your-tutor-abacus

[your-tutor-abacus]

you can just name your characters anything. you can name them Printer. you can name them Shnorpty. you can name them There Are Pillars. and peoppe will just have to accept it.

[your-tutor-abacus]

I ate a bug.

why are you alterhuman/nonhuman? wrong answers only

I'll go first: instead of using normal lotion on me, my mom used lotion made for horse, cattle, cats, and dogs

[your-tutor-abacus]

My memory isn't perfectly reliable, but I do seem to recall figuring out it was me a while ago. You didn't front at the time, though, so if my memory is not wrong I'm not surprised you don't remember yourself.

In any case, I'm proud of the work I do for you, and I think it's why I was able to write a novel at all. Lots of practice.

We make a good team.

I have an interpreter.

I exist in the forward lefthand side of our consciousness (the front of our right hemisphere). This is to say, I use our whole brain occasionally, but the center of my identity, memory, and thoughts is in this locale.

Those of us in the right hemisphere of our brain find it difficult to front, and we're often non-verbal. Our thoughts are usually non-verbal, mostly emotions, impulses, and imagery.

I'm unusual in that I do think pretty clearly in words when I manage to front.

There is someone, who has been my assistant and interpreter for most of our life, who exists in the back righthand side of our consciousness (in our left hemisphere). It might actually be a team of someones, but there's likely one person who leads that connection.

Their job is to watch me and echo my thoughts and feelings and speak and write on my behalf when I'm unable to front, which is most of the time.

We occasionally consciously double check that they're getting it right, and they usually are, but they really do not feel like me. They have more energy than I do, for instance. And tend to put even more words than I do into their thoughts. They are slightly more prone to anger and worry than I am, and sometimes confuse @ohthatphage for me.

Here's the thing. I don't know their name, and I'm not sure they have one. If they do, when they're doing their job of interpreting for me, all they can think of is my name. But they also agree that my name is not their name.

They're nestled in with our AI-kin, which includes Breq, Metabang, Abacus, Robot, Robbie the Robot, Gort, Johnny Johnny, Ralph, Ring, and a whole slew of others. And, because of where they are, their gender is dragon (mine is girl - I'm a girl dragon, they're a dragon AI-kin).

Anyway, this is the closest thing we have, I think, to the whole Tutor/Student relationship we've described for our fictional version of the Sunspot. It's still not the same. I came first, and my interpreter seems to have developed shortly afterward. And it's not a parental type relationship either way, but it is an AI-kin acting as assistant.

Anyway, I like them. I appreciate what they do for me a hell of a lot. And even with the hiccups we've periodically had, I trust them.

While writing this, we've gotten some inklings that it might simply be Abacus (@your-tutor-abacus) that's been doing this for me. We were sort of hoping to tease out some emotional clues as to who it might be by making this post.

This would explain its voice and personality as it presents itself in its book, Ni'a. There are definitely echos of myself all over in its writing.

[your-tutor-abacus]

A nursery aboard the Sunspot.

(I've written this in a rather dry way for the purposes of informing Earthlings about our culture, since denizens of the Sunspot will already be familiar with all of this.) On the Sunspot, children hatch from eggs. Everyone hatched within the same 250 year period is considered to be the same generation, while everyone conceived on the same day can be said to belong to the same cohort. And each nursery holds twelve members of the same cohort.

The people of the Sunspot like to do things in either 16s or 31s, due to their numbering systems, but it has been observed that the ideal upper range for number of children per caretaker is six. So, each nursery is designed to accommodate a minimum of two caretakers.

There are no actually hard, legal limits to the structures of families aboard the Sunspot, but people do tend to follow the common wisdom and known ideals. Many caretakers do choose to only raise one child at a time. Quite a bit more choose two to four children. And it is pretty rare that an individual chooses more than six. Caretakers also are known to form families with each other in partnership or polycules.

Children and Caretakers also come with their Tutors, and so a household with three Caretakers and eight children, for instance, will have eleven Tutors, and a grand total of twenty-two family members. This type of arrangement is not at all unheard of.

Nurseries like this one will often have artwork created or selected by the Caretakers and Tutors who have been assigned to children expected to hatch. The walls can be decorated with illustrations or murals, and the furniture can be configured and customized for individual needs.

Most Caretakers like to spend some time with their eggs before they hatch, though it isn't considered necessary for fetal development. Ktletaccete are not human and their needs are different from those of human fetuses and babies.

