Resurrection Log: Ź̷̼͖ý̶̧̡̩̫͉͔͇̓̈́̋̎̽̌͐͛̈́̎̒́̐̍͠r̴̢͓̖̲͙̲̮͋̉̓̾͒̑͜͠ͅa̵̡̨̦͍͉̳͎͕̞͔̲̺̰̩̩̽͑̆̈̌́̏͝g̵̼͈̟̗͔͋́̈́̀͆̀̚ą̸̯̽̈́̑͒͑́ṙ̷͙̝̥͔̳̜̗͖̦͉͓͕͗̈́̇̇͂̐̍̒̍̔d̸͇̞̥͓̠̈́͒͋̌̐͝ ̶̨̧̛͔̲̻̖͚̠̣͔̻̰̫̒̇͐͜͠T̴̠͓͔̦̩̻̼̖̽͆̍͆̓̊̽̔̚͠ơ̷̶̵̸̸̸̡̛̛̬̖̰̦̦̮͚̗̞̻̻̞̻̙̘̘͈͈̭̲͙̪͍̭̭͉͚̤̅̾̽͋̀̑̋̆̍̉̇̉̈́̿͋͒̇̊̓̂̿̿̑̈́͆͑͌̂̌̑̆̉͘̚͜͜͝͝͝͝͠ţ̷̢̢̛͙̩͎̥͈̝̖̈̄͛̄͊̆̓̈́̊ͅͅȩ̸̠͍̱̖̺̣̖̄̉̔͜ņ̷̡͓̘̥̠̖̝̺͈̥͔̲͊k̴̛̯̫̪͑̽̔́̅͂̿̂͋̉̂̕͘͠y̵̟̟̰̪̻̼̖̌̽̇̓́̍̃͒̾̕̚͝͠r̵̢̨̠͉̼̲̲͛͒̂̽̄͐͌̏͘͘͝a̴̛̰̙̫͂͐̓̐ḿ̷̡̛̤͙͕̼̱̻͙̔͌̓̈̏͑̔̈́̓͘̚ą̸̧̧̯̺̫͈̞͎̻̤̫̂͐̐͘ņ̷̨̱̖̟͖͚̣̂͌͗̌̾̔́̕ ̶̨̨̲̘̭͚̣̝̞̲͔̦̽̾̏̄̒́̚͝K̷̖̻̘̣͐̽̀̅͛͜͜͜ṟ̴̛͇̺͈̲͉̤̰̰̥͉͓̜͑̈́͌̔̍̓́̕ą̷̼̄̾͊̓̽̾͊̈̒̍̍́̉̚͝l̸̨̞͇͈̖͔̘̜̱̦͈̊
Year 76,589 of the —Mother of Ruin—
M:6 D:15
Day 971 of Cycle 3
[transcribed memory/thoughtstream generated by Ṁ̵̢̘̭̬̙̘̦̳͓̺͈̪̒̂ǫ̵̨̛̠̫̻̐̋̓͗͗͗̏̎͂̿͌̕t̴̜̪͇͕͚́̓͐h̴̯͍̼̦̯̝̜̝̤͂͋͆͌͗͝ę̸͉͖͕̜̤̘͙͎͚̈́̏͒̒̄̏̃̋͘̕͘͜ȓ̸̢̨͍͉̱̮̞͔̋̇ ̴̡̛̱̳̘̠͎̫̩̪̦̠̦̣̀͒͛͊̚͠G̷̰̹̝͆̈͜į̸̧̟͙̰͖̳̯̈́̒͜͜g̶͉̗̹̻̟̰̞̭̠͉͙̈́͊̌̈̈̓̐̒̕ạ̵̧̧̘͖͔̟̝̳̅̇̂̂̅̓̇͛̓͋̊̏̇̕t̵̮̉͒̋̄̑̇̌̀̅͑̋͋r̶̻̟͗̋̀̆̿̃̔̄͒̎̊̈́̚o̵̪̦͇̫̾̋̊̾̋͗͗̊͊̄͜͠͝ḡ̵̛̰͎̇̐͒͋̊̀͝ẗ̶̡̮̠͈̗̗̃͛̈̊̾ḩ̴͍̖͖̥͈̻̪̖̤̰̥̣̋͌̚ř̵̝̤̩͈͎̤͎̯̤͔̝̬̖̓̏͐̀̿̊̂̈͋̕͝͝ĭ̴̡̡͙̺̪͕̻̺̥̫̭̜̺̳̃̂͊̓́̅̈́̎̀̽̀̚ͅṃ̵̨͇̺̪̤̄͜ȧ̵͓̟͖̞̩̤͙̩̖̠̝̣̔ź̶̡͇͍̝̳͚̱͖̳͖̬͓̋̂͜ ̸̢̺͚̍̎̈́̂͛̂̐͐̊̕̚͜͝͝Ȉ̵̢̹̜̞͆̃͗̅̈́̋͒̅͝Í̶̡͓͓̰̥̤̗̱̀͛́͆̒͋̂͠͝I̴̟̞̪̯͍̟̿̂̐̌͑̎̅̋͐͆̍́] [cont’d]
We sat, the remaining crew of the Mr. Astley and Grayman’s wives and children, all crowded together in the upstairs living room. All facing the lumicell wall. Some silent and still, others fidgeting restlessly. Their fear soured the air.
