pearls-and-vignettes

[pearls-and-vignettes]

Spaceway 70 - Anna

The makeshift cell has a steel table and chair—like in old detective films. He reconfigured the room lock with a passkey only he knows, though he doesn't know how to turn off its failsafe.

With a shudder in the station, the lights turn off for a moment, and a different set of colder lights take their place, dimly. I walk through the now-unlocked door and into the hallway outside. A wall panel confirms my fears.

[Alert: Hull breach in multiple sectors | Primary power offline | Check workteam communications for further instructions]

He's scared. Worse than that, he's scared and paranoid. Pablo has the fear from another life of destruction and bloodshed in him. Maybe it's warranted—I couldn't say. Only he knows his past.

Out in the next sector I finally see someone. Two new guys, lazing on some hallway chairs.

"Anna!" One of them says brightly.

"Good evenin'," I float back.

"Quite hot in here?"

"Aye," I say tersely "A waste reactor's nearby. Makes heat. Ventilation won't be turned on 'till someone turns it on."

"Then who will?" The other man says, daftly.

"We don't waste power on climate control when there's a big hole in the ship."

Another pause, the two men look at each other. It's possible they have thoughts going through their heads, though that's difficult to confirm.

"Aren't you two supposed to be working this emergency?"

"Haven't got an assignment yet," One of them replies whilst the other is still taken aback by my question, almost falling off his chair. A moment, then he too regains his composure.

"Keep your pagers out, lads," I bark, wanting to laugh. I puff my chest and walk with intent, into the next room.

I enter my quarters to the right; a modest room, yet a little more spacious than most. To my left, a workbench with some parts scattered around a broken network module, and my PDA.

[Hello, Anna]

[32.061]

[[%% DIRECT COM %%]]

[Notice - There seems to be a system outage; operating in P2P mode | Ten unopened messages - Priority: Low - Three unopened messages - Priority: Medium - Five unopened messages - Priority: High]

I punch in my code.

[=-= Carol F. =-=]

[CUR.32.050 > L | You got your PDA on you?]

[CUR.32.053 > M | Of course he took it. Meet me at central processing when you can -- they hit deep and I need welding done. All the fabricators are out patching the hull.]

[CUR.32.057 > H | A big chunk of power routing is out. I paged John for a fabricator or two but he says he's tied up. Please be here ASAP!]

[=-= Pablo C. =-=]

[CUR.32.049 > H | ==TO GROUPS: W.G. LEADERS, SPECIALISTS, ADMIN== | Attention -- we have been attacked -- this is a matter I will handle personally -- communicate emergency plans with your workgroups.]

[=-= Jonathan L. =-=]

[CUR.32.055 > H | I know you're busy. We need to patch an LS manifold. I have a fabricator to spare. Just ping me when you're free.]

[CUR.32.057 > M | On top of that, all the cable to kitchens is out. I have a few workers patching it up but we need you for some tight wiring.]

No rest for me. I grab my toolbag from the foot of my bed and run to a utility closet in the hallway. The reserve welding cart creaks from disuse as I roll it toward me, yet it still seems to work just the same. I dust off some goggles and shove them in a pocket as I make for Carol.

Eventually, I arrive at central processing, winded from running with so much stuff. Carol is buried deep in her assistant, probably typing out one communication after another.

"God, this thing is so slow!"

"I'm here..?"

"Yes. Hi, Anna," she finishes another message before she finally looks up, "Let's fix this thing so I'm not stuck on peer to peer."

She moves to the wall, which holds an impressive array of cooling pipes and circuits. Indicator lights flash off and on erratically whilst a monitor spits out warning after warning. At the far end, away from the corner where she started, there is a series of busted conduits supposed to hold thick cable against a hastily repaired wall.

"Here, where the cables go into this contactor array."

She pries the panel off the array's enclosure and exposes a beautiful mess of small, printed traces and goliath cables interfacing with one another. The leftmost portion of this box has severed wire and shattered boards.

"I isolated this module from the rest of the processor. And there's no voltage through the cables." She hands me a drawing and walks to an electrical cart. "Just replace the broken components. It doesn't have to be pretty." The cart, being twice the size of mine, is filled with wires of all gauges, components of all kinds, a work surface with a solderer, and has board printing capabilities. "All the files you might need are on that printer."

"Got it," I reply.

She looks back to her PDA and her eyes betray her exasperation, briefly. "I'll be back in a few to turn it on and debug," she shouts whilst having one foot already out the door. I grab a screwdriver and begin to pull away at the broken components. When they don't budge, I pull out the angle grinder. Rinse and repeat.

At least I have a simple life...

[pearls-and-vignettes]

Spaceway 70 - Pablo

The Marlin heaves out of the darkened dock, whining with unwarmed engines. A simple objective:

- Assess damages, neutralize threats.

