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canyouhearthelight · 4 months

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Machine is Perfect, but Flesh is Free Act One

Another short story, in four parts. This one has many influences: Paolo Bacigalupi's "The Fluted Girl", @cakeinpants's Pat, chronic pain conditions, and cyberpunk augmentations. This protagonist is unnamed, nonbinary/agender, as well.

This is specifically not a horror story, but due to the mentions of chronic pain and body augmentations, I do advise caution if those things are triggering to you. While the pain is frequently mentioned, the story is told from the perspective of a ballet dancer, and pain is part and parcel of that. None of the body augmentations happen on screen, I promise. They are all years in the past before the story.

Please enjoy!

Act One

“One day, when I’m famous, I’m going to buy you a house.”

The childish voice, vibrating with confidence, echoed the foolish promise in my head, just as it had before every rehearsal and every performance since. I had been barely five years old, and too excited from looking up the mountain at the city - my future home - to sleep. My parents had laughed at my words, and at the time I was so proud that I’d made them happy.

Now, as pain shot through my entire body while someone else tied my performance shoes on, I was well aware they had been trying not to cry. Only years of practice kept my own tears at bay as I was forced out of my wheelchair and to my feet, every muscle and joint in electric agony with the movement. A set of hands pulled my costume over my head and started lacing up the back, while a much more familiar pair held a tool in front of my face.

“Time to turn the little doll’s key,” Urus sneered. The head of my security team thought I was a waste of his time and took entirely too much pleasure in each and every time he was able to stab me with the wicked tool.

I stared numbly at his face as I felt the impacts to each hip joint, silently wishing he would use it on my neck. Instead, all of my pain subsided as the nerve blocks implanted in my bones activated, washing a pleasant numbness throughout my legs and back. The orchestra silenced, indicating that the curtain was about to part, and Urus spat at my feet before leaving the stage.

No broken wrist this time. He was starting to warm up to me.

The next thing I knew was thunderous applause and blinding lights, followed by the swell of music. I fixed the dreamy look on my face that Master Arik expected and started going through my paces with mechanical precision. A modified pas de deux, choreographed for only one dancer, with as much of the partner work left in as humanly possible.

Well. Mostly humanly.

Where most, if not all, of the audience saw a young dancer of incredible skill, Arik was watching only for the slightest flaw he could punish someone for. Any physical sign of the cybernetic or gene-hacking enhancements that gave me perfect stability and balance, textbook ideal form, or disgustingly petite feet would have the entire staff of doctors whipped bloody - after they corrected it, of course. An undisciplined totter on my part, an arm a single degree out of position, and I would be forced to do all my rehearsals with full sensation, even in my mutilated feet.

I was, it turned out, entirely too expensive to break. Torture was still an option, though.

As I made my way through the gravity-defying leaps that replaced the lifts in the sequence, I fantasized about walking barefoot through wet grass. I had done it as a child, I could remember it vividly. Cool, damp, soft blades tickling between my toes as I walked and ran. I would give anything to be able to walk again. Or have toes.

The music started to wind into its inevitable end, and I pulled myself from my reverie. Composing my face, I focused on executing the last bits of footwork without flaw, reveling in what my body could do when I wasn’t in pain. When I completed the performance, picture perfect and stone still, the crowd erupted into thunderous applause.

My teacher had informed me that it was supposed to thrill me, that any other dancers would be thrilled.

I only knew that I would be in pain again within a minute, the closest thing to freedom taken from me again.

Sure enough, Urus was less than a meter behind the edge of the curtain - no encores for this performer - one of his cronies pushing my chair. Roughly, I was inspected for any flaws before being stripped down and perfunctorily stabbed in my hips. Quickly and without complaint, I sat in my chair before the block wore off. Urus even stifled a laugh as the costumer looked offended that I had already shoved my tights down to my knees.

“Sir, she is very uncovered - “

Urus lashed out with a foot, laughter gone. “You are here to inspect their costume for damage that could expose Master Arik. You are not here to be offended.”

I schooled my features into a slow blink only through years of practice. There were no illusions that Urus was getting soft or feeling anything related to sympathy - as long as I existed, he would never see promotion to a position he felt was important. No, Urus was extremely strict that I was property, not a person, and calling me anything else was a quick way to draw his ire.

It was the only thing we openly agreed on, frankly.

As much as we were likely both hoping that my shoes had come apart again - three seamstresses had already lost hands to such failures, and the current one was a sadistic demon - they were disatisfyingly intact. With a grunt, Urus gestured for me to be covered in a thick poncho and we headed to our next stop. Every dip and jostle in the corridors was a new shock of pain, but the majority of them felt familiar. I mapped my locations within Master Arik’s estate by sensation rather than turns: left hip, up through the ribs… tailbone, right knee left knee… “Urus, my feet hurt,” I advised coldly.

He held up a hand to stop us. “What did you say?”

“My feet hurt. My heels, specifically.” My heels hadn’t touched a floor for long enough to even have calluses in nearly a decade, as he was well aware. Even now, they rested above the back of my foot supports as the biological parts of my legs cramped.

No amount of discipline made up for twelve years of constant forced companionship. Two slow breaths for him was the equivalent of practically vibrating with excitement. “We will have the doctor look for any abrasions or bruising at your check up.”

I nodded, and he gestured for us to continue. The doctor gave me a very thorough and impersonal check, scolding my heels before anyone could say anything. He applied a salve and wrapped them, explaining that an analgesic would interfere with ‘the healing’.

“You mean my implants,” I blurted out, impertinently. “Topical only on the feet, but no oral or injected because it could damage the fibers in my muscles.”

“My - “

“Don’t apologize, you aren’t sorry,” I cut him off. “You are doing your job, as instructed, under threat of who knows what. Please, just apply the topical and give a small supply to Commander Urus for whoever is going to be bringing me food while they heal.” Hopefully he was feeling semi-gracious enough to do at least that much.

“Miss, I am not allowed to give you - “

“They did not ask that you give it to them,” Urus growled. “They asked that you give it to me. And last I was aware, I am responsible for all security regarding Master Arik’s property.” He glowered and held out a hand, demanding silently.

A tiny tin of analgesic was dropped in his paw, and I was whisked away fast enough to set every joint in my body on edge. Clenching my teeth, I managed to keep any indication of discomfort from escaping. Only a few minutes later, one of my guards was unlocking and about to inspect my quarters, only to stop short and salute before bowing deeply.

Ice trickled down my spine before she even spoke. “Master Arik, I - “

“No concern, no concern,” came the oily voice as my owner stepped out. “As much as I would love to have our little doll at the reception, we cannot have anyone that close, now can we?” Disregarding any objections he may have received, he stepped forward and leaned close to my face. “Mmm, the newest treatments are working, even this closely. Perfect, porcelain skin.” Standing abruptly, he faced Urus. “The inspections?”

“Nothing visible, even up close,” he confirmed. “Although they do have blisters to their feet. I request - “

Arik waved nonchalantly. “Yes. Please deal with that out of my sight. I cannot have anyone damaging my investment. And you were informed how?”

Urus tried to lie, but apparently I wasn’t the only one who had been biohacked. He grimaced and rubbed his head as he replied. “They told me before we ever reached the doctor, but the doctor confirmed it without prompting.”

Tutting to himself, Arik grabbed my chin and turned my face side to side, observing it. “You never did like this seamstress.”

