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anoddreindeer · 3 years

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On Polysilicate Mourning Rituals

In the space between one second and the next, Paul watched as the caustic fluid they'd been using to analyze spore samples dripped from a newly-eaten hole in the pipette towards the surface of their arm.

It would do damage, certainly, but nothing beyond surface-level. All sodians knew, from a very early point in their lifespans, not to store data in the cruft of their bodies. The outer portions that broke off and wore away, leaving them to smooth as they aged, were extremely poor choices for long-term data storage.

Though it wasn't always external forces that wore away at their cruft. While Paul had never indulged in the practice, they were aware that a number of other sodians had, in times long past, used tools to reshape themselves in ways they felt were more beneficial to their tasks. Younger ones would smooth away rough edges to appear older, thereby gaining more credence with alien scholars. Others would carve their heads into shapes more useful for the research technologies invented by species whose heads were shaped differently. Still others would hollow storage spaces within themselves, to store items against times of need that they could not otherwise carry.

Paul had never felt the need for any of that, but they had considered - were still considering - the one form of carving that all sodians agreed upon. While sodians encoded data into the very material they were made up of, they also carved commemorations into their cruft. The form it took varied from sodian to sodian; the sizes, the shapes, the locations, all of it extremely personal. And yet no sodian would mistake such a carving for anything other than what it was; a sign of mourning.

Paul had considered it. The loss of every other sodian, all the knowledge that they had poured into the homeworld - the place that would have been theirs, when the time came to rest and return to the planet.

All gone.

They were the only sodian left, and while they could theoretically re-establish sodians in another metaverse, that would be the work of millennia. It would never truly replace what was lost, of course. Whatever form the sodians took would be in the image of times past, but it would not be the same. That wasn't necessarily a bad thing, but it was a truth Paul did not often like to think about.

And, in truth, that loss was so all-encompassing that there were no symbols to adequately express it. Not room enough on Paul's current form to express the loss of untold worlds and pools of knowledge vast enough to encompass entire universes. They could carve that regret into every facet of every silica particle that made up their stony cruft, and it still would not be enough to express it all.

So they did not waste the time to try. Not yet. Not while it wouldn't do any good. Better to work on the foundations of something new; they were not the only ones to have lost everything, and more would do so if their current team failed in their mission.

The drop of fluid hissed as it made impact with their arm. Paul moved carefully to let it slide off and into the designated disposal container before inspecting the area carefully. A micro-fine layer of the fluid remained, and while the main silicate of their arm did not react to it, there appeared to be a reaction with some trace elements that was causing it to continue to hiss faintly and eat an exothermic trail in their arm.

"Fascinating."

Paul reached over and use a sampling swab to remove some of the caustic fluid from their arm, another to swab an uncontaminated area, and set the pipette down on a non-reactive surface. The fluid should not have reacted that way to Paul's cruft; this demanded closer study.

They got to work.

#whumptober2021 #no.16 #scars #paul #the reliables #masters of the metaverse #medium:fic #//so like carving = scarification for silica-based aliens

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