The on-screen countdown ended, and a face appeared.
It was not actually a Benefactor, of course. They have no physical form on this plane. It was instead the face of one of their Emissaries. And in this case, they had chosen a khirtirlird. A being with reptilian and insectoid features layered over a primate’s body-plan and facial structure. A species that is widely known to be unsettling for humans to perceive.
“For nearly three hundred and fifty-seven standard cycles, humanity has roamed the stars amongst our Integrated worlds, and—although they are thirsotten, a species that has killed its own planet—we have made room for them. We, the Benefactors, have even gone so far as to give them one of the planets under our protection. And yet, from their very first day amongst us, they have repayed our generosity and tolerance with chaos and violence. As terror spreads like a rampant virus throughout the galaxy, we are forced to step in. Homo sapiens is a blight. The time has come for quarantine measures.”
As the Emissary paused to take a breath—something it only occasionally had need of—half the occupants of the room burst into furious discussion and shouts of that’s bullshit! The others just sat there, rigid, eyes pointed at the lumicell wall. Tursa and Shosho exchanged a look.
“The species Homo sapiens is hereby banned from all Integrated worlds, save Elysian. They are banned from all Integrated space stations. They will be allotted exactly as much time as they need to travel from wherever they are located to Elysian spacial territory, and no more…starting six standard units following their initial perception of this announcement. Those who cannot provide or afford their own transport will have it provided for them. Any humans found roaming beyond the spacial territory of the planet Elysian following that period will be escorted back and fined in life-years proportional to the extent of their violation.”
Another pause for breath, another outburst from half the room.
“Those who refuse escort will be destroyed. The species Homo sapiens is to understand that the moons of Elysian are off-limits and outside the bounds of their quarantine. Assuming their good behavior and adherence to these terms, the species Homo sapiens may petition for reentry into Integrated society in exactly three hundred and fifty-seven standard cycles. This announcement will be repeated every hour for the next thirty-six hours. We wish you well.”
For a moment, the screen went dark. Then it began once more to play coverage of the day’s attacks. Life support sabotage on Zippatis’ya Space Station. Devastating explosions on Her Ladyship Venyabeth’s Glorious Interlocked Rings of God. Toxic gases unleashed on public transport and in the schools of Blue Sabass moon. And more. So much more. And always, the humans seemed to make themselves the obvious perpetrators. Looking directly—unblinkingly—into surveillance drone ocular apparatus and cameras.
Suddenly Lore stood.
“I can’t…I can’t look at this anymore.”
Rin straightened in her seat, leaning toward her and reaching out. “Honey, we’ll turn it off and—”
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“No, I think I’m gonna go to bed.”
Then she turned and rushed from the chamber. Rin rose to follow her, but Tursa, standing behind her, squeezed her shoulder.
“If she wanted comfort from others right now, she would have stayed here,” said the huntress. “Let her be.”
With a long sigh, Rin fell back into her seat—both hands going up to tangle in her hair.
“What the hell are we going to do?”
For a moment, everyone was silent.
“Our options are limited, and not many of them are good,” said Grayman. I pointed my eyes his way at once. For the first time, I did not have to struggle to hold his words in my mind. And upon looking his way, I found that I could finally focus on his face without my perceptions always sliding in other directions.
