Where lies the strangling fruit that came from the hand of the sinner I shall bring forth the seeds of the dead…
Continue reading “Southern Reach”Category: Fiction
Cure Day
I have good news: there is no cure. You just wake up another day and fight it. Day after day until that’s who you become: a fighter.
What the Hell Did I Just Read
Redol Landing I
Dropping in, it looks abstract. But now that it’s closer, I can tell it’s Gweorlian; probably shoaniperag. Going lower down until it gets clearer. The shapes of the crop fields and forest lines become jagged with the texture of the life inside them. Down further until it’s almost like walking on the ground. There are burn marks in the shoaniper field from a landing party. There’s the shiny spot on the horizon near the treeline.
Dropping in, it looks abstract. But now that it’s closer, I can tell it’s Gweorlian; probably shoanipag. Going lower, it gets clearer. The shapes of the crop fields and forest lines become jagged with the texture of the life inside them. Down further until it’s almost like walking on the ground. There are burn marks in the shoaniper field from a landing party. There’s the shiny spot on the horizon near the treeline. When I get closer, I know it’s the Gretchen class landing ship that I can never identify. Who makes a ship so shiny? Obviously not a tactical vessel. The shoaniper is short; looks like it was harvested recently. No aerli, which is unusual for harvest. But there are some small mamli near the treeline. Probably checking the absurd mirror ship to scavenge. Rolling across the field at triple. Once I’m past the ship, the harvest field is monotonous; I’m not taking precautions, just cutting triple. Up ahead at the edge of the field is the long low building. White. No windows. Simple geometry with flat walls and squared angles. It’s long like one of the history bunkers. It stretches from the treeline across the field: the length of three Gretchens, easy. There is a door. I’m going toward the door again. It’s like a relic door with a doorknob. I put my hand on the knob and it turns easily.
“Oh shit.” The blood lights flood and I open my eyes. I’m back in the wake at the psyen lab again. And there he is, as usual. Peering at me with his oversize officer scrubs and his curious face. He’s looking different today though. He looks… alarmed? Maybe because I cursed. He already reviewed this sleep several times; I’m not sure what has changed. The sleep hasn’t changed for weeks. “Excuse me, Medicius Senior. The wake was abrupt today.”
“It’s OK, Kirik. That was good. Thank you.”
“OK, are we done or do you need more?”
“No, we’re done for today. You can go back to quarters. Just remember to keep the the monitor on for your sleep.”
I see his cosci through the window in the monitor room suddenly look up at me. Then the Medicius puts on his best stern face and locks eyes with me. “Kirik, it’s crucial that the monitor stays on for your sleep.” Short pause as his cosci turns back to the monitors, “I need you to tell me you understand.”
“Yes Medicius Senior, I understand.” How this guy is a Medicius Senior is what I do not understand. He’s at least ten seasons younger than me.