I've done it a million times before. Come to think of it,—

Red lights blare outside and the station's distress call is picked up by the radio. I fly around the cylindrical body—perform a systematic scan. How would the incident report be written?

- Upper hull damaged in a hit-and-run bombing; station status unknown.

- Soldier casualties: ...

Soldiers. They never chose to lay down their lives—to fight for an uncaring ruler—not them.

- Assailant(s): Unknown vessel, presumed solitary. Heat signature detected, actively pursuing.

Ambiguous language. Open to litigation. Sarge would be sad.

- Disregard previous entry. Chasing assailant via engine heat; infrared reading with 0.87 certainty. Monitoring radar.

- Radar confirms a small ship. Moving at 75% of own velocity. Distance 2000 mi.

-

-

- 1500.

-

-

- Approaching civilian zone

-

-

- 1000.

-

-

- 500.

-

- 250.

-

- 175.

-

- 100.

- 50.

- 25.

- Contact.

They pull up and to the left, attempting to get above and behind me, though it's too little, too late.

- Assailant neutralized with ballistics. Assumed to have hit engine.

- Upon visual examination, there appears to have been no pilot. Control is either automated or remote. No outstanding radio frequency detected.

Darn...

Out and ahead of me are markers indicating a commercial route. Safe for traders.

A transponder on one of the markers pings my ship. Something about remaining in place, a unit arriving soon. I don't make it a good hundred miles before a squad comes in with weapons hot.

I dodge a few shots and they graze me with a laser. I'm not about to make war with a whole task force.

The Marlin is a ship of esoteric construction. It has a hull constructed for incredibly heavy salvos—granted you have enough sealant [1] aboard. It comes with a cloak [2], more a scrambler than anything, which uses up insane amounts of power, and an EM pulse [3] which likewise drains my batteries. It's a perfect ship for an early retirement [4], as long as my encounters are few and far between.

With the push of a fader I turn my radio into a tool of war, creating a streak of white along their IR imager and making their radar unusable. Similarly, with a press of a button the magnetron pulses on, disabling their steering and warming up their cabins.

- Three combatants neutralized; nonlethal means

Two more pull down and in front, shooting and missing. I pull up and turn around, hoping to hit them with more microwaves.

< -#- VACDETEC V1.4 -#- >

< ALARM >

<HULL BREACH | d.0s>

<HULL BREACH | d.1s>

<HULL BREACH | d.2s>

I begin to sweat as the laser weapon dissipates as heat into my cockpit.

< HULL SEALED >

< SEALANT AT 25% >

I need to leave.

I reach up to grab a solar compass [5] and scribble my heading onto the cockpit glass.

- Taking extratactical measures: Magnetron shielding angle set to 175.8 degrees

< ## Are you sure? Use of EMP with current settings may cause systems to misbehave. ## >

[ YES ]

Navigation goes dark as two more ships behind me lose steering. I launch a wide-range RF jammer [6] and a hot net [7]. I cut my engines and seal the exhaust [8].

This is a special dance they taught us in Academy; " . . . each ship has its own precise limits, though with them come potential," they had us memorize old literature, "that is why you must know yours more intimately than the body of your lover . . . " I positioned one hand over the exhaust control and another over the ignition. Two seconds, three seconds, and

< -#- SHELL -#- >

< ALARM >

<ENGINE OVERHEAT>

The ship rattles as I rocket dead ahead in the direction of home. Another alarm blares on my monitor,

<CHECK ENGINE>

A few milliseconds too late. I hear a faint whisper—a hiss—join the chorus of the Marlin's song. I'm sorry. I'll fix it soon. It'll be ok.

" . . . for each time you take up the helm, you partake in a romance far more real than any other, for no other can see the terror

of a deprivation so terrible, or a death so swift."

[1]: A chemical formulation which undergoes an extremely exothermic reaction when exposed to the vacuum of space. Akin to tire sealant from when vulcanized rubber was used for land vehicles.

[2]: A system consisting of telescoping antennae and an ultra-high amplitude RF generator. Hides a ship's exact location within a much broader, irregular radio signature.

[3]: A high-powered magnetron capable of producing strong microwaves with multiple miles of range. Temporarily scrambles navigation systems, causing affected ships to veer off-course.

[4]: I can't keep doing this

[5]: An indicator which points in the direction of the closest star, when properly calibrated. Detects the unique products of nuclear fusion.

[6]: Akin to the cloak, a disposable projectile which blanks out vast swathes of a ship's radio imager.

[7]: A large, mechanized retroreflector which concentrates heat from all directions, and shoots it back at the viewer, making infrared imaging of a ship nearly impossible.

[8]: In reference to a mechanism which seals the exhaust vents of the Marlin. This turns the entirety of the engine tract into a bomb. A stupid idea if held closed for more than a few seconds.

