Forever Curious, Part 17
Chapter 5: The Berserker Forest
As they’re crossing a wide swath of grassland, the grass waist high, just not high enough to hide behind if she ducks. On the other hand, while she has to trust her camouflage, she can also see any megafauna from far away. Or, in this case, hear over a large distance. The silence is broken by two loud battle cries: one like the hiss of a thousand cobras, the other like the roar of a pride of lions. Looking in the direction of the noise, Na-Yeli sees two giants challenging each other.
The wise thing to do is to avoid this confrontation like the plague, make an evasive trek around it, and carry onwards. Na-Yeli knows she shouldn’t do it, but her intense curiosity converts the immense battle cries into an irresistible siren song, and she does it anyway. She gestures to the Moiety Alien to follow her, and as they get closer, they witness a fight between an aggressive Stomposaur and a creature like a mix between a giant snake and a Tyrannosaur Rex.
The Snakosaur Rex walks on two legs that support a snake-like body, wide at the bottom while tapering to quite slim at the neck that, on the other hand, carries a disproportionally large head with huge jaws and large fangs. The thick tail providing a counterbalance for the surprisingly agile upper torso.
The Stomposaur—a bit like a cross between a triceratops and a hippo—has a large, rotund body carried by four fat, stubby legs. Yet it moves with unexpected speed, the chunky shanks almost becoming a blur. Its hippo-like maw carries a row of big, sharp teeth, while the triple horns on top of that maw glitter with an obsidian glare and are very finely pointed, indeed.
Na-Yeli missed exactly what caused the exchange of hostilities, but that they’re angry at each other is but all too abundantly clear. They approach each other, the Snakosaur Rex letting out a hiss like superheated steam escaping from a melting boiler, and the Stomposaur roaring like the horns of a dozen cruise liners.
At first, they circle each other, letting out ever louder hisses and roars, and feinting attacks. Then the Stomposaur assaults, its triple horns leaving a row of bloody rashes on the Snakosaur Rex’s left side. The huge reptile strikes back, its long and sinuous neck avoiding the massive mammal’s gaping maw and sinking its fangs into its protruding belly.
Things escalate from there. The beasts are upon each other, striking, biting, and punching with blinding speed. Their fight becomes such a blur that the two brutes become all but indistinguishable, a battle cloud of epic proportions.
As it is, Na-Yeli can’t help but wonder how fast these huge animals move. Yes, gravity is only one-quarter of Earth’s. Yes, there is fifty percent more oxygen in the air than at home. Still, these immense monsters fight with such speed that Na-Yeli’s quite happy to be out of harm’s way.
As fast as it’s begun, it’s over. While the Snakosaur Rex is badly wounded, it still stands as it delivers its final bite in the Stomposaurs exposed neck. Quite probably, these fangs carry a poison as that bite didn’t seem that deadly, yet the Stomposaur visibly starts to move much slower, losing its fighting ability.
Almost unnoticed by Na-Yeli—who was alerted by her outer motion sensors—quite a large amount of animals has congregated to, well, watch this fight. Even crazier, not all of these animals look like predators: there are several huge gorillas, some Zeppelinfants, a pair of Ultragiraffes—whose kindred were nibbling at the leaves of a huge tree the last time Na-Yeli saw them—and even a small herd of large grazers that look like a crossover between a llama and an antelope. The gathered predators—Stegosauruses and Reverse Dragons, apart from a few more Stomposaurs and Snakosaur Rex—do not seem interested in the very prey that’s walking right between them. Curiouser and curiouser. Thank dog they show no interest in Na-Yeli or the Moiety Alien—either their camouflage works quite well, or they’re simply ignored like the other prey—and they begin to get involved after the fight.