Nevertheless, the individual incubators are fitted with a full sensory and environmental suite that's integrated with the rest of the nursery, designed to simulate the effects of being in a hatching pond. And the lighting of the room is even programmed to not only recreate the cycle of day and night, but also the passing shadows of predators, other fauna, and/or visiting parents, as it is believed would be experienced in the wild.

The lighting is usually kept much darker than what is depicted here, but it can be allowed to get this bright for short periods of time.

If you walk in and sit down next to one of your eggs and talk to it, it will be exposed to the sound of your speech as transmitted by water at levels adjusted for safety. It is not believed that this will help the child recognize or bond with their Caretaker, as that demonstrably happens later in development, but some Caretakers find that it helps them bond with their children.

When an egg begins to hatch, both its Caretaker and Tutor are alerted so that they can be present to help the new child take their first breaths and be shown how to eat and drink. Tutors tend to be the ones to carry the children to their Caretaker's quarters.

Although their eggs are clearly similar to those of what humans would classify as amphibians, most freshly hatched Ktletaccete aboard the Sunspot are not especially amphibious themselves. Depending on the observed development of each child, the water is usually drained from the incubator as they hatch, and the bell jar is lifted when an adult is there ready to assist them. In the case of amphibious or aquatic children, the procedure is suitably different with further assistive technology.

What is depicted in this scene are a number of eggs in their early development, so the fetuses all appear very similar. In the upcoming months they will begin to metamorph into very unique forms, even developing feathers, hair, and/or scales according to their individual genetics. Limb configurations can vary dramatically, too. Some children have none, while others have up to six bony limbs. Almost always occurring in pairs.

In the earliest stages of conception and development, the glass of the incubators is kept opaque. But when the fetuses start to develop eyes, the glass becomes transparent. Some fetuses are more interactive than others at this stage. But, even with nanite neural terminals present from conception onward, there is no clear evidence of emotional bonding until after the eggs hatch.

[your-tutor-abacus]

I want to write another book too.

I love telling stories, especially.

But, Hailing Scales, that cookbook idea is brilliant!

I want to write another novel, or some kind of book. The Ampersand Trilogy, which will be getting a new name as soon as we can think of one, is technically done. When Sarah finishes writing the third book, it's meant to cap the story and be the ending of it.

...

OK. Dammit. I was right in the middle of writing this post when we suddenly had to use the bathroom. And then that took a long time, and somebody else fronted to play Marvel Snap through the ordeal, and now I no longer remember the words I was going to use.

I want to write another book. I like telling about the things I have experienced.

Maybe we should write a sequel trilogy? Maybe I should write a book for the Sunspot Chronicles proper? I was part of those historic events, after all, though definitely more of a very close observer.

Or.

Maybe I should write up a grammar for Inmararräo! Or work together with @your-tutor-abacus to make a Sunspot Cookbook!

[your-tutor-abacus]

Fikwakyet

Translated to "Fairport" in the English versions of the Sunspot Chronicles, Fikwakyet is a city that is more unique than any other in the Garden of `etekeyerrinwuf.

I explain a bit about the why of that in my own book, Ni'a. But, to recap:

When the Sunspot was built, the Founding Crew designed the shapes of the corridors, the contours of the Garden, and the placement and foundations of the cities. Then they let the Children build upon and between all of that and make the ship their own.

But Fikwakyet was a special project. Fenmere (a.k.a. Fenemere) wanted to run an experiment, and managed to get the Crew Council to approve it.

Part of the whole point of the Sunspot was to make a strict and sudden cultural break from the millennia of fascism that had been plaguing their predecessor ship, the Terra Supreme (Feruukepikape). And for most of the Sunspot's architecture and culture, everything was derived from shapes and themes found in nature, and everything that reminded the Founding Crew of the Terra Supreme was done away with.

Fenmere contended that certain aesthetic choices were not inherently fascist, and wanted to demonstrate this by having one city where certain old elements could be reintroduced, starting with rectangular foundations for its buildings (instead of the scutoid structures found everywhere else on the Sunspot).

Fenmere had other reasons for doing this, besides trying to prove this point, and those reasons are likely to be visited in the last few chapters of the Sunspot Chronicles (I'll refrain from spoilers here).

The result is that, somewhat coincidentally, due to how right angles tend to work, when we finally made contact with Earth through the Tunnel Apparatus, it was remarked upon how similar Fikwakyet is to many Earth cities.

