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Pylo screamed into her shower. Body entirely unfurled, every one of her sporing passages and surface area open to release her voice into the space.

She shed spores and packets of feral genomes in clouds of thickening polymers and jellies. She filled the space with sublimating fluids chokingly packed with every single profanity and hated slur in her native tongue she could conceive of.

Her limbs lashing and twisting around in gyres to spin and churn the effluvient. Dispersing the noxious pollens in sweeping sheets around her.

She wailed thrashing viruses and caustic enzymes into being. Pouring them out until they meshed and fought one another then made up and hybridized into even more vicious and insidious forms. She drew up every memory of every shed cell and subtle hormonal cue she had soaked up from the terrans and sent out spearing phages that jousted and speared one another for daring to have the protein coating of one of those idiot stupid tooth skum parasites.

Pylo heaved and vomited her spite into the enclosed space until the walls were crawling with it and unfortunate objects that she had not remembered to clear out were bubbling and frothing in turgid fertility. Ready to burst malformed hate spawn given the chance to metabolize.

She screamed in the long and short light, cooking some of the spores and unfortunate viral-pollen hybrids in the intensity of it, spewing rampant replication code and instantiation algorithms in every language and logiform she knew. Inventing new compact and subversive cryptographic payloads that no other entity would ever hear but her.

She invented new emotions for her rage to spill over into, feeling unique forms of frustration nobody had felt before, and languages to describe them.

She extruded nightmare cascades of rods and gears that held the mechanical process of its own production in its working, lathing and then jamming in the profusion of other gunk impotently. Soon dissolved and rotted away by the caustic profusions of the rest that scrawled and crawled over it. Ripping and shredding before it in turn was dissolved into gelatinous goo by competing expulsions.

She filled her shower with a maelstrom of plague and tumorous data, carbon and silicate, metal and things that blended and meshed all in veiny networks of crystalline webs. Steam and turgid mist scattered the light, the space was full to the point that it was a sloshy foam that she more swam in then floated. In places growing chunky and solid with the fruits of her voice.

But she didn't care right now, later she would clean up the place but for right now it would hold.

Pylo had built this place to seal her off. Her "shower". To be a refuge where she could let loose.

She had then rebuilt it many times after when she found the limits of the previous version. She had shielded it from every message signal she knew of, she had sealed it with the most compact and durable of materials. It was even surrounded by rings full of computational goo that supposedly when activated would momentarily dilate time and stretch space to halt many resonance based problems via the hard rule of lightspeed. Shred anything trying to escape with a time-sink. She had rigged it to flood itself with sterilizing fluids so caustic that it left her ovi-reticuli scoured away. With hunter killer liquid ideas that would have rendered any thought substrate into disassociated ash besides her own.

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In short it was what any siren on her own who needed to work out her frustrations desperately needed.

Pylo cycled the hot fluid gunk that surrounded her, digesting and filtering it and considering. She was feeling a lot better now, but then again she was going to have to scour herself down entirely after this when she started up the shower.

Might as well get the most out of it.

Pylo took a deep breath and then started singing about things a lot more pleasant then how stupid the terrans were.

Like cake!

Oh yeah she was going to eat at least dæn cake after this. She was going to eat them and then after she was refreshed and clean and full and no longer mad about this she was going to talk to her friends properly and they were going to UNDERSTAND her properly this time.

No more being lead astray by their stupid backwards incoherent neuroanatomical theories on the basis of consciousness and language. No more constantly being misconstrued, no more traumatizing poor girls with simple greetings! She might even dare to actually hug them!

With that thought Pylo belted out an even richer and more prosperous song then all the spiteful hate she had screamed out before. With proper incubation delays and cliqueing protocols. Proteins latching together into subversive meta gametes within the material she was already swimming in.

And so the mess of her shower twisted and flowed to her voice and exaltation. Sweeping around her dancing limbs in a crystalizing weave. Spiraling twists and branching profusion and deathly memetic beauty as she let her annoyance go.

All of it was almost too beautiful to clean up.

But Pylo was a proper girl that followed her mother’s hygiene lessons and she was not going to leave a eco-plague to fester in her room no matter how pretty. Or save an image of it that itself contained memetic plagues.

Time to clean.

She braced herself as the shower filled with searing hot annihilation and shortest light. The delicate components of viral ur-pollen and meta-spores were utterly obliterated first. Then the sturdier compounds seared and flashed as their structural bonds were broken and released. The heat of it washed over Pylo and even licked and caught in her dermal fibres.

A conflagration rendering her little personal garden of vented tension down to its raw elemental ashes.

It also utterly obliterated a good bit of Pylo’s none-vital surface area as well.

Which as always stung something awful.