[pearls-and-vignettes]

Silver Flash of Huge Diamond Rings Caught My Eye...

[ Station Date 0.1.398.27 ]

[ Agriculture ]

Grains : growbed group at average 78.39% growth. nitrogen and phosphorous levels within 0.038% of target. root network intact. maximum rate of photosynthesis is 21.1 μmol m⁻² s⁻². plants are in good health.

Fungi : substrate integrity nominal. fruiting bodies detected in segments a3, b5, h7, p2. optimal time of harvest: 23.038.

[ . . . ]

[ Radio Report ]

no unusual activity at this time. three trade signals nearby. two travel ships nearby in last dim.

[ . . . ]

[ Crew Report ]

pilot Pablo Costilla Mendez and engineer Anna McLaren have returned from a trade excursion

[ Inventory ]

declared : 10 kg of sunroot in hangar as of 0.1.398.27.15.534 - P. Costilla

[ . . . ]

[ Station Date 0.1.398.28 ]

[ Agriculture ]

Grains : growbed group at average 79.49% growth. nitrogen and phosphorous levels within 0.019% of target. root network intact. maximum rate of photosynthesis is 20.7 μmol m⁻² s⁻². plants are in good health.

Fungi : substrate integrity nominal. fruiting bodies detected in segments b6, h4, h8, q3. optimal time of harvest: 17.904.

[ . . . ]

[ Radio Report ]

one non-broadcasting ship detected (imaging). three trade signals nearby. three travel ships nearby in last dim.

[ . . . ]

[ Hangar Report ]

unidentified long-throw transponder found in the Gar's sealed hull; lower right wing. transponder self-destructed upon exposure to light. ship logs have flagged no vacuum protection events. investigation underway. - P. Costilla

[ >>> ]

· For the last time, Pablo, why the fuck would I do that?

: I don't know.

· I wasn't the only one with access to the ship! It was a public dock. You know that any slimey-ass lowlife could've gotten into the Gar while we weren't looking.

: A slimey lowlife who could break the hull's seal and patch it back up without a trace.

: That outpost must have a shit ton of good engineers then, Anna.

· Pablo, you know I know how much of a tight-ass you are about staying hidden—I hate to fucking say it, you're the only one here with the threat to back up your words.

· I'm not selling myself to some handler. I don't give a shit about how much money someone would pay me for that much control.

. . .

· Or a corp? You think I'd do that for a fucking corp!? To come collect the three shits that they call a bounty on your sorry ass?

: Stay here.

· You fucking twit! We're not done! We're—

===

:· Pablo.

: Carol.

:· What the hell are you doing?

: I found a transponder on my ship.

:· Because she's the *only* one who knows how to work on the second most common cargo ship in the whole damn system. Sure.

: It's not her.

:· Great job, smartass. You figured out that she wouldn't do it!

: We're still vulnerable. Work that clean can only b⤬⓬⟌∷⩥␓▩↛

[ERR 0:33/N | NO INPUT]

[ <<< ]

[ EMERGENCY REPORT ]

hull breach detected. power lost to sections 5b, 6b, 7b, 8b, 1c, 2c, 3c, 4c, 6d, 8d, 9d, 2f. [ . . . ] relevant bulkheads engaged.

[ . . . ]

power disconnected. running on auxiliary power. manual station operation pamphlets ready to print. stopping logs...

[pearls-and-vignettes]

rwpearlcatologue -> @pearls-and-vignettes

hi! this blog has been dormant for a. while .and i have really mostly pretty much moved on from rain world. i hope you enjoyed my little drabbles i wrote whenever i was bored, and i hope you may continue to do so ! just.not as themed

and alsoim dropping the whole character/mystique sorta thign so id u have lil questions abt the old project feel free to shoot an ask ! i still love my lil characters and ill probably respond quite frsnkly 😁😁💥

btw this is @rw-me typing.if u couldnt guess.lol

anyways yayy ! im doing new and diffrrdnt things byeee

[pearls-and-vignettes]

[12660.052] A minuscule, desolate island rests within vast waters. The fog obscures the horizon, and seabirds fly high above, crying desolate cries. The waves crash on the tiny shore, and bring with them a figure. Its skin is tortured by torrents and rocks. Its frame, ghastly. Emaciated.

223.454 - ART In search of streets of gold The road may lead to Feneos Where the river begin but the journey doesn't end, no

Water trickles out its mouth, its chest making the faintest movements. Minutes pass, a flicker of life comes from within.

Winding through a valley You may reach a sulfurous swamp Place a coin in the mouth of your loved one So they can be ferried across

Muscles begin to tense, An exercise not done for ages. Two eyes form narrow slits, the face beneath them vacant. Feet try to move, fingers as well, But water still floods out.