“I do not put on my shoes, sir,” I replied carefully. “And I do not know who made them. I only know that my heels hurt.”

He seemed to be satisfied, standing straight again and releasing me. “A cool bath, a meal, and then rest. My doll is to have a day of rest tomorrow, as weather permits, as a reward. Commander, I want your best attending me, and everyone else outside this room tonight.” Glancing down at me, he murmured “They have made me very, very rich, and I won’t have anyone taking that away.”

Masterpost Next>>

#machine flesh #cyberpunk #humans are strange #body augment #bio hacking #fiction #science fiction #original sci fi #my fiction #my writing

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frogblast-the-ventcore · 6 months

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@tenebre-rosso-sangue broke containment on my Astralverse worldbuilding project.

Absolutely hilarious when I saw he'd posted it.

#astralverse #original sci fi #worldbuilding #curatedtumblr #containment breach

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toourfriendlyunderworld · 8 months

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youtube

Welcome to the Underworld Netscape, a digital haven void of government oversight. The year is 2157, in Beijing. Our hosts Val and Decker work to uncover the story behind the downfall of Avela Labs over 20 years ago. Through the actions of the renowned scientist Chengyun Tao and her ragtag group of friends, a technological crisis that threatens the core of society is narrowly avoided. A story of friends, dumplings, and a Chinchilla.

TO OUR FRIENDLY UNDERWORLD is a podcast created by Erica Yamamoto and Lucas Dul. It was edited and produced by Anastasia Dalia Sîrbu and Justina Marji, with Juno Overton as the voice of Chengyun.

"IMPLANT theme" written and composed by Anastasia Dalia Sîrbu

#TOFUpodcast #toourfriendlyunderworld #original story #original sci fi #Implant #sci fi fantasy

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juleteon · 1 year

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What types of bugs are used for what purposes? Are some ridden like horses (so transportation) while others are used for resources and some for pets? How is that determined?

Absolutely adore the idea of having a giant flightless beetle friend (specifically my fav, the japanese beetle), such amazing ideas and art!!

Oh, you have No idea what a question you have just asked... (cracks knuckles) Here we go...

Insects are incredibly wide-spread, but not often the domestication process is as successful. The domestication is often only possible with non-predator species, and to have enough generations to alter and selectively breed preferable traits.

But, the process of domestication of various species for different purposes has been implemented in many places across Terra Sonalis, the most common ones are described here:

Thanks to some cities being entirely constructed on trees or tree-tops, having familiars that help to transport both the rider and carry 'luggage' up and down safely has been a very important development. But, they do indeed have their limits, mostly when it comes to distance that isn't as vertical. Don't get me wrong, they will definitely save time travelling on land, but due to the high metabolism which requires frequent nectar breaks, it's more efficient to travel up or down a familiar, safe, blooming tree than across a forest with unexpected surprises and/or predators. For security measures, the people have chosen to prioritize moths with more bright and vivid colors, to mimic more unpleasant species to interact with for increased safety.

A relatively small critter, resembling a bee fly - Do I really need to explain why they made such good pets and companions? They've been bred to be fluffier and reduce in their wing span, they're bad at flights nowadays, but still use those for communication via friction. And, as omnivores, they're great at cleaning up leftovers.

Communities of river-valleys and wetlands have cultivated breeds of water-bugs to aid them with transportation across the in-land waters.

---

What all do have in common, is their limitations, and expenses for food and care. Which is why, with the progression and development of Alchemistry, instead of caring for the insects as companions - city folk have begun to turn to machines, inspired by the arthropod anatomies, to replace them. Powered by various complex engineering using fuels for heat or magnetic ores for electrical currents, these machines, while at first requiring an intensive planning and work to create and upkeep - gradually became more popular and efficient than farming lands. Travel by machines was not limited to certain climates, seasons, or environments. Their design did not discriminate against herbivore or carnivore. Structures inspired by swift predators that were untouchable to explore before - have now been studied and replicated. They could be adaptable and easy to upgrade if you had the means, and as the technological advancements became more contagious, the interest in generational breeding and farm-keeping had began to fall out of favor.

Yet, many still depended on their livestock for a living, and continue to upkeep the traditions and celebrate the animals that have aided them for centuries.

#Terra Sonalis #Insects #Bugs #Worldbuilding #Original story #original character #original worldbuilding #original writing #fantasy #original sci fi #Juleteon Art

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empress-violetlight · 1 year

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Spiral Empire - The Machina

The second of the two human factions in my original novel, tentatively called “The Spiral Empire”

It will probably help to read the prologue first, and probably my post on the protagonist species, the Chie

The Machina came about when I asked the question, what would the Borg be like if they were able to maintain their individuality, while still being part of a collective? The concept took on a life of its own from there, and neatly slotted into the Spiral Empire universe when I realized that a third “nation” would be useful from a narrative standpoint.

Origins

Another of the colony ships that survived the plunge through the Planet Nine wormhole found itself in a young solar system, with a hot, young sun only a few million years old. Unfortunately for them, this meant the ship was stranded in system with no planets yet, only planetesimals – chunks of matter that are yet to condense into planets. Think of it as like a solar system-wide asteroid belt. What the survivors had was a mostly functioning colony ship, still with enough resources to keep its crew and the passengers in cryo-sleep alive for the next 50 years or so, lots of metals, silicates, ices (including water ice), and other basic resources available if they could figure out a way to harvest them, and abundant solar energy. What they did not have was a planet on which to settle, and with the de-stabilization of the wormhole that spat them out, no way out of this solar system, other than taking the “long way”. That would be, finding a suitable target star within 4 light years, hoping there was a livable planet *there*, and setting out again.

The crew decided to awaken some experts from among the passengers. One of these experts was a roboticist and cyberneticist, Doctor Mary Calvin, who was awoken initially in order to build robots in order to help harvest asteroids. However, she came up with an ingenious, if extreme-sounding solution to maximize the efficiency of food, water, air, and other resources required to keep organic life alive: replace unessential living tissue with robotic limbs and implants. After all, a robotic leg you could “plug in” to use solar electricity directly is a more efficient use of energy than continuing to feed said leg.

(Mary’s name is derived from two famous women in science fiction, Mary Shelley, the author of “Frankenstein”, and Susan Calvin, the roboticst from Issac Asimov’s Robots stories)

Robotic replacements have other advantages too, like alleviating many of the health concerns that come with prolonged exposure to the zero-gravity environments the colonists found themselves in. A cybernetic heart wouldn’t degrade like an organic one. Calcium-leeched bones could be reinforced by metals. A robotic leg that ended in a more flexible, hand-like “foot” would be infinitely more useful that a flat, human foot that did little more than drag behind you.

As the first of the colonists’ new environments were hollowed out from, then built from, the larger planetisimals and more and more people were gradually awoken from cryo-sleep, Dr. Calvin’s advancements were adapted by more and more people. After about 200 years, almost every adult member of their society has been augmented to one degree or another, ranging from a simple foot replacement, to almost full-body cybernetics. “Human” was no longer an adequate term, so the people chose another – the Machina. (pronounced Ma-kee-na)

With their cybernetics solving a lot of the health problems imposed on the human body by zero-gravity, the Machina don’t even bother to spin most of their habitats for centrifugal force “gravity”. While their ship served as their first “home”, it wasn’t long before they hollowed out one of the larger planetesimals to serve as their first, purpose-designed habitat. They called it “Home One” (unless Disney gets bitchy about an obscure Star Wars reference), and subsequent habitats expanded out from there, though most are capable of independent movement, able to hide among the billions of planetesimals.