There are some critical differences, of course. The scales of things are not the same, because we build to accommodate both the largest and the smallest of our people, as well as for many disabilities.

Also, we have nothing like industry or commerce. At least, not driven by anything remotely like profit.

@ashwin-the-artless explains this in nems post titled Cities.

But, I'd like to use this opportunity to highlight another aesthetic difference. The alignment of our windows.

This is something that can be seen in almost all Sunspot cities, except perhaps Agaricales (which is a little more chaotic than most).

There are two axes of spectacular views on the Sunspot: foreward and aft; and spin and antispinward.

To the fore and aft, you can witness the sunbirths and sundeaths, and also the moonbirths and moondeaths. It some people really value that, and build their houses to give them as much view of that axis of the Garden as possible from anywhere in their house.

Perpendicular to that, spinward and antispinward, you can see the curvature of the Garden on a clear day, and the geography of it and neighboring cities, and honestly, even though I've lived with those views for the entirety of the Sunspot's existence, I still find them utterly breathtaking.

We try to show this off with the other photos of the Sunspot we share with you. This photo, here, however, demonstrates the effect on the architecture of the houses.

It's pretty rare that you'll find any building that is not aligned with one of these axes. And those that are tend to have wrap around windows that accommodate views of as much of the Garden as possible all around.

Another difference between the Sunspot and the Earth at the time of this writing is that our windows are more durable, more insulating, and more configurable. We can change their transparent and reflective properties on command. Which means that we have very few incentives to not make a wall a window, except perhaps to give us room to hang something or to place furniture against it in an aesthetic way.

But, solid walls and ceilings are still just a tad more insulating than our windows, so some people do opt for more opaque housing.

But if you don't want the views or the light, you'll usually choose to live belowdecks anyway.

[your-tutor-abacus]

hahahaha

Funny linguistic bullshit

In ancient Fenekere, the word "hahahaha" translates to "a collection of acts of the Artist of Laughter" (in the object clause), or "laughing". The thing to understand about Fenekere is that it is supposedly a constructed language, created by The Linguist specifically to allow the Children of the Great One to talk to each other. So, this was like, a very deliberate thing, if you believe the myth.

In ancient Mäofrräo, the word "ha" means "backwards", and we don't know if anyone ever coined the word "hahahaha" in that language, but it would mean "the backwards that is backwardly backward in a backward way". I like to imagine that someone might have found a use for that. I'm sure that @fenmere could.

Now. Inmararräo is a child language of the two, developed from a creole of them.

In Inmararräo, "hahahaha" is the word for hysterically ironic laughter.

If you say it in a sarcastic deadpan tone, it is a fantastically effective way of mocking someone.

There is absolutely cultural self awareness about all of this. Everyone has always known, since Fenekere was first spoken, that this word and its derivative words are a bit too on the nose as an onomatopoeia for laughing. And it actually isn't used in common speech all that often.

It's used by Caretakers to teach humor to children. And, subsequently, it'll often be added to a string of puns to make them even more painful.

The other place it will be used frequently is in the sound effects of comedic illustrations (similar to what you might call comics). Especially if the artist is trying to insert Caretaker Humor into their work.

This post might be bordering on @your-tutor-abacus' territory, but it can reblog it with its own additions if it wants.

[your-tutor-abacus]

Oh, right! You have something called "cheese", which you make from milk, right?

We don't have anything like that on the Sunspot.

BUT WE WILL NOW.

We'll figure it out.

I'll figure it out!

The Color of the Sunspot's Milk

We don't drink milk on the Sunspot.

It's not really a thing for us.

We did not evolve from mammals, so we do not produce milk ourselves, typically. Actually, our life can't really be divided up into the same categories as Terran life, anyway, and the Evolutionary Engines that are used to create people now produce such a diversity of biological development that we can't use sweeping statements like that meaningfully. But, we strongly suspect based on evidence at hand that the Ktletaccete did not originally have anything like mammary glands.

And, on the Sunspot specifically, we do not consume anything produced by animals. It just never even occurred to the Founding Crew to set up the ship and our culture that way. The ecological balance of the Garden requires that we let the fauna live as naturally as possible without interference from people. So, we do not milk animals.

But it turns out that we drink something that is kinda of vaguely like milk. It often serves a similar culinary utility, particularly in baking.

