Resurrection Log: Ź̷̼͖ý̶̧̡̩̫͉͔͇̓̈́̋̎̽̌͐͛̈́̎̒́̐̍͠r̴̢͓̖̲͙̲̮͋̉̓̾͒̑͜͠ͅa̵̡̨̦͍͉̳͎͕̞͔̲̺̰̩̩̽͑̆̈̌́̏͝g̵̼͈̟̗͔͋́̈́̀͆̀̚ą̸̯̽̈́̑͒͑́ṙ̷͙̝̥͔̳̜̗͖̦͉͓͕͗̈́̇̇͂̐̍̒̍̔d̸͇̞̥͓̠̈́͒͋̌̐͝ ̶̨̧̛͔̲̻̖͚̠̣͔̻̰̫̒̇͐͜͠T̴̠͓͔̦̩̻̼̖̽͆̍͆̓̊̽̔̚͠ơ̷̶̵̸̸̸̡̛̛̬̖̰̦̦̮͚̗̞̻̻̞̻̙̘̘͈͈̭̲͙̪͍̭̭͉͚̤̅̾̽͋̀̑̋̆̍̉̇̉̈́̿͋͒̇̊̓̂̿̿̑̈́͆͑͌̂̌̑̆̉͘̚͜͜͝͝͝͝͠ţ̷̢̢̛͙̩͎̥͈̝̖̈̄͛̄͊̆̓̈́̊ͅͅȩ̸̠͍̱̖̺̣̖̄̉̔͜ņ̷̡͓̘̥̠̖̝̺͈̥͔̲͊k̴̛̯̫̪͑̽̔́̅͂̿̂͋̉̂̕͘͠y̵̟̟̰̪̻̼̖̌̽̇̓́̍̃͒̾̕̚͝͠r̵̢̨̠͉̼̲̲͛͒̂̽̄͐͌̏͘͘͝a̴̛̰̙̫͂͐̓̐ḿ̷̡̛̤͙͕̼̱̻͙̔͌̓̈̏͑̔̈́̓͘̚ą̸̧̧̯̺̫͈̞͎̻̤̫̂͐̐͘ņ̷̨̱̖̟͖͚̣̂͌͗̌̾̔́̕ ̶̨̨̲̘̭͚̣̝̞̲͔̦̽̾̏̄̒́̚͝K̷̖̻̘̣͐̽̀̅͛͜͜͜ṟ̴̛͇̺͈̲͉̤̰̰̥͉͓̜͑̈́͌̔̍̓́̕ą̷̼̄̾͊̓̽̾͊̈̒̍̍́̉̚͝l̸̨̞͇͈̖͔̘̜̱̦͈̊

Year 76,589 of the —Mother of Ruin—

M:6 D:12

Day 968 of Cycle 3

[transcribed memory/thoughtstream generated by Ṁ̵̢̘̭̬̙̘̦̳͓̺͈̪̒̂ǫ̵̨̛̠̫̻̐̋̓͗͗͗̏̎͂̿͌̕t̴̜̪͇͕͚́̓͐h̴̯͍̼̦̯̝̜̝̤͂͋͆͌͗͝ę̸͉͖͕̜̤̘͙͎͚̈́̏͒̒̄̏̃̋͘̕͘͜ȓ̸̢̨͍͉̱̮̞͔̋̇ ̴̡̛̱̳̘̠͎̫̩̪̦̠̦̣̀͒͛͊̚͠G̷̰̹̝͆̈͜į̸̧̟͙̰͖̳̯̈́̒͜͜g̶͉̗̹̻̟̰̞̭̠͉͙̈́͊̌̈̈̓̐̒̕ạ̵̧̧̘͖͔̟̝̳̅̇̂̂̅̓̇͛̓͋̊̏̇̕t̵̮̉͒̋̄̑̇̌̀̅͑̋͋r̶̻̟͗̋̀̆̿̃̔̄͒̎̊̈́̚o̵̪̦͇̫̾̋̊̾̋͗͗̊͊̄͜͠͝ḡ̵̛̰͎̇̐͒͋̊̀͝ẗ̶̡̮̠͈̗̗̃͛̈̊̾ḩ̴͍̖͖̥͈̻̪̖̤̰̥̣̋͌̚ř̵̝̤̩͈͎̤͎̯̤͔̝̬̖̓̏͐̀̿̊̂̈͋̕͝͝ĭ̴̡̡͙̺̪͕̻̺̥̫̭̜̺̳̃̂͊̓́̅̈́̎̀̽̀̚ͅṃ̵̨͇̺̪̤̄͜ȧ̵͓̟͖̞̩̤͙̩̖̠̝̣̔ź̶̡͇͍̝̳͚̱͖̳͖̬͓̋̂͜ ̸̢̺͚̍̎̈́̂͛̂̐͐̊̕̚͜͝͝Ȉ̵̢̹̜̞͆̃͗̅̈́̋͒̅͝Í̶̡͓͓̰̥̤̗̱̀͛́͆̒͋̂͠͝I̴̟̞̪̯͍̟̿̂̐̌͑̎̅̋͐͆̍́][cont’d]

