“Nice weather today, huh?” asked Malagasy as he and one of the sisters (he’d forgotten her name) clattered down the hall.
“I suppose it is.”
Malagasy sighed. Why was everyone in this Kibforsaken place so cryptic?! At least the bats were lively that night, if nothing else. He wondered how they must think of the two of them, puttering down below. Did they even consider they had their own lives, their own adventures to get to?
But he did not have long to think. Like so many other places in the Monastery, the Archives were dark and foreboding, no matter how many lights were lit. Rows and rows of shelves and drawers stretched out on either side of them, going far past where what little light the glowing lanterns provided could reach. On the sides of these shelves, yellowing placards with numbers had been attached, allowing Malagasy to appreciate just how vast the place was. Under his arm, wrapped in burlap, he held a treasure that could change the way they understood their new home forever.
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Malagasy, the Chief Archivist, and Madame Saguaro herself.
The three of them stood around a table, staring at the long, burlap wrapped object before them.
“Alright, let’s give it a look.”
Tepidly, Malagasy undid the leather packaging, revealing the curious object.
“Traveller, what is it we gaze upon?”
Malagasy paused, sweat dripping down his temples.
“Well, the the guy who sold it to me said it’s some kind of human weapon. See, you open it…” He explained, gripping both ends, then with a swift snap, splitting it open on a brass hinge. “And then you put in a little metal ball with some black powder, so it fires.”
“And you believe that’s how the old inhabitants of this world used weapons?” Saguaro’s voice was firm, but Malagasy could detect just a hint of judgement in it.
“Well, I suppose so…” He answered as one braces for impact. “This is much too elaborate to be a forgery…”
“THINK, Malagasy,” began Saguaro, “Just look how much metal this single artifact contains. Do you think it could conceivably be manufactured en-masse on this planet?”
“Well, I guess it’s unlikely…”
“Malagasy, the surface of this planet is primarily oxygen and silicon. Hypothetically, there could be enough an area of the planet where tectonic movement thrust rare metals close enough to the surface to be attainable, but-“ She gestured to the darkness, and the vast waters beyond it. “As far as we know, there is ocean, everywhere.”
Yeah, says the lady who never leaves her house. Thought Malagasy. But of course, he didn’t say it out loud.
“Not to mention the mechanics that go into such an artifact.” Continued Madame Saguaro. “It uses ignition to fire, correct?”
“Uh, yes?”
“And why would the masters of this world use a weapon that is useless in over seventy percent of the planet? Would it not be easier to genetically modify shrimp to fire rapid projectile rounds, as was achieved on our homeworld?”
“I mean, I guess so, but you presume intelligent life must have evolved in this planet’s ocean. It’s entirely possible sapience could have developed in a terrestrial ecosystem.”
“And why would THAT happen, Malagasy, when land exists only in isolated pockets? When they only have limited access to the metal from which these weapons are forged? When-”
Malagasy turned inward, focusing on his own thoughts. Why did he still do this? Going to all the trouble to acquire rare and unusual artifacts, only to get condescended to by a delusional priestess living in a cave? And for all his desire to eventually convince Creosote to leave this place, was that REALLY feasible, all things considered? Was he just being selfish, in wanting her to still like him? Why did he have to be so introspective about things like this? Why couldn’t he just take life as it was, like-!
Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.
“Malagasy, are you unwell?”
Four words shot Malagasy back to reality, where Madame Saguaro’s stare threatened to bore a hole through his soul.
“No.” He sighed, then thought about it, and added “Ma’am.”
Saguaro nodded. “Good. It does one well to learn from their mistakes.”
And so Malagasy returned to wondering, wondering if maybe Vera had a point about him…
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As the adults debated down below, two children wandered on the back of a long dead lizard. Azul inhaled gently, letting the morning air into her lungs. It was strange, being out in the garden at this time of day, when normally she’d still be whittling away in the Scriptorium. Perhaps this was Kib’s way of awarding her valorous life. Or perhaps, as Sister Barrel would say, this was a sign of her innate evil, having swayed the innocent maiden…
“Are you okay?” Vera asked.