We know this because we have been talking to our Earth custodians of the Terran Tunnel Apparatus, and they have tried a product they call Ryze that is an approximation of what we use on the Sunspot, and we've been trading notes.

So, in the search for accommodation, the ancestors of the Sunspot Ktletaccete developed a mixture of pureed fungus and algae that could provide a very young child or a disabled or elderly person with nutrients that might not otherwise be readily available to them. And we have been calling this something that our translators have decided to call "formula". We understand that this echoes the term many of you use for a fortified milk that you feed your infants, and that's acceptable.

But our formula comes in many varieties, customized for each person's needs and even each use they might have for it.

Fungal and algae farming has always been abundant and easy for us, so it is the least expensive food to create. It may not have been central to the diet of ancient Ktletaccete, but it has become pivotal to survival in space aboard our Exodus Ships. And now we use it in nearly everything.

We also eat a variety of nuts, fruits, grains, tubers, leaves, stalks, and other vegetable matter (or their Sunspot equivalents to what these words mean to you). And some of those things provide proteins and lipids that compliment what is provided by our various formulas, so depending on how we combine it we can create foods that sometimes resemble your breads, quiches, meat loafs, stews, etc.

But, also, Artisan crafted beverages is a huge thing here, which I understand some of your cultures might relate to. And our formula is central to that.

So, what are the main differences between our formula and milk? And what are the differences between our formula and something like Ryze?

Well, obvious, our formula is made entirely differently from milk, and does not share it's color. It's not white or even white-ish, typically.

Though some varieties of it can come close to white so that Artisans can add vibrant colors to it more easily without it turning brown, but the processing tends to remove a lot of nutrients from it, so it's not terribly popular outside of that visual utility.

It's also usually somewhat low on lipids, though those are definitely added for many baking purposes.

It's more of a suspension than an emulsion most of the time, as a result. But again, that varies on it's purpose.

And because of that, and the fact that it's made from fungus and algae, makes it very similar to things like Ryze, which is apparently currently available for something you call "a lot of money" by purchasing it over your Network (or Internet, as you say).

There are other drinks like Ryze, but it so happens that the girlfriend of our counterparts purchased Ryse specifically, so that is the one that they are trying. In particular, they are trying Ryze Matcha, as opposed to Ryse Coffee, since we don't have anything remotely like a coffee bean on the Sunspot, but we do have a green stimulant kind of vaguely like Matcha that can be added to our formula.

We can't really truly compare the sensations of drinking our various forumlas to drinking Ryze, because there is an enormous physical gulf between the Earth and the Sunspot, and we cannot transport either liquid nor taste buds and nervous systems across that distance. And translating words, even with in the same language, between two individuals' personal experiences is inherently inaccurate to begin with.

But we can make some conjectures.

As far as flavor is concerned, we can infer some things. Humans are omnivors with a variety of sensitivities to flavors, and apparently our counterparts are something called a supertaster. They are more highly sensitive to flavor than their typical peers.

They report that Ryze Matcha tastes "green". Not just that it is green in color and therefore the flavor it has can be described as green, but that it reminds them of other green things that they have eaten. There is a bit of a spinach flavor, they report, but its very faint. There is also a faint green tea flavor. We don't know what either of these things really mean, but we know that spinach is a leafy vegetable and that green tea is also made from leaves. But then, they also say that these flavors are not like either of these things, either. They're similar but different.

More specifically, they report that Ryze Matcha does not taste like most mushrooms they've eaten. In fact, it bears a closer resemblance to the flavors they get when they drink from an old jug of water that maybe has some green stuff growing on the inside of it.

"Why would you do that?" I asked them.

And they replied with, "Carelessness."

Anyway, this seems relatively in keeping with our experiences with formula. Usually, it tastes kind of like some other vegetable matter, but different. But, whether those ways are similar to how humans experience Ryse and vegetables on Earth, we really don't know.

What we do know for sure is color. That's something that can be measured quite precisely via the wavelengths of light.

Of course, we may perceive that color differently than you, but thanks to technological measuring devices and mathematics, we can use the same names for the same wavelengths of light. So, when I say that something is green on the Sunspot, you will be able to trust that if you somehow visited your neurology will interpret that thing as what you know of as green, adjusting for the difference in our ambient lighting, of course.

And, yes, some formulas we use are nearly as green as Ryze Matcha, and they are gorgeous.

But most formula ends up in a wide spectrum of color between what you call khaki and a deep vibrant purple, thanks to the dominant colors of most fungi and algae found on the Sunspot.