The adjustments to my form were a lengthy and tedious process. There was much argument involved. I will not bore you or future versions of myself with the details.

The ship was quite small, and made mostly of interconnected metal configurations. There was, however, a layer of living tissue on parts of the interior, as well as a few other biophage upgrades that seemed, I’m sorry to say, rather artlessly integrated into their existing technology. Nevertheless, it is always interesting to see what other species make of our…contributions.

[A fun fact: Humans name their ships, even though they are not properly alive. This ship’s name was Mr. Astley, but for some reason they called it Rick. There seems to be some deep lore involved in the naming, but I have yet to look into it.]

“Where is the crew?” I queried, moving my head as I perceived the space in full.

This was entirely unnecessary, of course. I had made eyes at Rin’s insistence, and though they could see and even roll around in their sockets, their sensory capabilities were far inferior to my t̷̻̂̓r̷̗̀́ÿ̵̝̦́p̸͙̬̀̿t̸̨͑̇ḩ̶͓͊r̸͕̈́̚y̶̡̓͝a̵̠̐̂x̸͐͂ͅ. I had kept that, of course, but I made it look like skin and fur and hair. Or at least, as much like those things as I could. Skin and hair are strange, and limited in their sensory capabilities. I feel sorry for humans with their blind skins.

“They’re still gallivanting around the station, will be for another half hour or so,” replied the human to that query I mentioned.

“Gallivanting,” I said. “Gallivanting!”

She laughed, and I had to remind myself that she was most likely not choking.

“Yeah, I like that one too. Anyway, this is good. Now I can show you around a bit before everyone gets here and things get…uuum. Crowded? And I get to surprise them with you.” She did the thing again where she pulled her lips apart and bared her teeth. It is called a grin and it meant that she was pleased.

It did not take us very long to tour the ship. One of the most interesting parts was the mess hall where the crew all go to simultaneously eat and watch each other eat. They also talk while doing this, in spite of the fact that many of them use their mouths for both. I felt that the nose could be easily modified to accommodate ingestion on one side, and respiration on the other, freeing the mouth up entirely for talking (humans have repeatedly rejected the idea of abandoning mouth-sounds as a method of communication, hence why I did not simply recommend the standard brain modifications that any normal species would have made by now).

But when I suggested these very reasonable adjustments, Rin just laughed again. Fools implied this was something various species often did in response to a joke.

I don’t even know what a joke is. I tried pressing Absolute Fools for details…and got an errorbit.

In spite of this weirdness, the influence of our species was clearer in the mess hall than anywhere else that I could perceive. The humans are a race which are fond of their aesthetics, which is something I appreciate about them…even if I cannot always appreciate the aesthetics themselves. They also take delight in whatever sensory experiences and processes they can, which has fascinating implications when applied to biophage advancements.

And so, instead of merely setting their phage to generate balanced, nutrient-rich secretions (or, you know, modifying themselves to generate nutrients from ambient elements, but I digress), they make them grow plants. In the open. Under lumicells which generate light similar to that which an Ê̵̦̓M̷͇̀́-̵̲̲̀C̶̢̊̾L̵̯͎͌Ą̷͒S̴̨̒̊S̷̼̰͆ planet receives from a G2V.

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

Which is to say…garish and offensive.

They generate meat as well, but are rather more discreet about it. Apparently, meat is not an aesthetic which humans generally appreciate. Aside from perhaps one—the thought triggered an infobit from Homo Sapiens for Absolute Fools. There was a queen among the humans once, or a goddess. Even Fools didn’t seem quite sure which. [From later studies, I have surmised she was the human equivalent of a Mother. Her many monikers only reinforce this notion.]

She made pleasing sounds with her throat and once wore a dress (long garment) of mammal meats. Other than that, though, the humans tend to stick to skins and furs when it comes to displaying and wearing their dead creatures. Oh, and bones and antlers and teeth.

