Microstory 1747: Little Lion

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I’m a nomadic lion, which means that I don’t belong to a pride. This is not by choice, as it is for most of my kind. I was the runt of the family, so my mother rejected and abandoned me. I should have died in the wild, having never learned how to survive, but I figured it out. I figured out what to eat, and what not to. I taught myself how to hunt, and where to find water. If only my mom could see me now. I’m full-grown, but not much larger than I was before, relatively speaking. You might think that makes it harder on me, but I have found it to be an advantage. Prey animals think of me as a baby, and while they are worried about mama being around here somewhere, they always underestimate me. Yes, it’s harder for me to run and pounce, but I don’t have to when my meal doesn’t consider me too much of a threat, and lets me get close before becoming worried about it. Yes, I’m doing okay, all things considered. I wouldn’t say this is a great life, and I doubt I’ll ever find a suitable mate, but at least I’m alive, and I understand how to keep myself that way. I will say that I’m fairly sick of it, wandering around without the protection or companionship of others. I’ve made a few attempts to join other prides, but they always run me off. They would kill me if, again, they thought I was any real threat. They don’t think I deserve to share in the food we would catch together. They don’t think I can contribute, and that’s not fair. They have no idea what I have to offer. I’ve decided to give up, and focus on being the best version of my lonesome self. If no one else can appreciate me, then I guess I have to work extra hard to make sure I appreciate myself, and maintain my self-esteem. It’s their loss.

One day, I’m walking over the grasslands, trying to pick up the scent of a sounder of warthogs. They’re pretty mean and rowdy, but they’re smaller than giraffes, so they’re kind of all I can handle on my own. My nose picks up something. I don’t know what it is yet, but it’s not a warthog. I keep going, and pretty quickly realize it to be the blood of my own kind. Another lion is hurt nearby, and I feel compelled to go investigate. I really shouldn’t. It’s none of my business, I don’t know how I could help them, and it’s not like they would try if our roles were reversed. I can’t help it, though. I have to find out what happened. Perhaps some super predator has shown up, and I’m in danger here. That is a good enough reason for me to follow the trail, right? As I draw nearer, I imagine the horrific crime scene I’m about to encounter. Blood and guts everywhere, I don’t know which parts connect to which other parts. Vultures feasting on the remains. But that’s not what it is. It’s a female, probably around my age. She’s injured enough to not be able to move on her own, but she’s not drenched in her own blood. I instinctively begin to lick her wounds. When the vultures actually do come, I scare them off with my pathetic excuse for a roar. It wouldn’t be good enough to impress another lion, but the birds are sufficiently disturbed. I continue to watch over the lioness as her cuts heal on their own. She won’t tell me what happened to her, but I get the impression that she too had some kind of falling out with her pride. Once she’s well enough, we walk together to a safer location, where I can leave her to hunt. I drag carcasses back to our den to keep her fed. It’s a lot of work for a little guy like me, but I make it work. One day, she runs off without even a thank you, and I figure that I’ll never see her again. But then she comes back with a carcass of her own as what she calls the thank you. Then we start our family.

Microstory 1742: Sea Serpent

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I don’t move at first. I have no idea whether you’re supposed to run away from a serpent, or stand still. Maybe she can’t see me if I stand still? I try to reach for my phone, but that seems to freak her out. She darts her head towards my hand, so I pull back. She relaxes a bit. I try to take one slow step backwards, but she doesn’t like that either. She seems to feel most comfortable with me where I am, and her where she is. I don’t get the impression that she plans on hurting me, but she considers any movement to be a sign of aggression. I notice something a little funny about her, since all I can do now is watch, and pray I don’t become the prey. I’m no serpent expert, obviously, but I’ve never seen one with such a flat tail. I can’t imagine that she can slither very well with that thing. Perhaps it’s meant to brush leaves and grass out of the way? No, that doesn’t make any sense. She’s already passed over any obstacle by then. Maybe it’s there to hide her tracks from predators. This sounds like a decent evolutionary advantage, though I would hardly call her worthy of being anyone’s meal. She perked up when I had to clear my throat. I doubt anything could sneak up on her, whether they were following tracks or not. I look around, careful to move my head as little as possible, and sniff the air. You know what, I think we’re pretty close to Danaid Inlet. Oh, that must be what that flat tail is for. She’s not a land serpent, but a sea serpent. That’s also probably why she’s so on edge, because she’s not close enough to water. I couldn’t say how long she can stay on land, so it could be indefinite. Or she’ll eventually die, and I’ll be able to walk away. No, I don’t want that. She’s not doing anything wrong. I want to save her.