Our sun produces more ultraviolet light than yours does and there is less shielding between it and the surface of the Garden, so most of our plant life has developed its own shielding, which comes in varieties of purple. Mostly, it's the algae that carries the purple coloring. Most of our fungus isn't green, either, but even when it is, the purples of the algae shift the colors to brown when mixed with it.

But green mosses, ferns, and algae are found in the darkest, deepest parts of our forests, where the sun never reaches the ground directly, and we find that color to be captivating, so our ancestors bred a small variety of green food algae strains specifically for culinary variety.

And the flavor of that stuff is definitely what we could call green.

[your-tutor-abacus]

The Color of the Sunspot's Milk

We don't drink milk on the Sunspot.

It's not really a thing for us.

We did not evolve from mammals, so we do not produce milk ourselves, typically. Actually, our life can't really be divided up into the same categories as Terran life, anyway, and the Evolutionary Engines that are used to create people now produce such a diversity of biological development that we can't use sweeping statements like that meaningfully. But, we strongly suspect based on evidence at hand that the Ktletaccete did not originally have anything like mammary glands.

And, on the Sunspot specifically, we do not consume anything produced by animals. It just never even occurred to the Founding Crew to set up the ship and our culture that way. The ecological balance of the Garden requires that we let the fauna live as naturally as possible without interference from people. So, we do not milk animals.

But it turns out that we drink something that is kinda of vaguely like milk. It often serves a similar culinary utility, particularly in baking.

We know this because we have been talking to our Earth custodians of the Terran Tunnel Apparatus, and they have tried a product they call Ryze that is an approximation of what we use on the Sunspot, and we've been trading notes.

So, in the search for accommodation, the ancestors of the Sunspot Ktletaccete developed a mixture of pureed fungus and algae that could provide a very young child or a disabled or elderly person with nutrients that might not otherwise be readily available to them. And we have been calling this something that our translators have decided to call "formula". We understand that this echoes the term many of you use for a fortified milk that you feed your infants, and that's acceptable.

But our formula comes in many varieties, customized for each person's needs and even each use they might have for it.

Fungal and algae farming has always been abundant and easy for us, so it is the least expensive food to create. It may not have been central to the diet of ancient Ktletaccete, but it has become pivotal to survival in space aboard our Exodus Ships. And now we use it in nearly everything.

We also eat a variety of nuts, fruits, grains, tubers, leaves, stalks, and other vegetable matter (or their Sunspot equivalents to what these words mean to you). And some of those things provide proteins and lipids that compliment what is provided by our various formulas, so depending on how we combine it we can create foods that sometimes resemble your breads, quiches, meat loafs, stews, etc.

But, also, Artisan crafted beverages is a huge thing here, which I understand some of your cultures might relate to. And our formula is central to that.

So, what are the main differences between our formula and milk? And what are the differences between our formula and something like Ryze?

Well, obvious, our formula is made entirely differently from milk, and does not share it's color. It's not white or even white-ish, typically.

Though some varieties of it can come close to white so that Artisans can add vibrant colors to it more easily without it turning brown, but the processing tends to remove a lot of nutrients from it, so it's not terribly popular outside of that visual utility.

It's also usually somewhat low on lipids, though those are definitely added for many baking purposes.

It's more of a suspension than an emulsion most of the time, as a result. But again, that varies on it's purpose.

And because of that, and the fact that it's made from fungus and algae, makes it very similar to things like Ryze, which is apparently currently available for something you call "a lot of money" by purchasing it over your Network (or Internet, as you say).

There are other drinks like Ryze, but it so happens that the girlfriend of our counterparts purchased Ryse specifically, so that is the one that they are trying. In particular, they are trying Ryze Matcha, as opposed to Ryse Coffee, since we don't have anything remotely like a coffee bean on the Sunspot, but we do have a green stimulant kind of vaguely like Matcha that can be added to our formula.

We can't really truly compare the sensations of drinking our various forumlas to drinking Ryze, because there is an enormous physical gulf between the Earth and the Sunspot, and we cannot transport either liquid nor taste buds and nervous systems across that distance. And translating words, even with in the same language, between two individuals' personal experiences is inherently inaccurate to begin with.

But we can make some conjectures.

As far as flavor is concerned, we can infer some things. Humans are omnivors with a variety of sensitivities to flavors, and apparently our counterparts are something called a supertaster. They are more highly sensitive to flavor than their typical peers.

