Chapter 1: The First and The Last

Research Log, Day 0

“When the priests came for my work I nearly lost everything I’d ever worked toward. I found myself reminded of the day I was told my mother had died in the war. My parents were old when they had me, so I was still a child when she was drafted. I sometimes thought about the day the priests came to tell me and my father that she was dead, but the intense feeling had faded over time.

“But the loss of my work felt that same way. It was like losing my mother all over again. I’d begun this project to create a world where deaths like my mother’s would be unnecessary. It was my way of finally saving her, though far too late.

“And the Drol’s priests came to take that from me.”

Nineteen Years Ago.

Ekivia watched in horror as her life’s work was ripped out from under her. Not a week ago she’d been on top of the world, today she was in hell beneath it.

She was Drolite, iron skinned with ever-changing patterns of rust orange slightly tinting the grey, her head painted with a muted purple pattern. She was tall not only for a nawo but for any diordna, at a little under two meters. Her blue lab coat was unbuttoned today, hanging halfway down her shins, and she had her bag slung over he shoulder. Her eyes were normally clear, as she wasn’t often emotional, though recently here in the lab they’d been blue with pleasure sight at seeing the fruits of her long work. But today they were neither clear nor blue.

They’d had a lucrative contract with the military, even the Drol himself was interested in their work. Her invention would change the world, would change how war was waged, would give the iron nation an advantage over the Verds. And when all was said and done she’d have enough saved to retire for a few years before she was drafted and sent to that war.

Last week they sent their progress report, yesterday a general had arrived and inspected her creations, two future soldiers that would replace two Drolites in battle. Two lives saved in exchange for a pair of intelligent animals. She expected when they grew they’d be nearly as intelligent as a diordna, if not exactly so, and she’d told the general as much when he looked the infants over. She nearly told them about the next one she was working on, but she hadn’t even injected the ape mother to start the process and didn’t want to get their hopes up. But she’d refined the sequences after several failed attempts and these two successes.

She would make an animal that looked like a diordna and was equally intelligent. Everything she’d done before, from the minuscule “vet grubs” to improve survival rates in transportation and labor animals, to “calling birds” that allowed for long-distance communication without connection to a neural line, all culminated in this final work. Her masterpiece.

Today twenty priests were taking it to be destroyed.

Her eyes swirled with black and red, sorrow- and anger-sight so thick she struggled to see through it and droplets overflowed, dark blood-like trails down her iron-grey cheeks, leaving lines through parts of the orange rust color that swirled and wove patterns across her face where the tears passed. They said the project was blasphemy, that in attempting to make a new kind of diordna she was attempting to supplant Dytie himself. But that wasn’t true, not more so than having a child was supplanting their god. The power was given to them by Dytie, and so was their intelligence. If she could make an animal diordna then was it not Dytie who had given that ability in the first place? But they would not hear her. She wanted to shout, to fight, to resist the priests, but one did not oppose the will of Dytie’s Chosen or his servants. To do so was to oppose Dytie himself.

So she stood, watching them file in and out of the lab, books worth of paper notes and several parrots that could store and recall research logs. They’d even searched the satchel hanging from her shoulder, taking anything they thought might pertain to her work. She’d spent more time in this room than at home for the last two decades, and she’d loved it. The building was grown from a single story of bamboo, like most modern structures, then plastered over on the inside to smooth the floor and wall branches. The tables were similarly grown, though from squat bushes that were carefully cultivated to achieve the desired strength, their branches woven together to create a sturdy tabletop, then their roots grown through the floor for strong legs and base. It was all very modern and she liked the aesthetic.

The only furniture built in the old fashion, using stone tools to cut and carve wood rather than growing it to the desired shape, was the small basket-like beds that held the animal babies. Now empty.

A priest rushed past her, stuffing one of her parrots into a sack, and she stood almost a head taller than the na. She was taller than most nawo, and many na. When she was younger it had made her feel out of place, sticking out above everyone else. In recent years it had made her feel strong, powerful, recognizable, proud. Today she felt like her younger self again. Powerless. Exposed.

She looked around the room as it continued to empty, rubbing her eyes to clear them a little. And on one of the countertops grown out of the wall, she saw a gourd box, a little larger than her fist, with a flat bottom so it could sit flat, and her heart leaped. There were numerous like it, used for holding all kinds of things. Tools. Samples taken from different animals to be studied or sent out for DNA duplication. Or, in this case, bees with four-inch stingers, designed to inject the code-altering substance directly into the uterus of a pregnant animal.

She walked over to it, trying not to draw the attention of the priests. She had to be sure, had to know if this was the gourd that held her most recent batch of bees. She leaned on the counter with both hands, hunching her shoulders, trying to appear exhausted and overcome by emotion. The numbers marking the top of the gourd were the right ones, and she thought she could hear short buzzes from inside.

She glanced around the room to be sure no one was watching her. At the moment there were only three priests in the room, collecting notes and equipment on the other side of the room. She wouldn’t have a better chance than this, so she quickly opened her bag and swept the gourd off the counter, trying to cover her actions with her body and lab coat. She glanced around again, heart thumping, white fear blending with the other colors in her eyes.