The Machina – Humanity +

Because space and time are actually aspects of the same phenomenon, as explained (a lot better than I can explain it!) in Albert Einstein’s Theory of Special Relativity, wormholes connect not just different spots in space, but in time as well. So while it’s been 500 years since leaving Earth for the Chie, it’s been only about 200 for the Machina (and 1000 for the Confederacy). There are actually some elderly Machina still alive who remember Earth. Despite the harshness of their solar system, however, most do not miss it.

Each Machina’s cybernetic implants are unique to the individual, with varying degrees of replacement depending upon a large number of factors, including their careers, personal preference, interests, etc. Almost all Machina have the following, however:

1. Implants directly in the brain, connecting each Machina to a solar system-wide internet. They also have at least one eye either replaced entirely with an implant, or equipped with an external “screen” that goes over the eye to facilitate access to the Net. Imputing commands or communication in the Net is second nature to Machina, and while in their own solar system, they spend nearly their entire waking lives “online”. However, this Net is not a hive mind. Each Machina is an individual, with their own choices, thoughts and ideas, and they are free to “go offline” whenever they choose (barring employment-related safety concerns, of course).

2. At the very least, organic feet are replaced with robotic substitutes that have the ability to either lay flat, like a normal foot, or stretch out in a hand-like configuration, acting as extra hands while in zero-g, or whenever they feel like it. Consequently, shoes are a thing of the past for Machina. Since only young children have their organic feet, Machina tend to see “normal” human feet as cute and/or childish. “Awww, they still have their baby feet!” is a phrase often used to annoy Chie and Confederates alike.

Many, however, go for full limb, or even majority body upgrades, and these aren’t necessarily humanoid in shape.

Many Machina have very redundant digestive systems – often just what is needed to keep the brain and necessary support organs (heart, lungs, circulatory system) alive, so they prefer soft, easily absorbed “food”, kind of like how Robocop lived on baby food.

Because of the flexibility their physical bodies can have, most Machina (outside of one significant group, which will be discussed in detail) think notions of gender are outdated. Many are nonbinary and bisexual, and often prefer they/them pronouns unless they say otherwise. Before getting their adult cybernetics, however, most do store their reproductive cells, be they eggs or sperm, for later use.

The Matrons

As flexible as cybernetics have made Machina life, there is one limitation imposed by human biology. Studies on the International Space Station in real life involving rats have suggested that mammals need gravity for embryos to successfully develop. For the Machina, this means that zero-g makes for an effective birth control, for those who even still have the parts required to worry about pregnancy in the first place. Population growth *has* to be carefully controlled when your entire population lives in space habitats regardless, but children still need to be born.

There were a few experiments early on with “uterine replicators” but all ended in failure. Unlike lower mammals, for reasons still poorly understood even at the Machina’s far greater scientific level than our present-day society, human pregnancies need to be carried by an actual, biological mother to be successful, at least until the point where the fetus can survive on its own outside the body (around 23 weeks pregnant at current technological levels, perhaps a bit earlier at the Machina’s levels). Regardless, it’s generally far healthier for the children’s physical and psychological development to develop for as close to full term as possible.

A special profession has thus developed in Machina society for the women who volunteer to forego extensive cybernetics in order to retain their ability to become pregnant, acting as surrogates for those who cannot, and who usually train as midwives, obstetricians, and neonatologists.

They are the Matrons, and they are perhaps THE most highly respected people in Machina society. Even the Deus Ex, the leader of their people, takes pause when a Matron speaks, as they are the ones literally keeping their society alive.

To be a Matron is not an easy calling. It requires a strong physical body, an intelligent mind, and greater biological resources than those used by most adult Machina. They’re also mostly confined to the few space stations that the Machina bother to spin for artificial gravity. They’re among the nicest habitats in the Machina solar system, but for a people that greatly values the freedom their literally space-farring society is used to, the stations can feel stiffening. They also begin their careers far earlier than most Machina, who tend to enjoy extended educational years well into their twenties. Novice Matrons, in contrast, usually have their first pregnancy at between 16/17, and have one every two years (give or take) until menopause. All the while, most also train to be medical doctors.

More experienced Matrons (late 20s/early 30s) may even volunteer for alternating single and multiple pregnancies (usually no more than “twins”, though genetically unrelated).

There are some perks to the profession, like a Matron enjoys real food, gets to live most of her life in gravity and among plants (the stations where they live usually double as agricultural stations as well), and unlike the “baby lottery” most other Machina families who want children sign up for, is guaranteed the right to have a child of her own should she desire one (and most do).

Retired Matrons are known as Matriarchs, and usually continue to support their younger compatriots as doctors, mentors and caregivers well into their elder years. Matrons who need to “retire” early from the pregnancy part of the profession for health reasons can either stay in the profession as healthcare providers only, or can retrain for another. One such former Matron, known as Dee, became the Communications Officer and First Mate aboard the Spiral Empire Explorer ship, the RRS Beagle.

While the genetic parents of the children take over their care after birth, Matrons often stay in touch with those families, becoming like a beloved Aunt to the children they once carried. Considering young children usually stay on the same space stations their Matrons live on during their baby and toddler years, it’s usually easy to stay in touch. Some Matrons may alternatively work as Early Years teachers instead of doctors, caring for the children they, or their collegues, gave birth to while their parents work at other professions. It’s a right of passage for a Machina child’s Matron, as well as their parents, to be present they get their first set of cybernetic feet. Losing their “Baby Feet” is a celebrated moment in Machina life.

(I created the Matrons as not only a practical solution for a major problem that a space-farring society would have, but also as a response to dystopia sci fi where women are abused and enslaved for their reproductive abilities. Isn’t it better to imagine a world where motherhood is respected and honoured, while *not* demonizing those who choose to not have children? As it should be in real life.)

Machina Culture and Government

Machina seem a bit contradictory in that they do value individual choice very highly, but at the same time, they realize the need to work together to ensure their survival. Their mindset is usually along the lines of "if it doesn't hurt others, it's okay", but they have no tolerance for actions that do cause harm.

With their relatively small population (still only a few million by the time of the present day of the novel), they simply can’t afford to tolerate racism, sexism, homophobia, transphobia, ableism, ageism or any other idiocies that frankly, are completely useless and take energy away from far more pressing issues, like ensuring their stations don’t leak atmosphere out into space. Luckily, due to the tolerant and information-based nature of their society, such ills aren’t really more than chapters in history textbooks for them.

Hoarding necessary resources is likewise severely frowned upon. There are no Machina companies or people laying sole claim to needed asteroids. It’s understood that the resources belong to the people and will be used for the people’s benefit.

Likewise, outright laziness is also not tolerated. Everyone needs to contribute to society in some way. If an otherwise healthy adult is not contributing, they’re assessed to figure out what the problem is and supported. But if someone just outright refuses to better themselves, well, it’s harsh, but they’ll probably end up having a little accident involving an airlock.

Again, this is so rare that it’s more a textbook “what if” scenario than something that actually happens.