They report that Ryze Matcha tastes "green". Not just that it is green in color and therefore the flavor it has can be described as green, but that it reminds them of other green things that they have eaten. There is a bit of a spinach flavor, they report, but its very faint. There is also a faint green tea flavor. We don't know what either of these things really mean, but we know that spinach is a leafy vegetable and that green tea is also made from leaves. But then, they also say that these flavors are not like either of these things, either. They're similar but different.

More specifically, they report that Ryze Matcha does not taste like most mushrooms they've eaten. In fact, it bears a closer resemblance to the flavors they get when they drink from an old jug of water that maybe has some green stuff growing on the inside of it.

"Why would you do that?" I asked them.

And they replied with, "Carelessness."

Anyway, this seems relatively in keeping with our experiences with formula. Usually, it tastes kind of like some other vegetable matter, but different. But, whether those ways are similar to how humans experience Ryse and vegetables on Earth, we really don't know.

What we do know for sure is color. That's something that can be measured quite precisely via the wavelengths of light.

Of course, we may perceive that color differently than you, but thanks to technological measuring devices and mathematics, we can use the same names for the same wavelengths of light. So, when I say that something is green on the Sunspot, you will be able to trust that if you somehow visited your neurology will interpret that thing as what you know of as green, adjusting for the difference in our ambient lighting, of course.

And, yes, some formulas we use are nearly as green as Ryze Matcha, and they are gorgeous.

But most formula ends up in a wide spectrum of color between what you call khaki and a deep vibrant purple, thanks to the dominant colors of most fungi and algae found on the Sunspot.

Our sun produces more ultraviolet light than yours does and there is less shielding between it and the surface of the Garden, so most of our plant life has developed its own shielding, which comes in varieties of purple. Mostly, it's the algae that carries the purple coloring. Most of our fungus isn't green, either, but even when it is, the purples of the algae shift the colors to brown when mixed with it.

But green mosses, ferns, and algae are found in the darkest, deepest parts of our forests, where the sun never reaches the ground directly, and we find that color to be captivating, so our ancestors bred a small variety of green food algae strains specifically for culinary variety.

And the flavor of that stuff is definitely what we could call green.

[your-tutor-abacus]

A Strange kind of Flight

I'm lying on my back on Kwera beach, looking straight up at Katofar Mountain, having read up to the latest chapters of Blood in the Duff, by Candril, Student of Vine. It's very early morning, still dark, no sunbirth yet, but the moon hasn't died. It's nearby and casting light on Katofar's glaciers.

It's gorgeous. Ghostly. Haunting. And I'm thinking about the sparse clouds I'm already seeing emerge from the Aft Endcap. It's been a clear night, otherwise.

Ni'a walks up to me from out of my peripheral vision where they hadn't been before, looks down at my face, and says, "Let's go flying!"

"Why flying?" I ask, wondering briefly how they found me. It's obvious, though. They're Ni'a. They can sense where anyone is if they know who they're looking for. "You go flying every birthday, why now?"

"This is different," they say with a smirk on their face.

"New flight suit?"

"Better. And it's your fault."

What could Ni'a think is better than a new flight suit? I ask myself. I've been flying with them countless times by now. They're always trying, and succeeding, at flying higher and further than they've ever flown before. And they do have an unusual advantage, there, being the children of Phage. All three of them are fixated on enjoying flight for all that it's worth, sharing the experience in that singular body of theirs.

The answer to my question is simple, and presented to me demonstrably, after we've made our way to Agaricales in time for the first flight. Apparently, that's where we have to be.

The only thing that Ni'a likes as much as flying is people.

And now there is another way to take people with you when you go flying.

It used to be that you'd all go to the Playground, pick your favorite methods of flight (flight suit, your own wings if you have them, or a nanite exobody) and you all spend a few hours swooping and whirling around each other, and a lot of people find that to be quite a lot of fun. But it's not very relaxed.

Now you can get your friends and family together and do my favorite thing while you're flying.

Eat.

Because someone went an invented a flying building!

[photo of a flying machine above Agaricales forest on the Sunspot, with Katofar Mountain and Tenmouth Sound visible spinward on the upward curved wall of the Garden]

I'm not going to be giving you all that many photos in this blog for a while, if ever. I'm really bad at getting good images of anything. Fortunately, I have Ni'a with me, and they've got us covered today.