He had very…ordinary features, but symmetrical and even, the lower half of his face partially concealed by a well-trimmed beard [facial fur]. No one aspect particularly stood out. He had a sort of medium skin tone. His eye-circles were gray…or perhaps blue. Maybe green. But then from another angle, they seemed brown.
“In my opinion, our best chance is to look to our allies.” His glance skimmed off Tursa, attention settling on Shosho.
Sitting to either side of him, his wives adjusted to turn their eyes his way. I had since learned that Marah was the name of the four-armed one to his left, and the baby in her lap was called Raal. To Grayman’s right was Indri, a woman with greenish-blonde hair and venomous fangs.
“The other endangered and homeless species we’ve opened the planet to. Those who can still come and go.”
“Look to us for what?” wondered the gla’cui.
“Information. All those humans captured on drone—they were off. And too obvious. Zyr encountered one like that in Thoriv. Unblinking. Weird. If a Lyrian could tell something was off about one of us, I’ll warrant something was off.”
Shosho tilted her head to one side, four-part beak opening and closing rhythmically.
“And you think if you could prove that humans aren’t really behind these attacks, the Benefactors will admit themselves wrong and cancel the quarantine?”
“I think it’s our best chance.”
The gla’clui tossed back her head, releasing a series of high-pitched hoots from her beak as her throat opened up, tongue-tentacles spilling out and splaying wide to reveal her esophageal opening…which made a sort of squelching sound.
“I’m willing to try,” she replied, when at last she’d stopped laughing. “And I’m sure many others will be, as well.”
Over at her spot beside Grayman, Marah cursed, [in this case, a sort of hiss of barely legible, arbitrarily taboo words] and rubbed her forehead with one hand. Another massaged her husband’s shoulder. The remaining two steadied her child as he nearly toppled face-forward from her lap.
“We don’t have the infrastructure for all the people that are about to flood in here. And we’ll have to rely on other species to trade on our behalf. This will mean cataclysmic levels of chaos and exploitation.”
“And do not forget all those who will refuse to live planetside, and instead clog up our space in their ships,” said Indri, her words very subtly slurred by her fangs.
“The more that stay up there for now, the better,” said Allico, another of Grayman’s wives, from her floor cushion. “We’re not ready for them down here.” The fin-like gills to either side of her face fluttered, pink-tinged, like her skin. Her own baby, who had been born with a tail-fin in place of the usual appendages, was writhing about on the white shag rug beside her, fussy because its legs were coming in.
“I will go with any of those who agree to gather information for you, and assist in their endeavors,” I offered.
Everyone looked at me. Rin cleared her throat.
“Um, actually, Zyr…there’s kind of a…a specific favor we wanted to ask you for. Or bargain for. And now we need it more than ever.”
I pointed my eyes at her. Stared.
“You have brought me here for a reason of which I have not been previously informed?”
Rin’s eyes were shifty.
“Er, I guess so. Yes. I was kind of hoping we’d have more time down here before it needed to come up, but—”
“Please,” I said, rather sharply. “Get to the point.” Another phrase I had been waiting to use, and which she had earned.
Rin swallowed, wet her lips with her tongue. Inhaled.
“Look, everyone knows the Benefactors stuck us with this planet because they believe humanity isn’t fit to exist as it is. Was. That we only deserve to live if we become something else. They’re the ones behind this. I guarantee it. I don’t know how exactly, but they are. We can try to force them to save face by publicly proving our innocence, but even on the very, very small chance that works…a lot of us will be stuck down here for a long time. There are people who can’t live in space, who’ll be forced to move here from other planets and Warp against their will.”
“And your favor?” I pressed.
“We haven’t been able to crack the tech to readily, drastically modify ourselves the way you do. The Benefactors have made sure of that. That damned religion has overshadowed every earth-based spirituality amongst my species almost everywhere, and especially here. The majority of Elysians wouldn’t be willing to control or halt their change. To sin. But those who would…they should have that option. Some of the Variations people are getting…they’re dangerous, even deadly. There are people who began to change and just…disappear. More and more every week. Please, help us. Show us how it’s done. Help us learn to resist the Warp…or control it.”
“I cannot,” I informed her, though surely she knew this. “You received the same initiatory package as every other allied species who accepted it. But we cannot go so far as to interfere directly in your bodily modifications. We cannot be responsible for—”
She leant forward then, eyes wide and reflective. Bit at her lip but did not break the skin.
“Please, Zyr,” she whispered. “We are begging you.”