Spreading false information/conspiracy theories/harmful ideologies is likewise severely frowned upon. If those lies are proven to have hurt another, the punishment for the perpetrators is to be cut off from the society-wide internet, temporarily for a first offence, permanently for more serious occurrences. Persistent, unapologetic perpetrators are also likely to meet the outside of an airlock.

Due to their cranial computers and the “almost always online” nature of their society, the Machina have a luxury that no other human society has been able to achieve: they have complete direct democracy for their governing system.

Every adult individual has the ability and means to vote on any issue, and an 80% consensus must be reached for a new law, for example, to be passed.

When a new law is being discussed, a "pop up" is sent to every person online, with information on the issue. The Machina then has a few days to research and decide, or they can "click" "abstain". Still, since they know an issue will keep popping up until that 80% of the population consensus is reached, one way or the other, most do give issues their attention.

Likewise, any Machina can bring up a concern in a public forum.

They therefore have a very politically active and well-informed population.

The Machina’s “leader” is more of a referee, whose job it is to manage the flow of information and ensure the will of the people is followed. They’re also their culture’s most prominent representative to outsiders (so they’re responsible for relations between the Machina, and the Chie and Confederacy). They’re given the title “Deus Ex” (from the expression “deux ex machina”, a Latin term for “ghost” or “god in the machine”, meaning a plot device whereby a seemingly unsolvable problem in a story is suddenly and abruptly resolved by an unexpected and unlikely occurrence. They chose the title purely because of the pun.

Deus Ex serve until they are either voted out by the populace or they retire from the position.

There are no set terms. A Deus Ex who has only been in office for a month can be gotten rid of if they’re deemed incompetent. Likewise, one that’s good at their job can stay there for decades.

The current Deus Ex has been in office long enough to have been a guest at the Spiral Empress Xelarra’s coronation. His spine, neck and head are the only human parts left of him (similar to the Borg Queen in Star Trek: First Contact), and he can “plug in” to different robotic bodies, his favourite being a “spider centaur” look. He is an expert diplomat, and has quite the crush on the Spiral Empress, having great admiration for her intelligence and tenacity. He’s terrified of her husband though, refusing to believe the Chie Grand Admiral is dead (“unless I see his cold, dead corpse at my feet, he’s still out there!”)

Machina Relationships with the other Factions

As I described in my post on the Chie, the Machina and Chie get along pretty well. Both have similar “we’re all on the same ship” mentalities, and Chie tend to think the Machina’s cybernetics are awesome. There’s quite a bit of overlap and cooperation between the two cultures.

The Deus Ex himself would not be adverse to a “personal union” between the Machina and Spiral Empire (more specifically, between himself and the Empress), but knows this is (regrettably) just wishful thinking on his part. He greatly values Empress Xelarra’s friendship regardless.

While the Machina don’t have the resources to fund an Explorer program themselves, they support their Chie allies with personnel and technology (the Explorer ships’ advanced sensor systems are of Machina design). Currently, both the Chie and the Machina’s systems’ wormholes exit into Confederacy-controlled space. If they want to maintain contact with each other, they have no choice but to play nice with the Confederacy.

The Machina have little contact with the Spiral Empire’s alien allies (the Dragons and the Tripods) just yet.

When it comes to the Confederacy, the Machina are far more hostile, and with good reason. The Confederacy once tried to take over the Machina solar system by force, as a part of the Confederacy’s belief in their “manifest destiny” to reunite humanity (under their own banner, of course), despite the fact they barely consider the Machina human. The Deus Ex at the time (the direct predecessor of the current one) was able to scare them off by destroying the Confederate flagship with an asteroid defense laser. The battle resulted in the laser’s destruction as well, and damage to Home One, but the Confederacy got the hint and left.

After that, the Machina engaged in cautious trade with the Confederacy, if only to maintain access to the other side of the wormhole. They overcharge them for an asteroid’s worth of metal, for example, in return for “luxury” planetside goods they otherwise wouldn’t have access to. However, the Machina are wise enough to ensure they do not become dependent upon trade, from either their would-be enemies or their friends, carefully managing their population to make sure they can always support themselves.

As a result of the skirmish with the Confederates, the current Deus Ex formed a small, special forces group to protect his people. They are the Four Lions, and report directly to him, with the aim to preventing both outside and inside threats to the Machina people as a whole before they become big problems. They’re known by the code names “The Samurai”, “The Ninja”, “The Soldier”, and “The Cyborg”. (my husband’s OCs. I’ll develop them more as necessary).

There used to be a Fifth Lion, just called the Destroyer (originally we called him “The Dalek” due to his violent, “exterminate everything” attitude. That's obviously going to have to be changed) who's function was simply to destroy indiscriminately, and who was insanely hateful of the entire universe. He proved just too dangerous, so the Deus Ex had his cybernetics removed. Now he's just a brain in a jar, who the Deus Ex hopes he'll never have to use again.

Knowledge of the Lions wasn’t well-known to begin with, even with the system-wide internet and the general openness of Machina society, there are still some secrets. Records were scrubbed of the fifth one, with any rumours of his existence being later dismissed as an example of the Mandela Effect by most of the populace.

If the Chie ever succeed in finding an alternate wormhole to Machina space, they’ll seriously consider simply cutting off access to the current route, for their own safely and independence as a society.

Notable Machina (few right now. This list will probably grow as I get more into the story)

Dr. Mary Calvin - the original colonist and roboticist who invented the first cybernetics widely adopted by the people of the Machina solar system. Later considered the first Deus EX.

- Named after Mary Shelly and Dr. Susan Calvin, as noted above.

The Previous Deus Ex - Defended his people against a Confederate invasion by “firing my laser!”

The Deus Ex - Current “leader” (more mediator) of the Machina.

- Inspired by Grand Admiral Osvald Teshik, the cyborg Grand Admiral who was tragically murdered by the Rebels after the Battle of Endor in Star Wars: Legends, with further inspiration from the post Episode I version of Darth Maul, and the Borg Queen from Star Trek: First Contact)

Dee - Communications Officer and First Mate of the Explorer ship, the RRS Beagle

- Originally a Zeltron character of the same name imagined for my Star Wars AU, inspired partly by Deliah Blue from the Star Wars Legacy comics. I’m now thinking of her Star Wars version as one of the Augments from Tattooine (like in The Book of Boba Fett) instead.

Questions about the Matrons/Machina (thanks to my writing discord, The Write Way!):

Question (I hope I have understood all this correctly): so the matrons also have physical (or other) prerequisites that enable them to take on the role in the first place. Right? So what if. A person fulfils these prerequisites but does not want to take on the role? Because matrons are highly respected and society needs them. But what if an individual says, "no, guys I don't want that". Is this simply accepted or is there a possible repercussion for the person (in society as a whole or only in the immediate vicinity).

A: Being a Matron is an entirely optional profession. Girls that show the right physical traits (a healthy, functional reproductive system) usually have the option recommended to them, but ultimately, it’s their decision. Nobody is ever forced into anything.

Q: What if a matron gets sick or has an accident and she is pregnant. Is the child saved or is she saved? Is there a rule or is it decided according to who has a better chance of survival?

A: Accidents/illness when a Matron is pregnant are treated on a case-by-case basis. In early pregnancy, the Matron's life has priority, and the potential parents are well aware of this. With late pregnancy accidents/illnesses, obviously they try to save both if possible, but again, the advice of the medical experts is what ultimately makes the call.

Q: What happens when a matron loses children?

