Custom Common Experiment #76166
We didn’t originate in the cold, empty spaces between the stars. Our first home, the one we came into existence on, was a small rocky world, tidally locked to its star. Less than half of that world was lit by the dull red light of that sun, and the land which faced it directly was an uninhabitable wasteland, seared clean by radiation. More hospitable climates ringed that ruined hellscape, gradually cooling into a frozen, perpetual night. It was in that ring of fading twilight where the sun hung fixed just above the horizon where we first became aware. We clung to the shadows and sustained ourselves on the vital fluids of our prey. Over time we came to feed on their very essence, living in their minds, clothing ourselves in their flesh, and adding their knowledge to our own.
It was in this way we came to know not everything on this sphere had been born there.
Through them we learned to that our world was doomed. That our sun, already aged and shrunken, would slowly darken and go cold. The frigid dark of the other side would eventually creep across the entire globe, locking it in silent ice.
And they unknowingly provided us the key to our survival. In their minds we saw that countless other planets spun tied to their stars, capable of providing a new refuge for us. From their memories we harvested the method to slip between worlds riding on the currents that spanned the voids between suns. As the cold seeped in and our unintentional tutors prepared to take their own leave, we too slipped away from our home. Our first steps into a new existence were made indifferent to the journey and destination of our newfound fellow travelers, and we have long since lost track of them. For their part, they were never entirely aware of us, and we preferred it that way. There was no need. The relationship between diner and dinner is not one of peers.
What marvels these new worlds held; each one was more fascinating and surprising that the last. We saw wonders we never could have witnessed otherwise. For a species that feeds on the mind, the key to escaping our dying world opened the door to an endless feast offering a constant flow of delicacies. Like this we made our new lives, haunting the shadows beneath other creatures drinking their knowledge and experiences, and then moving on the next as we grew bored of that place.
We learned to be ever so careful to not linger too long, or to feed too deeply. To our horror, we had quickly discovered that we ran the risk of becoming mired in a world and unable to leave. If we were careless we could end up entangled in our hosts, bound to their flesh and dying as they did. To become mired was to be chained to the inevitable degradation and erosion of the host as our presence ate away at its being. Though we may have dearly adored many of the worlds we visited and had some affection for our food, it was better to move on sooner than we would have liked than to risk that nightmare. This was for our own self-preservation. Kindness to our hosts was secondary to our own needs.
This most recent world was in particular interest to me. Many planets we visited played host to some degree of civilization. We sought these worlds out in particular as their knowledge could be added to our own, and their culture made the meal more enjoyable. Nearly every civilization we encountered included some sort of food tradition. So much so it was strange when it was absent. Nonetheless, we regarded these as grotesque curiosities. Perhaps it was because we remember the time when we consumed flesh, blood, and bone that we were so disgusted at seeing these habits in other species. Somehow though, the way in which the inhabitants on this world crafted and enjoyed its food made some of it even seem, almost, edible. We never had the need to do such things ourselves, and the care other creatures had taken in the preparation of their sustenance had never before interested me. But something about this world and these foods didn’t horrify me quite so much.
Here and there along the way others had dropped off. They did not get mired in the worlds they stayed on, and took pains to avoid it. I never understood why they would willingly remain in one place rather than eternally ride the currents between planets in search of new feeding grounds. Perhaps they simply remained until the next pod rode past, and then slipped away with new companions. A few had joined my own group in this manner. As the time to move on came closer, I found myself contemplating this very idea. Whether or not I should linger here to enjoy these little delights for a bit longer. If only until the next pod slipped by.
Art, story, and profile by
frederick. A thank you to
Princess for their guide on pet profiles and sample code.