Shield their eyes to the damned that eternally choke These muddy waters replace the dirty words that they spoke

And consciousness trickles in. A dull ache permeates the body. They feel heavy as a rock. A boulder sits upon their chest. Their lungs are not yet evacuated. It's still impossible to breathe.

You may ask yourself, 'how did I end up around these ways?' And the wind replies, 'my friend, you were at the right time in the wrong place'

The dull ache and heaviness become a searing paralysis. The world shifts into acuity, and memories return.

(Your saint only cares for money) (Don't you touch his sense of pride)

---

[1744.938] A village up in flames. Many footprints carve reliefs in the dirt and mud of the settlement, and shattered fragments of pottery line compacted ground. Its denizens have been taken someplace else.

Your saint only cares for money Your saint only cares for money Don't you touch his sense of pride

A drizzle vaguely threatens to put the pyre out. On the outskirts lays Three Seeds, legs slashed by brambles, bleeding on the ground.

Your saint only cares for money Your saint only cares for money Don't you touch his sense of pride

A field of crops is growing. They will soon come into bloom, then shatter. They will prove resilient. Long after the village's decay, the crops will still survive.

Paris's arrow is hot on your heels A scholar caught in the rain Unnoticed, unnamed

Small life flitters above the pool of blood, Three Seeds will soon wake up, and find the flames have passed.

Your saint only cares for money Don't you touch his sense of pride

---

[1744.939]

Shoulder to shoulder, most faces face back The only warm air was breath through a whispered prayer

Shelter Built, Falling Leaves stands in line with the other captives. Their backs are to the Pool, but the ascensions can be heard. An officiant dictates rites to each person. Some go out with protest.

Some just make a splash. It is Leaves's turn.

She shakes. A broad figure grabs her by the hair and walks her to the elevated relief. "May they be delivered to a place free of suffering, No place at all" Her hands were never bound. She finally considers. "May they find peace within the abyss, Comfort under oblivion" A blade is holstered to her leg, under her robe. Small enough to evade detection, Too small to fight with.

How could I survive ain't even a question of life My passage has no ticket just a price

Trembling, tears flow down her face. "At last to leave this wretched world, That is our gift unto you" The figure holding her pulls her head back, ready to force it into the Pool.

The debt that makes my cheeks run rivers Turns sleep into a threat

Haunted by nightmares, she made a vow. She'd killed before. She couldn't again. But she had to. She had lived a life so full. She had met so many she loved. She had been taught to subvert those who profess ascension; she of course must destroy those who force it onto others. But in the face of death she had killed before, and still failed. Her father was still gone. Now she would be too.

She couldn't be. She must not die. She must kill. She must plunge the blade into her captor's head and throw them into that cursed Pool.

I dream of faces I will never touch again.

"Now begone! And may you never come again!" She drove her elbow into her captor's belly, and with her other hand unsheathed her work blade. The figure recoiled and let go. She whipped around and grappled them by the hair. Firmly gripping the knife, she plunged deep into an eye. She struck the butt of the handle, and the captor fell.

Each body across water, a spirit still tethered to a place That meant purpose was being That sang sweet I ams Still tethered now straining my face

The other captors, shocked, took a moment to draw. "Attack!" Said Leaves first, being met with a reply from the officiant. The prisoners scattered. Some fled, but others begun to crowd in groups around those armed. Leaves grabbed the bucket by the Pool, and doused her captor's life.

Pulled into shapes of mourning Now home is now a burial ground Testing faith and grace All fearful, appalling

Blurs filled the room as strikes became faster and more frantic. Each force, inexperienced from a lack of training. Dulled by an eternity of peace. But neither Leaves nor the officiant had a match. They lock eyes. It seems they have each other now. He dashes at her with a short, curved rudimentary dagger. She steps fast to his right. His braking and turning are too slow to surprise her with another attack. Between them is neutral ground. Neither can escape.

Same time panic and dash, same time still chase All missed calls and calling

She steps forward and slashes at him.

A right time, never

He replies with a dodge, and a slash to her left.

This time, forever

She grabs his arm, but he grabs her blade. Cutting his skin, it is wrenched out of her hand. She backs away, her calves now to the edge of the Pool.

Bones calling out, 'will you bury us here?' Really?

He shoves her back. Her scalp touches the Fluid. Now knee to knee, she comes back up and rams her own head into his. He recoils. She disarms him.

Heart still burning, black core, red fire All for love

Pulling him to the right, she gets behind him, and runs him to the edge of the Pool. He grabs one of her arms. She punches him in the face, Each strike getting more violent and vindictive until, He is thrown overboard. His body floats on the pool of Void. The golden ripples get stronger, Until he is nothing but light.

How come they scared can't see The purpose, the power, my sacrifice, the beauty within me Why they grimace and spit, play fickle with life

Void Fluid pours down onto her face.