A: If a Matron suffers a pregnancy loss, she is of course given the best available healthcare (both physical and mental). It’s up to her if she wants to continue in that part of the profession. If not, they’re treated the same as a retired Matron, given the choice to stay and support their colleagues, or train for something else.

Q: What if children are born with disabilities?

A: If a child's born with a physical disability, Machina medicine is usually able to treat it. Mental disabilities are likewise fully supported -- depression was a common ailment early in their history (being stuck in space habitats with little nature can do that), but a cultural mindset that everyone was valuable and worthwhile did a lot to alleviate that. It's for that same mentality that neurodiversity is supported. Since making contact with the Chie, neurodiverse Machina have even more support and acceptance. Matrons are never blamed for children’s disabilities, unless it has been proven that she did something during her pregnancy to cause it, like drug abuse (it’s more a textbook what if scenario than anything that has actually happened). In that case, she will not be allowed to become pregnant again until she has gone through rehabilitation. Considering Matrons are surrogates, this is easy to enforce.

Q: What about body dismorphia? Is there such a thing?

A: Body dismorphia isn't so much of a thing in Machina society as a whole, not when robotic parts are interchangeable and replaceable. Some Machina even have multiple "sets" of robotic limbs for different occasions. For example, one character, the Deus Ex, has a spider-like robotic lower half which he prefers, but he can switch to a more humanoid pair of legs when the occasion arises (like if he needs to go in buildings designed for more human proportions). Matrons must have roughly humanoid proportions to do their jobs, but their limbs can be as varied as other Machina.

Q: What if someone says I want to look like a "human"? Like an Ariel the Mermaid?

A: If someone wants to "look human", by all means. "Vanilla" robotics are available. That's one of the great things about Machina society -- they're so accepting of individual choice. Conversely, they can look like a "mermaid" if they want. Or like a squid, or anything else the human brain (with the assistance of their cranial computers) can adapt to, and the human brain is quite adaptable.

Q: Are phantom pains in the removed body parts a big concern?

A: Phantom pain is usually suppressed by the Machina's brain computers (the same computers that allow them to connect to their Internet).

Q: Is there a mortality rate? So infections, or the new body parts being rejected?

A: Mortality rates are so miniscule as to be practically non-existent. Machina are at a much higher technological level than RL humans, and have had two centuries to work out the kinks of cybernetics by the present day of the novel.

Q: How do Machina deal with other illnesses?

A: Machina treat air or waterborne illnesses and other communicable diseases with the utmost seriousness. There’s no room to fool around when everyone relies on the same limited air and water (which must be harvested from iceroids, and everything is as recycled as much as possible). When something like COVID or a bad influenza outbreak has the potential to literally cause their extinction, they do NOT tolerate anything like anti-maskers. Infected areas are quarantined immediately. Air and water filters and other cleaning systems likewise do a lot to reduce infections and kill off pathogens.

#Spiral Empire #The Machina #if anyone has any other questions just send me an Ask!#original Sci Fi

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ahungeringknife · 7 months

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Repostober 2

Me, a certified robot fucker taking a semi horror prompt and writing some robot fucker shit about it instead? Couldn't be! There is no actual robot fucking in this so sorry but Josh and Ryan def got up to some shit in my daydreams oops

The first patchwork Josh met was named Alan when he was twelve. He’d been assigned to his family by the government same as most families and he was Josh’s best friend. Alan looked like an older teenager with one brown and one pink eye and clearly mechanical hands. His hair was the same color as his pink eye and was styled in the fashion of the decade. Despite being a patchwork Josh thought Alan was the coolest guy ever and Alan was around all the time always ready to do whatever Josh wanted to do and talk about what worried him. A constant companion for the difficult task of being a teenager in a country without a lot of teenagers.

By the time Josh graduated college he’d aged out of needing Alan. He had other friends and Alan was returned to the government. Josh missed him but knew it was always coming. Like when his dog had died. His family had had a mock funeral for Alan when Josh had been on winter break as a sophomore in college and his parents had returned him. It made the feelings easier to deal with that Alan was dead and not just somewhere else.

The next patchwork Josh met was in his late thirties. He’d never married and his social worker was concerned he didn’t have a partner and wasn’t really looking. Josh never claimed to be asexual and his lack of contribution made Jenna worried about him. He just liked being by himself mostly and other humans could be so exhausting. Especially in his work. Retail was hell. So Jenna had had him fill out a form for a patchwork and one day after work there was a knock at the door.

He wasn’t expecting anything really. Usually patchworks were reserved for families or people trying to start families like his own parents. They weren’t sent out to single people. Especially not queer men. So he was surprised when he answered the door to green and blue eyes and a blue fringe. “Hello, I’m Ryan,” the patchwork said and offered Josh his hand to shake. Josh just stared at him for a second before good manners kicked in and he shook Ryan’s hand. He was handsome and Josh realized was exactly his type. He’d fucking filled out a form about it of course he was Josh’s type!

“Josh Natter,” he said.

“It’s so great to finally meet you. Can I come in?”

“Oh- of course,” Josh opened the door further and looked at Ryan’s hands. Alan had been a family unit so was allowed to look more like a robot. Ryan’s hands were perfectly people like.

“Did no one call ahead?”

Josh thought about the calls he’d screened the last few days with a grimace. “They did, I just didn’t pick up. I was busy,” he lied.

“No problem. Here, this is for you,” and he pulled a folder out of the satchel he had and handed it to Josh. “Take a look at it, please.”

Josh took it and sat on the couch. Ryan made himself comfortably in the lounge chair. He made an appropriate surprised sound of delight when the leg part kicked out so he could recline. Josh hated to admit it was pretty endearing. He read over the documents while some talk show played on the TV. It was basically telling him what was expected with Ryan and if he didn’t participate within five years he’d be fined a not insignificant amount. If he no longer wished to participate Ryan would leave and Josh’s BLI would be reduced to that of a college student. He couldn’t afford his current home with his part time retail job and that rate of basic income. It also outlined what he could and couldn’t do to Ryan and if he was found to have damaged Ryan he’d be fined or face jail time.

He rubbed the back of his neck as he finished reading. He shouldn’t have let Jenna convince him to fill out the form. Of course, contribution didn’t include raising. He was friends with plenty of people who’d been raised by the state. It hadn’t been torture and no one came out any less fucked up than those raised by actual parents. If anything having patchwork parents was probably better. Patchworks couldn’t make mistakes.

Josh put the papers down and just looked at the TV. “Need to talk about it?” Ryan said in a way that was very similar to how Alan used to ask when Josh was having some Very Big feelings as a teenager.

Josh looked over at Ryan and he was so pretty. He was sure some government intern had had to investigate his porn history to go with him filling out the questionnaire to make Ryan his Type. “You’re real cute,” he said.

Ryan’s lips moved in a shy smile. “Thanks.”

“But I’m not attracted to you at all,” Josh got up and Ryan frowned at him. He put the folder on the coffee table. “It’s late. Come help me make dinner,” and he went into the kitchen. Ryan followed slowly behind him, unsure how to handle this. Josh didn’t know what he expected. He had enough sense of self worth to not just fuck a stranger as soon as he met him. Josh didn’t call himself asexual but he wasn’t really interested in people until he got to know them. Then the horny thoughts were constant and distracting just like any allosexual.