I look up to get my bearings. I’m a little lost, but I know the direction of the ocean. The inlet is to the Northwest of here. Hoping the serpent doesn’t decide to just attack me on the spot, I move a little towards the water. She moves to match me. She doesn’t get closer, or farther away. I move more, she mirrors me again. I keep going, always keeping my eye on her as she follows. The trek is rough. I’m sure the trail will eventually get us there, but who knows how long that would take? I just want to get to the water as fast as possible so this girl can get back to her life. I’ll find my way home after that, once I’m finally safe. She continues to slither next to me as I’m trudging through the brush, and over the rocks. I would be embarrassed, but the serpent seems just as awkward on land as I am. Also, she’s an animal, so I don’t think she has the capacity to judge others. But what do I know? She appears to be following me to the inlet, like she knows she can trust me to lead her there. After a few hours, we’re on the beach. I did it. I can’t believe I actually did it. Now she can go off to where she belongs. She doesn’t move, though. She just sits there, staring at the water like she’s enjoying the beautiful view as much as I am. I step closer, she matches, just like she has been. I take a few more steps. She slithers again. I’m starting to think she thinks I’m her mother, and we’re supposed to go in together. All right, fine. I’m already cold and tired; how is getting wet gonna make things worse? I wade in, and she gleefully slithers in next to me. Only then does she seem to realize she knows how to take it from here. After a splash—which my headcanon has decided to categorize as a sea serpent’s way of saying thank you—she swims away. I step out of the water, and sit on the sand to watch the sunset. I fall asleep there, dreaming of serpentine friends. I awaken with a little unexpected new perspective.

Microstory 1713: Trapper and Dash

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We are the hunting dogs, Trapper and Dash. While Boots is off wrangling his cows, we’re busy sniffing out prey. We catch our kill, and put food on the table. We’re not saying Boots doesn’t provide, or doesn’t have an important job, but let’s face it, those cows are dumber than a fallen branch. A really good fence could keep them in line. Hunting, on the other hand, takes real skill. You have to be quick, not just loud and frightening. You have to be able to keep up with your prey, and sometimes wear them out. Most dogs have specialties, but we hunt for everything. Quail, duck, deer. We don’t go after foxes, though, even though Dash is a foxhound. Humans don’t eat fox, apparently, so they have no use for it. We can’t quite relate to that, seeing as we instinctively go after anything that moves, and isn’t also a dog. We suppose foxes are dogs in their own way. Perhaps that’s why our humans don’t like their meat. We certainly wouldn’t want them eating us! We do eat raccoons, Trapper is a coonhound. Anyway, a few minutes ago, Boots caught the scene of a bobcat. We don’t hunt them either most of the time, because the humans also have pet cats. I’m starting to see a pattern here. Or is it just too dangerous to them. This one’s different. It tried to go after poor Moonica, so we’ve been dispatched to take care of it. That bobcat knows where it can find food now, so if we don’t put an end to its life, it’ll come back later. Boots and our parents can’t watch over the cows all the time. We consider it our sacred duty to perform the tasks that they can’t stomach. We were bred for the kill, and we can handle any obstacle that gets in our way.

We can hear our parents following behind us, but they’re giving us the room we need to find the scent. This bobcat is smart; it knows how to hide itself pretty well. It’s not perfect, though, and it’s not undetectable. We move every which way until Trapper finally thinks he knows the exact right direction to go, and then we follow it. Once we’re close enough, we can sense it getting farther away. It knows we’re in pursuit, and it doesn’t want to run into us again. No, it’s not getting off that easy. Nothing will stop us from protecting our family, and our ranch. We keep going, moving faster and faster. The scent grows stronger, and we know we’re close. Pretty soon, we can tell that we’re nearly upon it. We make it over one more ridge, and there it is, crouched in its den. We don’t know if it thinks it’s safe from us there, but it’s not. We stop running, and we transform our barks into growls. We approach cautiously, but menacingly. That is when we see it. The bobcat isn’t just crouching to protect itself, it’s protecting a litter of kittens. We stop immediately, and back off. Can we just let this go? If she has a litter, that’s even more reason for her to come back to our ranch and try to attack our cows. We can’t just walk away and hope for the best. We can’t kill her, though, and we certainly can’t kill her babies—which, in this case, would be the same thing. Since they’re cats, we don’t speak the same language, but a few things do translate. We go back to barking, intermixing the growls as needed. We have to get the mother to understand that we mean business, and that her business is staying as far from our property as she can possibly be. She can go harass Old Man Larrison’s animals on his farm. He doesn’t take care of his livestock, or his pets, so they probably kind of deserve it. When we think the bobcat has gotten the message, we break away, and head back towards home.