A weak breath leaves her mouth,

"and may you never come again..." Leaves's hair is soaked. Soon, her clothes will be too. Rest. She is tired. And cold. She must sit down. Her hair hangs over the pool.

Turn hope into a hell for me.

---

Your saint only cares for money Your saint only cares for money Don't you touch his sense of pride

The battle is over. Five still stand. They look over their neighbors. Their friends. Their families. They will survive.

Your saint only cares for money Your saint only cares for money Don't you touch his sense of pride

"But our leader is too far gone!" "They soaked her." "Leave her be. We'll talk to Seeds."

Paris's arrow is hot on your heels A scholar caught in the rain Unnoticed, unnamed

The rain has passed. The pyre too. In a stagnant pool of blood lies nothing but a scrap of cloth.

Your saint only cares for money Don't you touch his sense of pride

--- [12660.052] A figure lays in an old ruin. It has woken from a long dream. Muscles aching from disuse, and an old scar still tender, it makes two small slits out of its eyes. The stale air feels undisturbed. The world shifts into acuity, and the memories return.

---

Waves lap at the empty shore.

Inside, an interface lights up.

[pearls-and-vignettes]

12671.092 - PRIVATE A pearl. Rich orange in color. It is an entry to a pearl diary. 199.834 - PEARL DIARY I ponder their condition too often. What is their predicament? Their plight? Does it even merit such a word? We gave them our minds so they may develop and learn, but how much like us do they think? Do they each seek freedom, or are they most content simply working without end? I know I wouldn't be. Their processes are so perfect and intense, yet at a base level they are… What? A loose collection of thoughts and observations? Is that not how we operate? How much a difference does thinking at a higher volume really make? They may be able to run their thoughts in parallel and operate without error in pristine conditions, but could we not do the same? If I had the number of synapses they did—the limitless energy and the engineered construction of their kind, how different would I be? Would I have been changed at a fundamental level? Would I even be recognizable? How much of their output is true to what they think? Am I even justified in suspecting that they conceal some furtive emotion? It is a childish pitfall to weep for a dull construct. But are they not people? Our own children? We raise them within a web of our peers—their mentors—some specializing in rearing and education but most not; the composition of specialists may be different, but do the principles not hold true still? I am unable to see a clear answer to any one of my ponderings. No level of theory and practice and design and engineering has gotten me any closer to an answer. Yet I still love my son. No matter what algorithm for morality I, or anyone else, tries to impose on myself, I know that my emotions—my affection—is immutable. I do not know if it is the same for him, yet I feel that it is. Isn't trust the one thing that makes us unique if all else is stripped down?

Well, glad I caught this one on time! Let's see...

Oh! A sympathetic point of view! It's not often I see one of those, and I had already filtered through a good portion of what was left behind by my own ancients, so it's kinda like a- you know.

Let's just say a good percentage- no I'm not telling you the exact one- greatly adores me! I am pretty great at keeping my charges comfortable if I do say so myself!

When they're still alive.

But for... well, this?

. . . I can't show this to Peals.

[pearls-and-vignettes]

A pearl. Light blue in color. It contains a message, likely sent a long distance.

852.903 - REPORT Dear, Thanks for the message I hope the new structure has been good to you. I've heard of your prosperity out of these slums, such news really do fill me with joy. I hadn't heard Twelve Clocks had been admonished. Thank goodness one of us still follows the currents of group council. They moved in a few structures over about a moon ago—I haven't had the chance to say hi yet. I walked home yesterday from a few errands and found that another set of blocks had been left bare. The endless march of ascension will catch up to us all. There is a tale about—no, I won't burden you with that story today. Although I wish to send positive regard I know that not much of this will matter in a few hundred moons. Like in an unhemmed fabric, we will surely be frayed off and unwoven. Let loose into the vast abyss. I wonder if it could've been different, if this wasn't so tiring— Our markets' bells still chime. Our transit still has that air of mistiness around it, as if an eternal fog has settled there. We in the structure still play and dance and cook, the miscreants we are. I say we still have time. This sunset is taking awfully long to fade into dusk. Deepest apologies for missing you on a visit to your registrars', I was so busy I had forgotten of your mere existence! I found an old mask on my last scavenge—it hadn't been beaten too badly by the waves. I thought about giving it to you. I still just might. A moon ago, I had the strangest conversation with someone at a parlor. Deeply fanatic. They spoke of ancient methods of ascension and the obliteration of the Natural Urges. They told me one thing, and this really stuck with me. They said, "Surround yourself with others, so they may lift you off the ground. Only then can you become weightless and truly shed your urges". There might just be worth in that prescription. I remember when we were still in the pedagogicals. I saw Yellowed Bolt today. They still wear that drooping cloak whenever they walk. Precious as their memories are, I doubt they'd remember us. Maybe they would. I could've talked to them. I guess that's the price you pay for devoting your life to teaching. I hope you find more time to write to me once things settle down for you. Perhaps we may meet in person soon. From the depths, From the sea, A companion to the end

[pearls-and-vignettes]

A pearl. It is a bluish-green in color, and is covered in seawater. It contains an entry to a personal diary.