“You want me to help you make dinner?” Ryan asked, confused, standing on the edge of the kitchen.

“Yeap,” Josh said taking stuff out of the fridge. He wanted something for comfort. Box mac and cheese with spicy sausage and spinach. Maybe some biscuits out of a tin. Yeah. That sounded great. He looked over when Ryan didn’t move, his mismatched eyes looked so confused. Josh had never seen a patchwork so out of their element. “Well?”

“This is not… how I expected it to go,” Ryan said slowly.

Josh grimaced. “So what I’m hearing is other men are more desperate than I am,” he put everything in the fridge on the counter and went digging for a pan to wilt the spinach and another to boil the macaroni.

“Most people without families want to complete their contribution to society quickly. So yes,” Ryan said.

Josh shrugged. “I’m just not interested. So make yourself interesting,” he said.

Ryan blinked at him. “Huh. Okay I guess,” and he stepped into the kitchen to help Josh with dinner.

#writeblr #writblr #original fiction #original character #scifi #original sci fi #original ccharacters #robots #androids #android #robot #repostober

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starklyscifi · 7 months

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A Complicated Family History

(A flash fiction story by EJ Stark)

Edna has never been to Earth but this summer she got insanely lucky and snagged one of the 2,000 annual visitor permits. She’s been putting into that draw for five years, ever since she finished university, and this year she finally got lucky.

She doesn’t feel lucky. Her visitation slot is “October 13-17” rather than a highly coveted summertime slot. It’s just her luck to get a little bit lucky but not lucky enough. She’s been pouting the entire shuttle ride from Luna 2. She had done her best to be grateful to visit Earth, like everyone told her she should be, but she used up all her gratefulness on the long interplanetary shuttle from Mars.

Her sour mood when she landed at Boston Spaceport matched her up rather well to deal with the surly customs officer who tried to accuse her of faking a visitation permit. On her way through the gate afterwards, she heard him saying the same thing so apparently he said it to all the pretty girls.

Every negative thought Edna had ever had in her entire life vanished the moment she stepped out of the spaceport. It turned out the rumors where turn, stimulated atmosphere was nothing compared to the real thing. But it was the crisp blue sky and the colorful trees that filled Edna with a happiness she could not name.

She was glad she had not gotten a “coveted” summertime slot.

She stood in the fresh fall air and stared at the leaves until a man with a suitcase bumped into her and gave her a dirty look.

It took forever to find the rental car desk, down two floors and in a different building from the main spaceport. Edna wasn’t entirely glad to have found it, having to deal with an uppity Earther who grumbled under his breath about “tourist season.” He wanted to deny her a rental car because she had a Martian drivers license, but finally acquiesced. He did insist on Edna buying their insurance.

“We don’t accept Mars insurance. You’ll have to buy our cover.”

Edna rolled her eyes but she paid the exorbitant price for car insurance, glad that her uncle had given her “a little spending cash” for the trip. It was not a little cash, but Uncle Edward was forever handing out large sums of money that no one was quite sure where they came from. It was best not to ask questions.

She got in the car and followed the GPS out of the city, only getting turned around twice. She stopped for a coffee at a local chain on the outside of Boston and finally understood the idea of pumpkin flavored coffee for the first time in her life. And also why her mother had insisted that she pack at least two warm sweaters. She hadn't been sure how much she could trust her mother's memories of Earth. Her mother hadn't been since she was fifteen, when the visa restrictions were brought in. And she had never been to New England.

Supposedly, Edna’s great grandmother had lived just outside Boston. Even though Edna knew all the reasons her family had been among the first wave of immigrants to Red Rock - economic downturn, climate catastrophe, lack of opportunities - she could only imagine that the real reason great Grandma Ellie was willing to leave was because no one told her there was no autumn on Mars.

The road got smaller and the traffic fell away. Edna found herself gripping the steering wheel tighter. She had never been so far away from another human. The dome cities of Mars were impressive, but they never left any elbow room for their citizens.

It had been a full fifteen minutes since she had seen another car.

And then twenty.

And then an hour.

The road dwindled first to pavement with no markings then to gravel and now to dirt.

The radio fizzled out. She couldn’t get anything but static and her device didn’t have any service. She had downloaded the route to the old family home (supposed family home, no one in her family was quite sure where Ellie had lived and any requests for government files had met a mountain of red tape and uninterested bureaucrats (Martians were not encouraged to focus on their earthly past)).

She’d never been somewhere without Internet before.

The thought sent panic climbing up her throat, twisting into a knot. She was about to pull the car over when the GPS announced she had arrived and promptly died.

There was a thin driveway that led into the trees, disappearing between oak trees with red and orange leaves.

Edna tried to focus on the brilliance of the colors but the creeping feeling at the back of her neck would let her. She stopped and listened and heard nothing but wind. It made her want to run. Looking into the trees yielded nothing but the certainty that something was hiding in the woods.

Finally, she stumbled into a clearing.

She found an old house with a (non-rusty) car parked out front and smoke curling from the chimney. It was a quaint New England fall scene, but Edna couldn’t appreciate it because for some reason she hadn’t considered the possibility that someone might be living here. It was so far out in the woods, away from people, that the thought had never crossed her mind even back on Mars when she had simply been looking at it on a map.

She hesitated at the edge of the woods, unwilling to come face to face with some Earther who resented her being there.

A twig snapped somewhere in the forest behind her. She was running to the porch of the old house before she knew what she was doing. She knocked on the door with a shaky hand.

A floorboard creaked. The doorknob turned.

It was like looking in a mirror, at a much older but still very much alive version of herself.

“Great grandma Ellie?”

Ellie sighed. “I suppose it was only a matter of time before a curious descendant showed up.”

It did explain why she had never been able to find great Grandma Ellie's grave.

#flash fiction #writing #writers on tumblr #writblr #writeblr #writing community #sci fi #original sci fi #original fiction #fiction #short story #flash fiction friday

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bixels · 2 months

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I watched Starship Troopers tonight.

#personal #dumb #my art #immediately after finishing i was pumped to watch some analysis vids on it #cuz i heard a lot of the drama about the original author being a pro military fascist and the director going “fuck that” and making a satir #scrolling through youtube search results was not promising. lots of male film buffs i would Not trust even on a first glance.#“The Critical Drinker” (pfp of a bearded man drinking alcohol) lol.#and then I saw cinemawins did a video on it and was like oh nice i haven't seen his stuff in a while but he's a pretty leftist creator #scrolled through the comments #second panel face #this sucks i'm outta here.#just leagues and leagues and leagues of anime pfps and right leaning people dogpiling on him for “not understanding what fascism is”#idk it's pretty alien and weird to me watching this movie and going “wow yeah that was pretty obvious huh” like literally the from opening #to the teacher preaching militance and only giving voting rights to “those who serve their nation first and earn it”#and then seeing droves of people online going #WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? It's not anti-fascist and even if it was it's #the director's fault for desecrating heinlein's incredible sci-fi epic vision. ermm media literacy is dead.

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dummy-dot-exe · 8 months

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by なまにくATK@Nitroplus在籍@namaniku_ATK

#Namaniku Atk #Original #robot girl #sci-fi

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canyouhearthelight · 1 year

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The Miys, Epilogue

Yep. You read that right - this is it. At least for now.... I made the decision to end the journey when the journey actually stopped. Including the fact that it stopped very abruptly.

