Ontogeny

Chapter 16a

     “It has now been a year since the arrival of these enigmatic objects...” said the Brigadier, reading aloud for Malone’s benefit, “and we are no closer to understanding what they are, who sent them or why. They appear to be totally inert and have ignored every attempt to communicate with them.”

     He scanned ahead through the text, flipping through the pages of translated notes. Every so often he returned to the original magazine, turning the fragile pages carefully. Almost every page had pictures on it showing images of the fallen civilisation in impossible clarity, as if he were looking through a window at a moment frozen in time.

     He scanned ahead through the text, flipping through the pages of translated notes. Every so often he returned to the original magazine, turning the fragile pages carefully. Almost every page had pictures on it showing images of the fallen civilisation in impossible clarity, as if he were looking through a window at a moment frozen in time. "I wonder what lost technology was responsible for this," he muttered to himself. "Never mind that. Mustn't get sidetracked."

     He returned his attention to Malone. “It speaks of several of the objects being attacked and destroyed,” he said. “Not even that provoked a reaction from the others.”

     “I’ve never seen anything like them,” said Malone. “They’re clearly Radiant in nature, but they don’t make things like that now.”

     The Brigadier nodded distractedly. “The author speculates on whether the objects are connected with the something crisis. There's a word that doesn't translate, but Parcellius’ assistant put in a footnote saying that, from other pieces of text elsewhere, it seems to refer to the loss of their ability to procreate.”

     “They couldn't adopt? Couldn't form parent bonds with animals?”

     “He would have said so if it was that. I think it refers to their original way of procreating themselves. Something to do with their different anatomy.” He turned the pages of the original magazine until he found a picture of a crowd of people. Some of them were small, less than half the height of the others. “They didn't adopt animals. Somehow, they produced small humans that grew, but then they lost the ability to do so.” He leafed through the pages of translated notes. “Not just them but all animals. Every form of life was separate, with no adoption between species.”

     “But the coming of those things stopped that somehow.”

     “So it would seem. The timing cannot be a coincidence, it says. Is this an attack on our world, or an unintended side effect of their presence? There are articles here, discussions between different experts. One arguing one side of the debate, one arguing the other. One thing they seem to agree on is their low opinion of the visitors, though. Either they’re hostile, incompetent or simply uncaring. They may not be the product of intelligent beings at all, this chap says. They may be the cosmic equivalent of seed pods, spread by mindless organisms operating solely on instinct. In whichever case, he says, this is not what we expect from a mature, responsible civilisation.”

     The merchant, meanwhile, was staring at the pictures in the magazine. “This is the civilisation of the Hetin folk?” He said. “Is that a ship? Gods, look at the size of it!”

     The Brigadier ignored him. “Here’s something. They speak of a new form of life they’ve found. Small creatures made of jelly that eat dead organic matter.”

     “Globs!” exclaimed Malone. “So there were no globs before that?”

     “It says they multiply by...” He squinted at the unfamiliar words. “Binary fission. Hmm. Never heard those words before, but they’re written as if they're nortine words so they must mean something. We know that globs split in half, forming two new creatures, when they get big enough. Binary, yes, that fits. The author of this article describes it as if it’s something strange and unusual, though.”