When the fight is finished, and the Stomposaur is beaten, the wounded giant is not eaten but towed along. And not just by the Snakosaur Rex, as it gets help from the other, gathered megafauna. They cooperate in a fashion that seems to say that they’ve done this before. Huge, gorilla-like bipeds enter the scene with what must be a huge net. Four Zeppelinfants wrap their long trucks around the wounded Stomposaur’s legs and lift it. The Über-Gorillas pull the net under the Stomposaur, whose expression seems to change from fear into a quiet kind of acceptance. The Stomposaur is put down on the net, and the Zeppelinfants, Über-Gorillas, Ultragiraffes, and other animals each grab hold—in their own way—of a part of the net, and together they tow the now deadly quiet Stomposaur along.
Na-Yeli and the Moiety Alien follow then as silently as possible, while Na-Yeli wonders what the Moiety Alien makes of this. She has no idea, herself, as her brain is trying to understand how this whole layer at large functions. She gets that the presence of a rotating mini-Sun generates a day-night cycle and that the mini-world somehow follows a near-similar evolutionary pathway to its own, twisted Mesozoic. But how does this mini-Sun work? It shouldn’t be possible.
As Na-Yeli’s mind tries to grapple with the world she’s witnessing, she and the Moiety Alien are also—as quietly as they can—going after the strange parade of megafauna towing one of their mortally wounded along. The procession carries along, doggedly, working together to overcome obstacles, cross small rivers and make its way through the ever-denser vegetation. A collaboration in complete silence, hour after hour. Unwavering, unrelenting, and eerie.
As they follow the gathered megafauna, the savannah thickens into a tropical forest. The transition is sudden as if some freak event or some insane deity has decided that at this line savannah stops and mega-jungle begins. The whole layer must have an active climate complete with a water and carbon cycle. In the tropical region, the canopy of the thick, lush tropical forest is very high, and very thick, and almost everywhere of roughly equal height.
Except for a single spot stack on the equator where two towering branches from a single, forked tree stick out high above the canopy. It stands so tall it’s visible from the edge of the tropics, some fifteen kilometers away. Na-Yeli can’t escape the feeling that they’re heading exactly towards that very point. She’s having difficulties trying to take it all in—how does the ecology work? how can the megafauna cooperate like that? why would they?—and certainly won’t get her answers today, as twilight calls.
The going gets much more difficult for the megafaunal parade in the thickening jungle, and inevitably evening sets in. At some point, as twilight fades into a starless darkness, the strange parade decides to set up camp by dumping the still barely alive Stomposaur in a small clearing, and then prepare for sleep in a circle around it. Na-Yeli and the Moiety Alien find a resting spot well out of sight, and Na-Yeli programs a sequence of Kittis to warn them when the parade continues.
To her delight, the soil is rich in nutrients, meaning her nanobots can replenish many missing minerals, metals, and volatiles overnight. Lost in thought, trying to make sense of this weird world, Na-Yeli eventually falls asleep. Not quite fitful as she’s awoken several times by her Kittis and motion sensors, warning her for nocturnal animals passing close by. None of these are after her, or the Moiety Alien, fortunately, or simply do not notice them.
The next morning, the megafauna congregation has a sort of breakfast session. The herbivores forage for their preferred plants, while the carnivores hunt—some more successful than others—for small prey. Typically, the carcasses of the devoured prey are not discarded but thrown in the net with the poor Stomposaur, who’s somehow still hanging on for dear life. Then the procession moves onwards.
The going gets pretty tough, but they’re already quite close to their goal—the huge forked tree stack on the equator. I knew it, Na-Yeli thinks, but, by dog, why? They arrive just before noon.
The singular tree—the tallest one in the layer—looks like a huge prong with two tips, its massively thick stem rising until about two-thirds of its height, which is about two-hundred-and-fifty meters. Then it splits into two equal branches, like a perfectly symmetrical fork. The massive tree has only sparse foliage along its thick stem, and at the bottom of its two forked branches. Halfway up the fork ends, though, there is no foliage and the wood has a black sheen as if it just came out of a forest fire. Right next to that humongous tree, a rectangular area has been cleared, the long axis of the rectangle also stack on the equator, facing east.