Do not skip: Content/Trigger Warning for gore, blood, and injuries at the beginning of this chapter. There is a line of three asterisks (***) to denote where that ends. I am not kidding, I had to revoke a beta-reader’s access to the master doc until I wrote the rest, out of concern.

I cannot thank everyone enough for this wild, wild ride: @baelpenrose for all your moral and written support (and for the part of this chapter I just had to warn about!), @charlylimph-blog for being my third sister essentially, @drbibliophile, @quantumized-insanity, @werewolf2578, @lavcircuts, @janeshadow, @generalperfectionbread, @mustachebatschaos, @dierotenixe, @1978sah, and anyone else I may have missed. Thank you!

I came to, gasping. Smoke filled my nostrils, and my eyes refused to see. Panic filled me and I reached for my face even as I shouted hoarsely for my family. Only one hand would obey me, but it was enough to feel the sticky texture of blood glueing my eyes shut.

I worked to open my eyes, still shouting and straining my ears for anything. Finally, I could open my eyes and sweep the ruins of the bridge.

Maverick’s face lay in ruins, blood dripping down both sides, his chest caved in by the impact as he slumped over the controls that had smashed in his ribs. Beside him, my sister, teeth clenched in defiance, horrifyingly small in the death that had actually claimed her. I looked around, my muscles screaming as I clawed, frantically, at my restraints.

Scrambling out from under the table did not reveal anything better. Arthur had apparently managed to free himself shortly before I’d woken, but he had succumbed to his wounds trying to get to our pilots, and I could see the blood around his mouth, the way the impact had destroyed…

Charly…oh gods, Charly was. Charly’s face. Her spine was…it was wracked, twistingly broken, and she’d obviously died before waking. I tried to crawl towards where Grey had been strapped in, or Hunyh, but…my legs weren’t…

I screamed, coughing up more blood, trying to…

Some of the ship’s damaged hull screamed for me. Some of it crumbled, and I saw two more of my colleague’s mangled bodies come into view as their seats twisted around beneath the already ruined deck. That was Eino…I couldn’t even recognize the other’s face beneath the mask of blood, but based on the build, maybe, maybe Hunyh?

Parvati…

Xiomara had died next to Parvati, and seeing the way Parvati had gone was probably the bitterest. Her last act had been to scrawl on the walls something, some little symbol I wished I could recognize, above where she and Xiomara lay.

I couldn’t see Pranav and Alice, but there was…it was quiet, and my vision was starting to tunnel. I tried screaming one more time, found myself coughing, choking on the blood from where my throat had torn. Convulsions wracked my body, pain surging from limbs that were broken -

***

“Sophia!” a voice shouted. “Sophia!”

I woke, gasping for air like I had been drowning. The pain was a phantom sensation, and I started sobbing when I saw the person shaking me.

Maverick, eyes wide, hands firm but gentle on my shoulders, slumped in relief. “It was a nightmare, love. You were screaming.”

The tension left my body and I rested my forehead on his perfectly intact chest, feeling his hear beating strongly against my cheek. “I thought they had gone,” I admitted. “I haven’t had one in years.”

“It’s okay,” he assured me, pulling me onto his lap. “We’re okay. We’re here, we made it.”

“Conor isn’t here.” Damn the tears and the sniff that betrayed me.

Mav squeezed me tighter. “Love, he’s staying with the children, you know that. It’s just for a month, then he’ll be back. They turn five soon - “

“I know,” I sulked. “Then they can come stay with us when it’s his time to keep them.”

“And he can stay here,” Maverick finished. “You fully supported the proposal when Hannah and Antoine came to you about it.”

I rubbed my forehead and mentally cursed myself. “How was I supposed to know that Conor would be one of the first fathers?”

“Two more weeks, then he’s back for a month,” Maverick repeated. “And it’s not like we never see him around or have meals with him.”

Didn’t make me any happier about the situation, but he was right. Despite what could charitably be called a rough start, the colony had been very stable after the first five years. The Council - at the time in a state of peaceful transition while roles were voted on and handed off - had agreed to slowly start allowing children, but with one caveat. Due to the need for genetic diversity, and to provide stability, they would live in their own quarters, later to be shared with their siblings, and their parents would come to them until they started school. Once school started, all parents were required to live as close as possible to where education would take place, and the children essentially lived with both families as they saw fit.

In theory. Conor’s twin girls were some of the colony’s eldest children, and fortunately we got along very well with their mother and her wife, who lived nearby anyway. Even officially retired, a part of me was holding my breath to see how the parents who had to relocate handled things.

“Those girls had better be glad they’re cute,” I grumbled, snuggling in to try to get some more sleep before my shift started.

Several restless hours of dozing later, I felt my jaw pop as I yawned my way into the still-rebuilding Archives. A precious cup of high octane tea in one hand, a bundle of thick paper in the other, I found my alcove and moved the light closer. Great, more medical papers, I sighed to myself. Having good penmanship had its ups and downs, the current ‘down’ being that I mostly got stuck transcribing essential documents that were less interesting than watching moss grow.

There hadn’t been time to commit all of the Archives to crystal, and on a planet with humidity both above and below ground, there were entirely too many documents that would be lost to the environment without transcription. The paper we were using was made from the fibers of the stonevine - the vine Teeth had brought to our attention for how hard its sap cured once boiled. It had taken several attempts, but the resulting paper was incredibly waterproof and actually required the letters to be etched into it to take any sort of pigment. However, once anything was written on it, there was no way to destroy the document short of grinding it into a new pulp.

Unfortunately, that meant anyone copying the documents needed a very steady hand and impeccably legible handwriting, because you only got one shot at it. Everything was in the database, but those last several months of Eko-mari interference had reinforced the need for hard copies of everything. And so, my retirement from the Council had led to six shifts per week transcribing very important and very boring documents.

A harsh swear hissed in my direction, snapping my head up in confusion. I barely had time to make out a head of wild brown hair attached to a young adult with an odd gait, practically dragging a toddler behind her. “Teeth…” I ventured hesitantly.

They froze in their tracks, and the little boy squealed before running over to me on stubby legs. Slowly, Teeth turned to face me, nose wrinkled in embarrassment. “Hi, Aunt Sophia.”

“PHEE!” the little boy screeched, climbing into my lap while I deftly moved the etching pen out of his sticky reach. “Sibby was noddy,” he assured me in the special loud whisper only managed by small children and drunks.

“I figured bud,” I muttered before turning my attention back. “I can’t imagine that the child of two queens is here on community service, not to mention that Siu writes better than you do.” I nodded to the boy who I was trying to keep the old papers away from. “What’s up?”

Surrendering, they came to sit across from me, gently taking the papers from my hand before their little brother could. “I was scaling the Vault - “

“Which you know you aren’t supposed to do,” I added.

“Which I have been told is dangerous,” they corrected. “And Siu saw me.”

I bit my tongue but scanned him for injuries. Scraped knees, but that was about as normal to him as breathing. Kid was a klutz, bless him.

When I nodded, Teeth kept going. “I thought he was with Queen Mum, but he was with his daycare class, on a field trip, and… The kids tried to imitate me.”

“Since you aren’t, you know, dead, I’m assuming the adults stopped anything tragic.”

“Miss Mona said we couldn’t climb,” Siu pouted at me.

“And they all started crying,” Teeth finished in a huff. “Busted by thirty six kids and four adults. All of my parents knew within an hour.”