Azul, roused from thought, realized she’d gotten within six feet of the guest, and promptly backed away.
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Ma’am? I’m not that old!”
It took everything in Azul’s power not to curl into a little ball of shame.
“Hey.”
Azul opened her eyes to see Vera looking right at her, the way a child might inspect a beached jellyfish.
“Are you okay?”
“Y-yes.” Was the curt reply.
“No you’re not! You’re stuttering and stuff!”
Azul could only wince at this. What had she ever done to deserve such kindness?!
“Hey, I’m sorry. Let’s just forget I said anything okay?”
“O-okay.”
“So why does everything here look like something else?”
“Well, biomimicry is a common adaptational strategy in nature…”
Vera shook their head. “I mean, I know that! But I’ve never known a place where so many creatures do it!”
“W-whatever do you mean?” Was the quick reply. Though Azul immediately regretted saying something that could be construed as a barb.
“Like, how the flowers are mosquitoes, and the flowers look like bugs! Or how the snakes are plants, or-!”
The Prodigy recited “Via a process known as natural selection, organisms accumulate favorable traits, which allow them to survive their changing environment and pass their genes to their offspring…”
“But what do you think?” asked Vera.
The Prodigy pondered this for a moment, then decided “It’s a form of atonement.”
“What do you mean by that?”
And Azul sweated. She was not used to dealing with people so… blunt. “See those orchids there?”
Vera did. It was a rich purple, but at the center were delicate orange petals arranged in such a way they bore a striking resemblance to a large bee.
“Their petals resemble a bee that once lived on this island, but has since gone extinct.”
“But there are so many patterns!”
The Prodigy shrugged. “There were a lot of bees.”
“Wait, so are you saying you…?”
“Correct. They were all killed off when we arrived here.”
For a time, they wandered aimlessly, neither knowing what to say.
Vera finally broke the silence. “So this is why you guys like in that Komodo all day and wear robes?”
“It’s a way of atonement.”
“And the reason we have to stay six feet apart?”
“The sickness might dwell in us still.”
Vera pondered this for a moment. The Prodigy understood, it wasn’t easy to-
“That’s stupid.”
Azul paused, then shook her head. Surely-
“I said, that’s stupid.”
No, the guest had absolutely questioned the edicts of the Monastery.
“H-how DARE-!” The Prodigy quickly calmed herself via deep breaths.
“I understand you do not have much knowledge of our ways, but I believe it uncouth for you to-!”
“But it is! Why should you pay for the sins of a bunch of old geezers?!”
They kicked a pebble. Bushes rustled as the creatures of the forest fled from the surprise missive.
“It’s stupid, I say!” To which their companion said nothing.
The Prodigy’s mind whirled. What to do in such a situation?!
And just like that, the answer was clear:
“You are incorrect. The ways of this Monastery must be held sacred, so that we might return to the motherland. There, we will be cured of our illness.”
“But that wasn’t your fault!” Vera retorted. “You guys didn’t know you were carrying something dangerous!”
“If not our fault, then why was it OUR life ship?” The Prodigy argued “Surely, of all the life ships that fled Venus in the rapture, why would a great plague find itself on ours in particular?”
“Or dumb luck.” Vera muttered.
The Prodigy, for her part, said nothing.
Inevitably, Vera spoke up.
“I’m sorry.”
And so the Prodigy found a new puzzle. How to respond to such a situation?
Vera could only stare as her friend paced about in circles.
“A-are you okay?”
For some bizarre reason, the nun in training pondered the question.
Was it better to lie and offer false assurance, or devote oneself to the truth? Or perhaps-?
“Look, if saying I agree with you will get you to stop, will you?”
What to do what to do what to do-!
“Because I’m not going to! Not until you stop hurting yourself!”
The Prodigy inhaled. Azul exhaled. She just wanted to sleep.
“Look, just forget this, okay?” Vera stared at the ground.