And met eyes with one of her assistants who was staring at her. The nawo had seen. Her heart sank, and she looked pleadingly at the nawo. But instead of calling one of the priests the assistant nodded subtly to Ekivia.

With a sigh, she decided it was time to leave in case the priests decided to search her bag again. She tried to suppress the fear in her eyes so they wouldn’t make anyone suspicious and found herself praying that Dytie would protect her and the small piece of her work she was trying to save. Even as she did it she thought her prayer was silly. These were Dytie’s priests, sent by Drol Maharba, Dytie’s Chosen himself. Dytie wouldn’t help her when they were doing His will.

Still, she had to try. So she walked through the room and past the priests, down the hall with its woven bamboo walls, praying the whole way and trying not to meet the eyes of the priests she passed. She reached the street without incident, walked down the block away from the cart filled with her work to be destroyed, then stuck out her arm to call a ride. She glanced nervously back the way she’d come, but no one followed.

“Where you headed?” A voice asked, startling her.

“Out of town about an hour east,” Ekivia said to the driver. He sat in a saddle on a large dog with wolf-like features that was tied by a harness to the three-passenger cart, painted red to identify it as transport for hire and not private use. The creatures were bred for pulling carts, called a Tug, and although cart travel was a little slower than simply riding your own canine or feline mount, it was the only option Ekivia had. She’d intended to get a cat eventually, once she retired. Which she supposed she was doing right now. The tug was black and brown on top with a white underbelly and face, like it was wearing a mask that ran all the way down its body. A common pattern for the creatures.

“That’s going to be expensive,” The driver said.

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“I understand,” Ekivia said. “I can pay.”

“Alright then.”

They rode out of town, the driver trying to chat with her over his shoulder, but Ekivia was too preoccupied, waiting for… something to make this day worse. But nothing happened. No soldiers or police or priests stopped her cart, and when she arrived at her isolated home no one waited for her. She paid the driver an exorbitant number of shells and sent him on his way before stepping inside and closing the door. She walked deeper into the house, running her hand along the small round table grown from the center of the entrance hall then continued up the stairs.

She’d designed this house herself, though she wasn’t an architect. On the outside, it was a boring two-story cube as a result of her inexperience and penchant for functionality over aesthetics. Even in her animal creations, her prototypes were often dull colors and unimpressive looking. The unique looks would be added to her designs later by other engineers. One of the few choices she made for aesthetic reasons was to select aspens as the walls. She liked the smooth white bark in contrast with the black marks where it split. That choice made the growing of the house much slower than with bamboo, even with the accelerated growth that was written into the sequence.

That wasn’t the only change the engineers made. Many fewer branches grew on the inside than the outside, so it was easy to prune them where necessary to keep the walls smooth. Except where they wanted inside branches. In her library on the first floor for example branches grew inward at precise locations, then were woven into shelves as they grew. A similar thing was done for the floor, trees grown and bent over, then woven together to create a solid place to stand. Usually when the building was done being grown the floor would be covered with carpet to soften it, and then furniture could be brought in, either young grown furniture meant to finish growing in the home so it could grip the ground, or crafted by traditional carving and then placed around the rooms. Ekivia’s home had a combination of the two types of furniture, but most of the home was uncarpeted. She had long rugs, like pathways between rooms, branching out from a circular rug around the table at the entrance. This was another one of her aesthetic choices. She liked seeing the woven floor.

Being in the familiar place was small comfort today.

She made her way along the upstairs hallway, intending to go to her bedroom to sleep. But as she neared her defenses began to lower and her legs grew weak. The angry, sorrowful tears began streaming down her face again. She found herself unable to stand, overwhelmed with emotion, with pain. In that place, her home, she could let her guard drop, and doing so crushed her.

She curled up on the rug, weeping into it until she fell asleep.

**********

Ekivia awoke to the soft squawk and gentle nudge of her doorbird. Its beak was yellow with some red around the mouth, tall and curved with a blunt tip instead of a pointed one, and about half the size of its entire body. She stared at the bird for a moment, her mind sluggish. The creature was bred with an instinct to seek diordna out and then trained to do it when someone came to the door.

Ekivia started, sitting up so quickly she got light-headed briefly. Someone was at the door. She pushed herself to her feet, her hand on the still-wet carpet. She’d have to have the black tear stain cleaned. The bird hopped across the floor ahead of her, leading her to the door and the treats there that she would give it. The walls in her home glowed with the dim light of bioluminescence, telling her that it was night. She straightened her coat as she walked down the stairs, which were also illuminated by thin glowing vines woven through them.

Is it the priests? Ekivia wondered, dread rising in her chest and whitening her eyes. Had they realized what she’d done? Were they here to destroy the last vestiges of her decades of work?

She reached the entry hall, took a deep breath, and opened the door. A single diordna stood on her doorstep in the early night, a rope in one hand that was tied to the harness on an ape mother. It was the assistant that had seen her take the bees.