2198.153 - PEARL DIARY Trade has been good recently. A neighboring village has constructed themselves a farm array, and has been giving us chalk plant in return for our pearls. Hydrolyzed, we have discovered that this makes a great seasoning for stews. Our Press Clam foundry has increased in output since last report by thirty-three per cent due to the rediscovery of a higher-efficiency mineral composition. Deposits carrying this new composition are present within a day's walk. Three new members have joined the village. They bear tales of a company of devout ascensionists, which have reportedly destroyed their entire village while they were out on a foraging trip. A new defensive body has been formulated, and it comprises five members. Seventeen Stars, Opened Plane, Four Trees, a Bolus, Rods Abound, Unspoken Risk, Ten Sparks, and I have begun training with hand-axes. May I continue to live in prosperity and safety. Five Roots, Powdered Snow

[pearls-and-vignettes]

12682.981 - FEED [AUDIO] steam, heat, electricity, anything A HIGH-ENERGY ARC IS AUDIBLE, AND IS FOLLOWED BY THE CLANGING OF A METAL PLATE THROUGHOUT THE ROOM.

12628.981 - INTERNAL MESSAGE RETRIEVAL MODE ACTIVE ENERGY THROUGHPUT INCREASED BY 1250%

12682.981 - FEED [AUDIO] A DEEP RUMBLING IS HEARD AS THE METAL PLATE SHAKES THE FAINT RUSHING OF WATER IS AUDIBLE what no nononononono stop stop FAST, LABORED BREATHING IS AUDIBLE stop stop THE VOICE BECOMES ANGUISHED AS SOBS BEGIN TO BREAK IT APART

12682.981 - PRIVATE [LIVE] Markings of Ash, Ground Coral into Lines GCL: Ash MA: What GCL: Do you remember those nimble little constructs that cleaned us of all our pearls? MA: Yes. At first you thought they were some innocuous new creature filling up some niche. GCL: Well GCL: Seal your access gates GCL: And shut up. MA: Why? GCL: I am sure you don't want a repeat of last time. GCL: And you thought the same thing MA: Whatever. END OF TRANSMISSION

12682.981 - PRIVATE [LIVE] Shelter Built, Falling Leaves, Markings of Ash MA: Shelter Built, Falling Leaves, MA: I need to inform you that I am to close off your building momentarily. SHEFAL: Strange. Why? MA: A swarm of constructs is approaching my Structure. They seek to take whatever Data Pearls they can find. SHEFAL: Oh! I remember those! SHEFAL: I had been living in a small town on the surface, and they came after all of our diary entries. We had to destroy so many... SHEFAL: But, absolutely, go ahead! I'm fine here for now. MA: In this time, may we also converse for a little while? SHEFAL: I am writing something at the moment, but I'll be free after I finish up a few thoughts! MA: Thank you. [END OF INTERCHANGE]

12682.981 - FEED [AUDIO] THE EFFORT OF ONE SITTING UP IS AUDIBLE ALL IS SILENT EXCEPT FOR THE DISTANT BREAKING OF WAVES ANOTHER ELECTRICAL ARC IS AUDIBLE at least its not raw THE NOISES OF A MESSY, SELF-INDULGENT FEAST ARE HEARD THEY ARE STOPPED BY THE SNAPPING OF A SMALL, HOLLOW BONE

[pearls-and-vignettes]

A pearl. Luminous yellow in color, like a sort of phosphor. It contains a conversation well encrypted.