Microstory 1639: Smart Plants

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Aliens are rare. They exist for a few different reasons, the main one being that they were genetically engineered from humans, or evolved from a branch of genetically engineered humans. Or they were humans raised on something called a source variant, which basically means that something in the way they were developed—with every intention of keeping them human—altered them enough to make them a different species. Radiation is often a factor. There’s one other method of creating a non-human intelligent species, and it goes back to a multiversal maxim which states that God is human, and therefore God’s godlings are also human. This is vague, and doesn’t explain anything, so I’ll break it down. My people and I come from a god, who houses us in a special subdimension in his soul. But that god also has his own god, and he’s housed in her soul, and so is everyone else in my god’s universe. So too do they have their own godlings, running around, being human. Nothing can evolve that isn’t technically human, because they are all ultimately sourced from one theoretical universe that stands above all others. The people in this universe have no god, so they are not godlings; only gods. And from them, we all come into being. That doesn’t mean there aren’t other lifeforms; just not ones that are sufficiently evolved. These other lifeforms are often known as pets, and if one forms a strong enough bond with its human, it actually has an impact on the genetic evolution of the godlings that belong to that person. That’s what sometimes results in an alien species that is not very human. Something different has been introduced into the system. On at least one occasion, a God actually bonded with a plant, and ended up creating plant-based godlings in their subdimensional soul. So they’re aliens, and they’re not fully human, but they have to be a little human, because we’re the only species with complex souls, as opposed to the simplex souls that animals have, as well as apparently, this plant. The plant in the higher universe will not create godlings on its own.

This doesn’t mean that the hyperintelligent plant species will suddenly spring into existence either. Evolution still takes place, no matter what. It usually follows an inevitable path that will eventually lead to a version of humans, but even with this exception, it still has to follow evolutionary logic, or it won’t happen. Evolution takes place over the course of billions of years, and that remains true for Sapioplantaverse, so I’ll just go over the highlights. There was a species of plant that lived on a planet in the Milky Way galaxy. This plant struggled to perform photosynthesis, and get enough energy to survive. Trees towered above them, and blocked much of the sunlight, but it wasn’t just the lack of light itself. It takes a lot of energy to create the components necessary for photosynthesis in the first place. It’s a cycle, where the sunlight powers the plant, which allows it to build itself up, and gather more sunlight...to power the plant. This cycle was strenuous, and taxing, so this plant evolved to lower the cost of energy. It did this by eating nearby plants, and stealing their photosynthetic pigments. The individual plants who were better at leaning towards these prey plants were better at surviving, for they were able to steal more pigment. The leaners slowly got even better at this when they figured out how to uproot themselves, inch closer to their prey, and reroot themselves at this new location. Their descendants became better and better at this, until they were pretty much walking. Then eventually, they were walking. The rerooting process became so quick that they essentially had legs, and from there, the evolution was obvious. The mobile plants were able to move to areas of stronger sunlight, and better nutrients, making them larger, and stronger. The better the individual’s external sensors were, the better it was at detecting where it was going, and overcoming obstacles, so that genetic trait was passed down to its descendants. This led to them evolving eyes, noses, and appendages. They developed knees to move faster, tongues to gather nutrients more efficiently, and brains to navigate easier. After a whole lot of time, they attained human level intelligence, which made them just as skillful, and fully capable of conquering their world.

Microstory 1293: The Predators and Their Spoils

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A tiger, a wolverine, a hyena, and a black bear once became a hunting party. They decided to join forces, so no prey would be able to escape their grasp. The tiger was sort of considered their leader, even though the team-up was more or less the wolverine’s idea. The tiger was the largest, and this was her territory, so she determined which animals they were going to go after, and what strategy they would use to catch them. Though they were hunting together, they were not eating together. The general rule was that each predator still got to keep for themselves whatever they caught, just as it would be if they were operating separately. They really just stuck together to instill more fear in their targets, so it would be easier to take them down. This seemed to have a side effect, however, when they eventually found that the animals figured out how to steer clear of this fearsome four. They learned how the the predator group hunted, and more importantly, how to avoid them. This quite nearly caused the group to disband, and head their separate ways, but the black bear had an idea. All they needed to do was travel north, to a land where the animals knew nothing about them. They needed to regain their element of surprise. This seemed like a good idea, so they packed up, and moved out. What the black bear failed to mention, however, was that there were fewer animals in the north, because it was always sparsely populated. They continued to struggle to find food, until one day when the hyena was able to run down a moose who had been drinking by a stream. It was quite large, but it was also alone, so if they followed their own rules, only the hyena would get to eat. “We can change the rules,” the tiger said after a long pause in the argument about it. “We are the ones that made them up, after all! We shall divide the moose into four equal parts; one for each of us.” And so they did, and it was fair, and they were full.

This story was inspired by, and revised from, an Aesop Fable called The Lion’s Share.