Everything but the meat and organs, really. I suspect this has to do with waste. They are, after all, a species which often consumes dead flesh, and for a very long time they were not terribly great at preserving it. Their attempts resulted in some fun things though. Like jerky. Desiccated, dead, and yet still entirely-edible flesh! Fascinating.

[At this point, you will think I am embellishing. But if you doubt me, simply look into it. Humans have indeed, throughout their history, eaten mummified corpses…and still do to this day!]

And I do say humans, though I knew even then that some of the crew were not of that species. But the fact that this was a human ship, initially designed for them in particular, was apparent in everything I could perceive.

They also had their lumicells set up to look like something called stained glass—all over the vessel, actually—and I am pleased to tell you, this was an absolute delight to perceive. A crude, primitive and ancient human art—rendered through the medium of technology’s penultimate manifestation.

Magnificent. And just the reminder I needed at that moment of my people’s purpose. My own directive.

I was quite heartened.

Of course, I did not expect my tour to include the captain’s quarters. Humans in high ranks are generally given a larger physical space to occupy as a way to further emphasize said rank, and are quite territorial over it. And yet…

“Here it is!”

Remembering to turn my head around as I did so, I perceived the space. It was lined with—I searched the Fools download—bunks. Many of them had been embellished with quaint human knick-knacks and art like explicit pornography, tapestries, string-lights, and something I have since learned is called a Twilight poster, a reverential depiction of figures from ancient human folklore.

[I later made my own version of a Twilight poster. Everyone hated it. It is one of my most treasured possessions still. Yes, I have also come to enjoy the concept of possessions. I have been told I might have a problem.]

Leading me to the end of the space, and still doing her grinning thing, Rin gestured with her bone-filled hands at the one bunk which was not embellished.

“Home-sweet-home,” she said. “All yours. And I’m right up here.” She pointed a finger at the bunk above it.

I practiced something which Fools suggested would be appropriate in the moment. I pulled the skin around my eyeballs back to expose them further. And I pointed with one of my fingers. Yes, I now had fingers. I even filled them with bones, despite how unsettling they were.

I am braver than I thought.

“Those—” I began, pointing to the artworks above her bed. But I stopped, because Rin was making louder mouth-sounds than I was.

“That’s right,” she said. “Two of the most beautiful forms humanity has ever devised. Combined, just for you…to make the most ideal body. Well, er,” she eyed me again. “Or, you know. A pretty good first draft of it, at least. I’m sure it’ll get better with every iteration.”

“I am confused,” I said, even using my throat and—I regret to inform you—my face-hole to speak. I was confused about many things, but I chose to focus on just the one for now. “Do you not have your own quarters?”

Rin was pointing her eyeballs at her human art again.

“Nah,” she said. “We converted that into like, a game-room sort of thing.”

“That is useless,” I observed.

“Yeeeah,” she sighed. Another nice and airy sound. “It’s great.”

[My opinion on the utility of games has since entirely changed. Again, as the humans say. “I have a problem”]

She then asked me if I needed to use a bathroom. I learned about bathrooms, and the reasons for their necessity. Parts of Fools I hadn’t before cared to pay much attention to. I will not elaborate further on this subject, except to say that they have found rather clever ways of easing the process via biophage…everything up to the point of actually modifying themselves.

Baffling.

It was about then that I perceived the entry of six new sapient entities aboard the ship. Within moments, they were shoving their bodies into the bunk-room, many of them carrying sacks and other fascinating paraphernalia (wonderful word). Rin was positioned between myself and them, and at first their eyes and other sensory organs pointed to her.

But as they began to perceive what they could of me over her head and her…shoulders…they ceased in all forward progression. The ones with eyelids opened them wide. Rin stepped to the side, pointing her green circles from the crew to myself and grinning quite aggressively.

“Welcome back, everyone! Zyr, meet everyone. Everyone, meet Zyr.”

For a while, none of the other beings spoke or did anything besides point their eyeballs at me.

“Hello,” I ventured, bringing up one of my hands and moving it through the air. A friendly gesture of greeting known as a wave.

The forward-most crewmember ended the long stretch of responding silence—a very interesting-looking human individual who’d made many adjustments to his appearance. None of which had any utility, as far as I could tell.

“What,” he said, staring from myself to Rin. “In the god-damned fuck is this?”

The captain, whose face had been steadily transitioning between different hues as she seemed to abstain from respiration, burst into sudden and particularly loud laughter.