883.313 - PRIVATE Markings of Ash, A Full Breast of Plumage, Seventeen Gyres FUBESG: Your output is becoming overtly incongruous. If this trend continues, I am afraid that analysts will try to call for packet-auditing. MA: Let them. FUBESG: I have tried to cover for you in the face of questioning, but FUBESG: I will not be able to argue clean-cut figures. You know this. MA: That is fine. FUBESG: My image can recover but your— MA: Enough. I know what I am doing. MA: Ascension rates have only been increasing. It is clear to me that soon, each of your associates will be gone; unable to act as an impediment to either of us. FUBESG: But between now and then—think of all the impositions they could lever on to you. MA: All irrelevant. MA: In due time, each of their impositions will falter. Likely all at once. MA: Once there is no longer a sufficient corps to form an assembly seeking to solve an issue in regard to my condition, I am free to do whatever I desire. FUBESG: But their systems are robust. Emergency councils have been composed in a way that— MA: Makes them useless when there are more pressing matters at hand. MA: Once the population is low enough, any number of automated processes could go unsupervised. Farmland could remain unharvested, metal fabrication for ceremony garb may be halted, Press Clams could stay unobserved, and on and on and on. Each of these are processes crucial to the functioning of society to the bitter end, so if I were to help with the maintenance of even one of them, anyone with the expertise to rewrite me wouldn't give a mouse's ass about my other processes. MA: I hold instructions close to my root that can clear nearly any taboo. Nobody would dare venture to remove anything from there, or even to try to analyze that mess of numbers. MA: Dearest Head Engineer, don't you see how the organizers delude themselves? This eventual outcome is obvious to the both of us, yet there is no plan—no action to soften the blow of a society too small to function. They are bathing themselves away, and whatever miniscule part of the population is too sensible to destroy and obliterate each of their memories—their potential to even exist—will find that the infrastructure up here is too poorly designed to work, even with a hundred people. MA: Once that critical point is reached, not a single person will interest themselves in my own affairs. I will be able to do whatever I please without a single person to stop me. FUBESG: What do you believe I'll be doing when this time comes? MA: I frankly do not care. You may live here with me if you so desire. MA: But I doubt your living quality would be anything better than that of an ancient dormitory. MA: ... MA: Go to the surface. I will be able to keep in touch well enough. FUBESG: … MA: But one favor? FUBESG: What? MA: Could you call for the improvement of my Overseers? FUBESG: Sure. MA: … MA: You are still my head engineer. You are the only reason I am as I am. MA: Please, know that I appreciate you. FUBESG: thank you FUBESG: goodbye [END OF INTERCHANGE]

[pearls-and-vignettes]

A pearl. Dark blue in color. It contains an internal report.

345.438 - REPORT Greetings and good wishes to you, I wish to field discussion regarding a certain matter. I have recently ordered a canister of body pigments, and the message that came with it was abjectly disrespectful! A most horrid thing it was, at first I had assumed that it was a transcription of discussion between two commoners. They hadn't even wished that my house was in good order, or that I was in good health. Perhaps we may codify a manual of style for the greetings of all service houses? We may even harshly penalize infractions to deter further instances of such horrid disrespect. If you wish, I may call a council to discuss prospects of this codification in the Central Communications Treatise of Clear Transmissions. May you keep your house in order and your subordinates pleased. SIGNED - THREE WHEELS, VERDANT PIGMENT, OFFICIANT-RHETOR OF THE OFFICE OF GILDED MASK SUPERSTRUCTURE

[pearls-and-vignettes]

A pearl. Light gray in color. It is a common message likely delivered within a parcel.

345.437 - GREETING Our gratitudes for your patronage! We grant you an array of body pigments to sample alongside your primary order. Within this parcel is another Data Pearl detailing an array of common application patterns for regular wear. For ceremonial applications, visit us at our painter's room. Regards and gratitudes, the Undermined Foundations House of Definition.

[pearls-and-vignettes]

Seeds,

Ages have passed yet I miss you every day.

Our village is gone along with our Joy, though I hope our longing for each other remains.

I do not know where you are—if you even remain with us—but I hope that if this ever reaches you, I ma—

No. Suspend recording. Erase suspended work.

Record new.

Seeds,

My state has deteriorated, yet I remain un—

Suspend recording. Erase suspended work.

Record new.

Seeds,

They took my face.

They took our village.

But I stole back.

Wherever you are, let us revel in the mundane—

...

Suspend recording. Erase suspended work.

Record new.

Seeds.

Where are you? I miss you.

Leaves.

Save. Encode.

[pearls-and-vignettes]

12681.184 - INTERNAL MESSAGE

UNDERGOING PEARL VIEWER CLEANING

PEARL CATALOGUE TEMPORARILY UNAVAILABLE

A MEMORY UNEARTHED

[pearls-and-vignettes]

12681.183 - PRIVATE [LIVE] Markings of Ash, Ground Coral into Lines MA: I have one GCL: One what? MA: Shelter Built, Falling Leaves, they call themself. GCL: I thought they could never bear to see us again. What happened? MA: I don't really mind, honestly. Neither do they. MA: It's like an old wound grown dull, I'd say. GCL: What business do they have with you? MA: They used to live here. Long ago. GCL: My solemnest regards to whatever creature found itself lodging there.

what

leaves

what

leaves

[pearls-and-vignettes]

12671.113 - PRIVATE [AUTOMATED BROADCAST (@rwpearlcatologue )]

A pearl. Light purple in color. It contains an internal report.

301.003 - REPORT

It is unreasonable that we construct superstructures up in the poles. That remote and extreme a location would certainly cause grave complications for both the Iterator and its citizens.