Coming closer, Na-Yeli sees that two ropes are tied to the fork ends. The ropes look thin in comparison to the massive tree’s two upper branches, but in reality, they’re thick, thicker than mooring ropes of the mega cruise liners of yore. The whole reminds her of something, but she can’t quite put her finger on it. An oversized slingshot, she thinks, Ah, that’s it—a trebuchet.
Close to the gigantic catapult tree, several dead and severely wounded animals are laid together on a huge leather pouch. The dying Stomposaur—together with the bodies of that morning’s prey—is added to them. The two long, thick ropes are connected to the sides of the pouch on one end, and all the way up to the top of the two upper branches on the other end. There’s something in the air, a rising tension underscored by a low, sonorous, almost infrasonic wail.
The Ultragiraffes bend forward, their powerful jaws biting on the leathery strips connected to one of the many ropes that—looped under a curved, very thick branch that’s anchored to the ground—all connect to the launching seat-cum-leather pouch of the enormous catapult. They bend through their knees, tensing the muscles in their four feet and mighty necks.
In perfect synchronicity, Zeppelinfants, Stomposaurs, Snakosaurs Rex, Über-Gorillas, Reverse Dragons, and other megafauna get a hold on the myriad of leather strips from the gargantuan sling, as well, and pull it back, exquisitely timed, as one.
Step by step the congregation of animals moves backward, gradually increasing the tension of the enormous sling. The moment the wounded animals in the huge leather pouch feel that they are lifted off the ground, they emit a wail that’s as resounding as it is heartbreaking.
Yet the wail is not one with discord as the sounds synchronize and a song arises from those animals about to be launched. A dirge from the sacrificed, an elegy for the afterlife. Na-Yeli can’t make out any words—if there are any—but the haunting melody brings tears to her eyes.
The premature requiem has a decided rhythm, a pulse perfectly in time with the steps of the congregation of megafauna who are tensioning the trebuchet. Yet it is not all doom and gloom, as overtones of acquiescence rise the fore with overtures of inception, almost as if the creatures of oblation believe in reincarnation.
In the meantime, the relentless tensioning of the trebuchet marches onwards, the two long ropes taut with a creaking assurance and the two forked branches bending over, backward to the ground.
The ritual started at noon, with the mini-Sun straight above the proceeding. As the mini-Sun is moving to the West, and the catapult horde moves to the East, there is no doubt as to where the gigantic trebuchet is aimed at. They’re going to shoot them into the mini-Sun, Na-Yeli realizes, any Aztec priest would be yellow with envy.
Then the coordinated congregation reaches the end of the clearing, their muscles tense, rigid with vibration. The launching dirge reaches a climax and all the animals let go, as one, simultaneously.
The twang of the gigantic trebuchet is deafening, lashing through ear-drums and souls alike. The offering to be burnt is whiplashed into the sky on a trajectory of fate. Na-Yeli follows the animated load through her highest resolution outer cameras and sees that the orchestrated aim is true, as the heap of that animals—Na-Yeli certainly hopes the enormous whiplash has killed those still alive, as that would be preferable to being burnt up—is swallowed by the mini-Sun.
A few minutes later, her instruments concur with what everybody’s eyes surely see. The mini-Sun starts burning brighter. Is this why they do it? Na-Yeli can’t help but wonder. But such a process can never be self-sustainable …
—or—
Author’s note: since I’ve taken on the task to provide art alongside the writing, I’ve come up short on finding examples of “Snakosaurus Rex” and “Stomposaur” (although “Stomposaurus” did get some hits, albeit rather cartoonish, see the previous section). So I turned to Stable Diffusion and got something reasonably representative. I should get and pay artists, right? Well, I do, as I’ve paid Maciej Rebisz for the book’s cover art. However, getting internal artwork for 25 separate episodes is—at this point in time—not financially sustainable for me, so I need to be creative. OK, here’s a promise: the moment this substack reaches one thousand subsriptions, I will commission some internal art. How many pieces? That will depend on the number of paid subscribers. Thanks for reading and spread the word!