I whirled a finger around to indicate the Archives, before swooping it in to boop my nephew’s cheek. “Doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

“Penmanship practice,” they groaned, dropping their head on their organic arm in a huff. “With an etching pen and everything.”

I thought about it for a second. “Simon’s idea?”

“Who else?” they despaired. Being twenty five may have given Teeth more experience, but it had also solidified them into a very expressive person that borderlined on teenage dramatics when it mattered the least.

I sighed. “Okay. You can practice here, but go get a glass slate and some markers for Siu. Otherwise he’ll get bored.”

“It’s only for a couple hours,” they swore, attitude suddenly changing. “Mom will be here on her lunch to come get him.” Springing to their feet, they took off to request one of the panes we used to conserve paper when people were first learning new alphabets.

“Swindled,” I told Siu very seriously. “Your sibling has swindled me again.”

“Fucking duh,” he giggled cheerfully.

Gaping for a second, I ground my teeth before shouting. “TEETH!”

Three hours and some exasperated promises from Charly - who was admirably keeping her laughter at bay - Siu was shrieking with laughter at the promise of swimming lessons with Mummy, and Teeth was working on a glass slate to replicate my cursive writing.

“This is so small,” they complained. “How do you do this?”

“Same way you are,” I answered without looking up. Hematology extracts for the win - I could barely spell half of these words. “Practice.”

“You could have written it bigger.”

“I did.” Demonstrating, I took a scrap of stonevine paper, etched a few words in it, washed in the ink, then turned it towards them. “See?” The only person I knew who naturally wrote smaller than me was Tyche - the largest letter on my paper was a quarter of an inch. Most were right at an eighth.

“Bitching has been retracted.”

“Besides, cheer up,” I continued. “I just heard today that Xale and Brol are coming to visit soon. Siu’s never met Xale, has he?”

The felt pen squeaked loudly as Teeth’s arm jerked. “How did you hear this before me?” they demanded.

“Xale wanted it to be a surprise,” I assured. “But you seem like you could use the good news. They should be here in time for his birthday.”

They paused mid-wipe as they erased the streak. “Do you think his genetic parents will show up?” they asked quietly.

I shrugged, trying to look lighter than I felt. “They relinquished any custody of their material, neither felt confident that they could raise a child. As far as who Siu’s parents are, he’s your human brother, being co-raised by Charly and Nixe, just like you.”

They relaxed a fraction. “Then he should love his big sister as much as I do. Will Kelly and Mati be there?” Teeth loved their little brother, but loved their ‘cousins’ almost as much, and made a point to play with them, even when Conor wasn’t the custodial parent.

“Their moms are all for it,” I assured. “The girls are the only kids on their side right now, and no one wants them to feel left out.”

“Good,” they nodded firmly. “Family is important.”

“Preaching to the choir,” I pointed at myself. “You may be the only person I know who has a bigger family than I do.”

“The outer caverns are almost complete,” they threw out, changing topic. “Mom is excited, because one of the caverns is going to be a new park.”

“Botanical lab,” I corrected. “Technically.”

“Interactive lab, which is the same thing as a park,” Teeth rebutted. “And you promised.”

“I don’t have any say, I told you that.”

“But you promised me you would at least talk to them…”

“I know, but are you sure? Siu’s already - “

“Aunt Sophia, you promised,” they pressed. “Mom and Mum will listen to you, especially when Simon already agrees with us…”

“Have you even one hundred percent decided - “

“Poodle collie mix,” they bounced triumphantly, knowing they’d won. “They shed less, they are incredibly smart, and they are gentle, so Siu and his kitten will be fine.”

I rubbed my forehead in mock frustration, secretly very proud of how far they had thought this through. “I can’t even argue about responsibility. I’ve seen you with the kids, recent blunder included.”

“Look, I - wait, what?”

I set my etching pen down and started counting off on my fingers, getting a small laugh out of them. “You made a point to do it when you thought you wouldn’t be seen, but especially when you thought Siu wouldn’t see you. No one got hurt, so you clearly came right down before any of the kids could actually try. And you brought Siu with you today, to make sure you knew where he was and that he wasn’t trying to climb a rock wall.” I turned my glance to them. “Plus, you were very adamant that when Xale gets their kitten, Siu gets one, too, because he misses Mac.” Poor guy had barely survived the crash - excuse me, ‘high velocity landing’ - but even then, old age caught up a couple years later.

“You know, you could still get a kitten, too,” Teeth pointed out gently.

I scoffed, this time actually indignant. “I am a firm believer in the Kitten Distribution System, I will have you know. When I am meant to have a cat, one will manifest.”

“You do know that animal breeding is strictly controlled?”

“Cared exactly zero cats, ever. You’ll see.”

For the next several hours, we made at least an effort to focus on Teeth’s penmanship and my transcription. I managed to copy several pages, but despaired that Teeth was a lost cause as far as cursive went. Which, fair - as long as they could print legibly, I could honestly have cared less.

When my shift was over, I let Teeth know that they were freed to their own recognizance and let my mind wander as I navigated the cavern system. Several times, I had to dodge fuzzy yellow balls darting past - Else still largely navigated by bumping off of things, despite being large enough to leave a pretty sizable bruise - only to later stand aside so that Noah’s much smaller avatars could trundle after them. I was still adapting to the hive-minded mushrooms being four feet tall instead of twelve, and always chuckled when I saw one chasing behind Else.

Eventually, children would be running through the caves in the same way. Every day, more and more of Charly’s bio-lights were mounted rather than hurriedly attached - constant signs of expansion as we recovered and spread out. Gardens were tucked in every possible nook and cranny, especially those with small thermal pools. More than a few had been built out with seating that used stone from smoothed out or expanded areas, repurposed.

It took all of my restraint to keep from turning into a communal food nook, the smell of chilies practically dragging me in. The heavily vegetarian group of cooks had quickly found and claimed the space, which was too warm for habitation due to the springs that ran behind the walls - making it perfect for cooking.

Dinner with Maverick and Evan, I reminded myself. The newly installed Councillor for Health and Safety had been very attached to Mav since the final hours of our journey. For a time, Conor and I had been slightly concerned and very much amused, but Evan had made it abundantly clear that she preferred zero romantic or physical attachments - she basically considered Maverick a very intelligent pet, and he thought that was hilarious.

I reached my favorite point of my walk and paused to enjoy it: one of the narrow passages had collapsed slightly on one side, leaving an overlook to our main hub. The Vault, we called it. There was no part of the day when people weren’t crossing through it, often stopping to speak to each other. Streams of both hot and cold water flowed in channels across the floor, small decorative bridges arching over them at the wider points for safety. Horticulturists hovered between the relatively new plant installations, which had already made the air sweet in their scant three years of growth.

I closed my eyes and inhaled the steam, feeling my heart slow and calm as it always did. Terrible events had brought us here, refugees from our birth planet. But we had survived the trip, across a distance we had never thought possible, and were carving out a home as carefully as possible. And one day, if we ever saw the journey home, nothing would remain behind us except the stone works - the plants needed constant maintenance, a decision we had made to avoid introducing invasive species.

We had a second chance, and we promised we would do right by it. As I did daily, I quietly said a prayer to myself that those who had survived on Earth - something Teeth was evident of - would make the same decision. Done, I smiled gently and headed home.

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