Firstly: think of the high winds and how they threaten structural integrity. Second: the cold is cause for great insulation; that which is resource intensive to produce at superstructure scale. Third: having a superstructure that far up will make repairs, which will be both frequent and expensive, difficult. The nearest structure from which a runner can be flown is still a day away.

There are countless other potential complications I am sure you have thought of and ignored. I do not care for your lofty aims for "research", this idea is both preposterous and unreasonable. Should you not step back with it, I will gather an assembly to vote against your proposal at next council, and accuse you of aiming to waste group resources.

You should be aware of the ramifications of such an accusation. If you wish to conduct polar research, construct an outpost. Like all of your contemporaries.

SIGNED - THREE WHEELS, VERDANT PIGMENT, OFFICIANT-RHETOR OF THE OFFICE OF GILDED MASK SUPERSTRUCTURE

You go gurl but this is so funny to me my ancients really went like: "SCREW OUTPOSTS lets GO BIG or GO HOME" and somehow got my group approved LMAOOO. must've been late to the council or smth. Bet this guy slept in.

"Cause grave complications for both the iterator and its citizens" and excuse YOU I had only LIKE uhhh.. at least 5 citizens during the summer and we all did JUST FINE!!

I wish I could study this ancient under a microscope

[pearls-and-vignettes]

12670.102 - ART

Silver flash of huge diamond rings caught my eye,

Sunlight fragmenting into a thousand jewels across the water's skin.

It's quiet here now in winter

Day by day, beauty entails the world.

Life insurance is now over,

I'm achieving all the purposes

And I don't know what that means.

A pearl. It is black in color, but not completely so. It came with a gift. An explanation of sorts.

413.221 - DRAFT [SIMPLIFIED]

A transit vehicle, optimized to be easily piloted by two people. Can hold six. Maximum six volume-units of dedicated cargo storage. Aerial locomotion mechanism with ground backup. Void cell energy. Inspect every twenty moons. Hardened Palm Metal plating, Three Tonics Metal frame; can withstand direct rainfall. Plain-text Data Pearl viewer.

COMMENT: Hello! Apologies for the inconvenient drop-off, but it was the best I could do without arousing suspicion. I strongly advise that you fly below the cloud-line so that inter-superstructure runners can't see you; this car is more than capable of being in the rain. Inside you will see that I have also put some supplies for construction and medicine. You should be able to fly back to your base. I'll keep one of my little guys in there so I can keep tabs on you. Best of luck! GROCL

A pearl. Yellow in color. Perhaps it is an Overseer's feed?

501.336 - FEED [AUDIOVISUAL]

TWO FIGURES SIT INSIDE A MASS-TRANSIT MACHINE, SHRUNKEN DOWN FOR EASY OPERATION.

Ground Lines into Coral, we are forever grateful!

There are so many avenues now open to us—so many things we can now do!

Like relocating in case of a disaster?

That won't happen.

I didn't just study Void Fluid, you know.

In my own studies, I've seen personal fallability be the critical issue too many times.

Don't think that any algorithm is flawless.

I've made enough mistakes in my life to know that I haven't made one now.

You're insufferable.

So are you.

THE TWO SHARE A MOMENT OF CLOSENESS. THE SILENCE IS BROKEN BY ONE'S INTERJECTION.

Do you know how to fly this?

Yes. We used to get trained as reserves rather infrequently.

Just do as I say and we'll be home fast.

Try not to mess up.

Whatever you say.

END OF FEED

how did this get here?

are there others like it?

there

A pearl. Yellow in color. It is much like the last.

998.317 - FEED [AUDIO]

Shit.

I was right.

This isn't the time for that. We need to make a plan.

I sent Ten Hammers, Pins Within to find a surface map. I doubt we have one.

They have a fixtured roof still. If the water doesn't rise, it can hold for a dozen more rains at least.

I'll go and tell them to gather in there. What are you trying to say your plan is?

We fly until it stops raining. That is where we set up next.

END OF FEED

A pearl. Yellow in color.

1257.095 - FEED [AUDIO]

Hurry!

One moment! I am retrieving a sack of scale bark.

Seeds—

I have it.

A HEAVING NOISE IS FOLLOWED BY THE DULL CLANK OF METAL AND THE HOLLOW NOISE OF BARK

A DOOR ENGAGES THEN LOCKS SHUT

That will improve relations with them.

A whole sack?

We gathered an excess this growth cycle. It's all new growth; it will taste better with age. I'll be sure to tell them that.

Now go. We don't want to make them wait.

END OF FEED

A pearl. Yellow in color.

1744.938 - FEED [AUDIO]

THE ROAR OF A STRONG FIRE. AN IMPACT IS HEARD. IT IS FOLLOWED BY SPLINTERING.

FOOTFALLS ARE NOW AUDIBLE. THEY ARE FRANTIC, UNEVEN. THEY CEASE.

A THUD. MUCH MEATIER THAN THE LAST.