Microstory 1292: The Coney and Her Ears

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A lion was trying to eat the meat of a goat he had captured when the goat’s horns scratched his face up. One of them nearly took out his eye when he leaned over, and this angered the lion greatly. Not wanting to risk anything like this happening again, the lion stood on top of his proclamation rock, and proclaimed that all animals with horns of any kind will be banished from the lands. Anyone fitting the description was required to leave within one day. Now, of course the coney did not have horns, but she did have long ears on top of her head, which the lion might take offense to. She could not sleep that not for fear of the lion becoming angry with her for staying. He did say that anyone with horns of any kind should leave; perhaps her tall ears were close enough. When she stepped out of her hole the following morning, the sun’s light fell upon her head, and cast a long shadow on the ground before her, making her ears look even larger than they normally did. She even convinced herself that they were horn-like. Now she was certain that it wasn’t worth the risk to stick around. She was so upset about having to move, but she did not want to suffer the lion’s wrath. He was such a fearsome creature, and she was such a little thing. “Goodbye,” she said to all her friends. “I do not want to go, but I have no other choice.”

“Good for you,” said the badger.

“How is this good?” the coney asked.

“Why, all the horned animals are looking at this development the wrong way,” the badger tried to explain. “Sure, you have to move, but you should be happier than anyone. After all, you’re not supposed to want to be eaten by a predator. It is the rest of us who must continue to live in fear.”

This story was inspired by, and revised from, an Aesop Fable called The Hare and His Ears.

Microstory 1286: The Turtle and Her Home

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It came to pass in the very early days of creation that the god of the animals, and the god of the plants, decided to marry each other. They wanted to better blend all life in the world, and manage them together. Only then did they think life would thrive, and multiply. All the animals living at the time were invited to the wedding, and nearly all of them showed up. Notably absent, however, was the turtle. No one knew why she wasn’t there to honor the god who created her, but they were worried that something terrible had happened to her. After the ceremony was over, they came to learn that the turtle was perfectly safe, and that she had simply chosen to not attend. The others said it was rude and inconsiderate, but if they were being honest with themselves, perhaps they would realize that they were mostly upset because they had felt obligated to come. She wasn’t afraid to make her own decisions, like they were. It was only the two gods that were willing to listen to her explanation. “My house is not much,” she explained, “but it is mine, and I love it, and it is where I feel the safest. You invited the sharks and the seabirds, and though you placed a temporary truce on us, I was too afraid that my predators would not honor it.” And so the two gods thought over her concerns, and decided to make things better. They wanted her to feel safe all the time, even though they knew that she would forever remain part of the circle of life, just as everyone else was. The best idea they could come up with was to allow the turtle to carry her home with her wherever she went. So the turtle was happy.

This story was inspired by, and revised from, an Aesop Fable called Zeus and the Tortoise, though I can’t seem to find the source that I drew from, and I don’t feel that it would be right to link to some other version of it that uses different wording.

Microstory 696: An Irreverent Man Commits

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This is a callback to the very first taikon; the one that started us all down the path of true enlightenment. We spoke little of Dedebe Seirsen, and exactly what inspired him to change his ways, but perhaps this is a good time, for today he makes it official. Seirsen was born on a moon called Junvos that orbits a gas giant so closely that relatively little sunlight reaches its surface for extended periods of time over the year. Though Junvos contributes to the interstellar economy, it does so rather unimpressively, dominating no sector of any market. Seirsen grew up living an unspectacular life, but managed to snag a modicum of fame when a microblogging post of his made its way onto a Lightseed broadcast. He is quoted as saying, Lightseed is known for accepting all acolytes willing to sacrifice their individuality. Their goal is not to spread truth, but simply grow their army of averlets. For any who don’t know, an averlet is a small rodent indigenous to the planet Istamas. Averlets are infamous for instinctively following any larger creature moving slow enough for it to maintain pace. It evolved this trait by using these larger animals as sometimes unwitting protection against predators. This trait survived in their species even despite the fact that an averlet will gladly, and foolishly, accompany these predators as well, if faced with one. The most common predator is an animal called the serrated roan. Seirsen’s remark, after being absolutely demolished in a debate amongst Lightseed guests on the program, skyrocketed his notoriety overnight. He began receiving death threats, and was even physically attacked a few times, but he also amassed support. Seeing this as an opportunity, he formed a coalition of atheists who called themselves the Soldiers of Roan, placing their namesake on their flag, and adopting bestial qualities. They would regularly show up at Lightseed reverie services, mimicking the taunting and snapping behavior that real serrated roans exhibit to force their prey into the freezing acute stress response. To this day, Seirsen refuses to explain how and why now he suddenly saw the Light of Truth for what it is. Or maybe he doesn’t really know. While the later taikon were taking place, he was studying and practicing the faith harder than most. He’s been accruing a new group of followers, and has garnered enough support to propel him to a position of leadership within the Lightseed establishment. Wielding this new purpose, he was able to convince the Highlightseers to send him to Earth where he will be Primary Lightguide for the newly formed Pangalactic Fleet Against the Thuriaman Threat.