well as other sensory input, from the ocean’s scent, to the translucency and texture of Unhkte’s skin. The nagging itch behind her ear where cellcream was busy finalizing Pablo’s repair job. Resounding pings and tinks from the quarry. Zisa’s PA relaying instructions in the distance. Aether—somewhere nearby, safe, and apparently in love with Minnie, despite the contrary wisdom of imaginary voices. And this new friend, Unhkte, with whom she foresaw decades of inspiring conversation. She was hopeful and curious about how long such a relationship would last, and if she’d one day realize, in the middle of such a discussion, that the point had just then been reached where Unhkte and her people surpassed two million years of human evolution.

“I wonder,” Unhkte said, “if some time we could speak again like this.”

Minnie grinned. “I was wondering the same thing.”

“I wonder if we could continue speaking right now.”

“I’m free until supper,” Minnie said, and glanced back at the sun. “Ten gaps, at least.”

She motioned behind Unhkte to a pair of rounded-top rocks. A moment later, she sat down on one of the rocks and watched as Unhkte draped her cloak over the other, coiling her legs beneath her to match Minnie’s seated height.

Unhkte faced Minnie and said, “One’s time is their greatest gift to another.”

Minnie replied, “Well then I thank you for this gift.”

*

Epilogue

Magnified through a biotherm optic, a parasitic worm clings to a brain’s limbic cortex, two rows of tiny barbed appendages anchoring the creature to the organ. When the host moves, the parasite writhes subtly. A horror scene.

Zooming out from the brain, outside the host creature’s body cavity, sits an intelligent lifeform—a distinguished member of her society and the head of her civilization’s revered assembly of philosophers—gazing with wonder at a rapidly growing construction site, a symbol of her people’s incredible progress. A scene of accelerated evolution.

Floating upward to a bird’s-eye view, the leader exchanges ideas with another intelligent lifeform—a distinguished member of a different society, recently rescued from a dangerous land. A scene of peace, optimism, and potential.

Zooming out again, beyond the bustling construction site, and across an ocean to another land, the view descends on a shaded patch of coastal vegetation, and a frenzied pack of massive predators ripping plants from the soil. As they claw at the entrance to their prey’s burrow, a red cloud of disturbed fungus spores drifts about, sticking to the beasts’ mouths, and flowing into their windpipes. Another scene of potential.

And finally, zooming out once more, past the clouds, past an orbiting debris field in the thermosphere, the planet shrinks from a globe, to a ball, to a speck, to nothing. Zooming out farther still, farther, and further.

Acknowledgements

Editing services provided by the keen intellect of Kristina Circelli from Red Road Editing. As always, these stories would be nothing without my growing list of amazing beta readers: Alyssa W, Angela P, Bill H, Bill R, DeeDee B, Eric D, Jessica B, Joe S, Karen L, Laura B, Laurie J, Lori W, Pascal B, Scott K, Stacey L, Venture C, and Vicky W—thank you all! Thank you to Audrey Collins for her probably accurate suggestion of a potential future for popular music. Andreas Raninger and Matthias de Muylder for their brilliant concept art, releasing the stuff in my head, and making it all real. Further thanks must be flung to Hugh Howey, John Chiu, Mary Roach, Jon Reiner, Eugene Mallove, Gregory Matloff, Kevin Fong, M.D., everyone else who took the time to answer one or more of my silly questions over the past two years, and, of course, my wife, Ana, for all she does, and all she puts up with.

Cover art by the brilliant Andreas Raninger.

About the Author

Michael Siemsen lives in Northern California with his wife, three kids, dog Brody, cat Atom, several fish, two chupacabrii, and one pesky demon. He continues, as we speak, to spill his guts for your entertainment.

Connect:

facebook.com/mcsiemsen

michaelsiemsen.com

twitter: @michaelsiemsen

mail@michaelsiemsen.com

Also by Michael Siemsen:

A Warm Place to Call Home (a demon’s story)

The Many Lives of Samuel Beauchamp (a demon’s story)

The Dig (Book 1 of the Matt Turner Series)

The Opal (Book 2 of the Matt Turner Series)

Return (Book 3 of the Matt Turner Series)

TOC

- CHAPTER 4.0

- 4.0

- Epilogue

- Acknowledgements

- About the Author