“This ape mother missed its cycle yesterday,” the nawo said, holding the rope leash forward.

Ekivia’s throat caught, her eyes filling with darkened blue as gratitude filled her. “Thank you.” She whispered.

“Don’t thank me,” the nawo said as she turned to leave. “Thank the Egeil and Dytie. And keep this hidden or you’ll lose it all again.”

Ekivia nodded, though she didn’t know what or who the Egeil was. The nawo started walking away from the door through the yard.

“Wait,” Ekivia called. “Who are you? I’m sorry but I don’t remember your name if you were on my team.”

“I wasn’t on your team,” the nawo said. “And I’m sorry but I can’t give you my name. Maybe someday we’ll meet again under better circumstances. If so I might get to tell you. Until then do your work and I’ll do mine.”

Ekivia blinked in shock as the nawo quickly turned away, passing through gap in the hedge that surrounded her yard and climbed onto a sleek black cat. They met eyes one last time and Ekivia reached a hand out to stop the nawo, her mouth stumbling as words wouldn’t come to her. The messenger nodded to Ekivia and disappeared quickly down the road.

Glancing around outside Ekivia brought the ape mother inside. She didn’t expect to see anyone out here. No one else lived out this way. The trees made it too difficult to farm the region so all the farmers lived several hours away to the north. She chose the place to be isolated when she needed to focus on her work without distraction, and today she blessed Dytie for the secrecy that choice gave her today.

Her work was not over.

She rushed inside, bringing the ape mother with her. As she closed the door she pulled two treats from the box on the table and gave them both to the door bird, It deserved an extra reward for what it had done tonight, then continued leading the ape upstairs. She took the creature upstairs, retrieved her bag from the floor where she’d slept, then went to the guest room which was on the opposite side of the library from her bedroom. Sitting on the bed near the window she removed the bee box from her bag and pulled the ape mother toward her, laying the creature down on the wool-stuffed mattress. She wished she had something to numb the creature so it wouldn’t fight her when she injected it. She’d just have to do what she could to keep it calm.

Once they were settled she opened the box and looked inside at the bees dragging their too-long stingers around and around behind them. She found the bee with a single stripe running down the center of its body, indicating it was the first injection, and removed it carefully from the box, holding it between three fingers with the long stinger passing between them. It was hard to maneuver with one hand, but she managed it. Then Ekivia shifted and turned so she could pet the creature to keep it calm.

She lowered the tip of the stinger to the ape's stomach and spoke softly. “You’re so good... That’s it. Just sit still with me.”

Ekivia pressed the stinger in until it vanished entirely beneath the skin. Ape and bee squirmed in unison as Ekivia made comforting shushing noises in the ear of the future mother. Slowly, the bee’s insides slipped from its wriggling body, and for the first time it flew, no longer weighed down by the long stinger.

An arms-length away it fell to the ground. Dead.

Ekivia carefully pinched the small tick-like sack at the top of the stinger, squeezing the fluid into the ape’s womb before slowly pulling the stinger free.

“See? That wasn’t so bad,” she whispered. “Only a few more.”

It had been decades since she’d done this part of the work. Usually, she just wrote the code and someone else injected them, but this time she was working alone. This time she had to do everything herself.

The ape squirmed and Ekivia had to stop her petting to hold it down, whispering gently. What she wouldn’t give to be in her lab, with quality help and materials. But she’d lost all that with the only explanation given being “the Drol commands it.” So instead of a lab, she was in the guest room of her home in the country. At least the mother seemed to be good breeding stock.

She shouldn’t complain. She had the bees she’d designed. It was a miracle. Everything was destroyed except these. Her project could continue here because of that one thing. She closed her eyes and sent up a prayer of gratitude to Dytie, thanking him for whoever this Egeil was.

When the ape calmed she looked in at the bees. If she was found with these she’d be arrested as a thief despite the fact that the sequences within them were hers, and almost anyone else would call them garbage.

The Drol’s garbage was her life’s work. Her eyes reddened with anger sight at that thought, and she felt a little sacrilegious for thinking it. But if Dytie wanted to stop her why had things worked out so far? Why had anything of her work been saved? It had to be a blessing from Dytie. But if it was then why would his representatives oppose it?

She selected the bee with the correct markings and carefully removed it from the gourd, maneuvering it into place.

When she finished the injections the ape mother whimpered in pain and fear, its head tucked against Ekivia’s hand, eyes darting to the gourd, the discarded stingers, the bee corpses.

Ekivia wanted to document this process going forward. She thought she had a parrot in her study that she could use, but if not she’d need a new one. She’d retrieve it and start a new set of research logs once the mother fell asleep.

As she waited in the darkness, thinking of how bad the day had been and how lucky she’d been to have any remnant of her work, she smiled. She’d already gone through all the testing phases, so she was certain these bees would work. In a little under a year, she’d have a baby Animal Intelligence.

Despite the hell that had been today, at that moment she felt a sliver of heaven in the flames.