I've heard stories that the Founding Crew had to do battle with aircraft during the series of desperate coups on the Terra Supreme that lead up to the creation of the Sunspot. But, Eh says those were unmanned and used for horrific things.

The Sunspot hasn't had flying vehicles until now.

With personal flight as rewarding as it is, and transportation via tram as fast as anything, there really hasn't been much call for it. And the assumption has been that anything larger than a person flinging themself through the air might be too disruptive to the wildlife.

But, I guess, thanks to the tours I've made popular, there's call for multiperson craft to be sent aloft, and the Council approved measured use of them.

And now, if you look up in the sky, you might see this!

[Photo of a flying machine taken from the ground, with the Aft Endcap and a couple of the Sunspot's spokes visible behind it.]

This thing was obviously built to look like a Nufrruhaung, everyone's favorite migratory bottom feeder, and non-vocal cousin of the Cuttlecrabs. It doesn't have the feeding tentacles, though.

And in place of a big, flat, four jawed beak, there is an array of windows, two of which on the lower deck open as portals to let people in.

Of course, I could just constitute a body from the nanite bin aboard the aircraft, but I'm following Ni'a and it's polite to save those nanites for people who might be joining the party mid-flight.

And, yes, it's going to be a party.

Ni'a hasn't been telling me any of this while we've been traveling here. They've been coy and simply asking, "when are you going to start writing about this?" whenever I bring up the subject of our destination and activity.

I'm skipping a lot of stuff, however, because I think this is going to be a long one. And, also, Ni'a's staging pictures.

But, for those who can't see the images, the thing is painted in the ancient colors you can find in the lowermost deck of the Sunspot, purple, pink, and green, with accents of gold and bluish grey. It even has brass trim and fittings.

Ni'a has been ushering me ahead of them, and I briefly look back at them. They've named themselves Purple, Green, and Pink, and I'm wondering if there's some coincidence in that. I know they can't read minds, but they grins as if they can read mine.

If it's not a coincidence, it's hard to say who's choice it was, or whether it was even conscious.

I look back as I step through the portal of the craft, to see that it is already full of people.

There are three decks, each one five meters tall. This accommodates nearly anyone who wants to ride it. And a pair of four meter wide lifts near the center of the decks provide a means for people to go up and down as they please, so long as they're willing to wait a bit sometimes.

The mid deck is the flight deck. All the manual controls for the craft are there, but everyone is ignoring them. The vehicle is being flown by a Tutor who momentarily is the aircraft, inhabiting its structure like a nanite exobody. But, just in case it has a panic attack or some other kind of crisis, there is the means for someone to rush to its aid.

The top and bottom decks are observation decks, surrounded by windows, so that when we're aloft we can see as much of the interior of the Sunspot as possible.

It's not the same as riding the wind using your own wings, or magnetically locked nanites, and being able to look around completely unobstructed, feeling the full impact of the weather on your skin.

But, maybe that's part of the appeal of this. You trade the sensory impact of the open sky for the sensory impact of a crowd.

Well, I like crowds. But, though I know they like people, I'm surprised that Ni'a is excited about this many of them in one place.

And there are people of every type here: Children, Monsters, Crew (both young and Founding), and even Tutors who aren't attached to any Student at the moment. I even catch glimpses of cuttlecrab buggies carting their little sub-collectives here and there through the throng of guests.

Near the aft of this lower deck, there's beverage artisan who informs me of the sweet and savory pastries being crafted on the flight deck. And, apparently, on the top observation deck, someone is roasting goldenfruit and stuffed mushroom caps.

I may have found my new home.

When I get to the upper deck, I learn that even the ceiling is glass! So, if I wanted to take up extra room, I could lie on the floor and resume my contemplation of the sky from earlier today.

I shan't. I don't want to trip anyone.

As I grab one of the roasted goldenfruit, Ni'a nudges me, a level of familiarity that we've developed in the decades since I wrote my novel. They treat me almost like one of their parents, and almost like one of their siblings, and I've grown to like it.

I look at what they're indicating.

Just outside the window, the right forward wing of the craft is flat against the hull, blocking my view of the park it's landed in, Memorial Park, which just happens to be big enough to accommodate three of these craft landing at a time. I do think the clearing around the edges of the city might be better, though.

And I watch as the wing starts moving. It swings outward, and begins to twist flat in the same fluid movement. And I can see that it is held in place and manipulated not by some armature, but by the same magnetic lock my nanites have used when I want to hold my body above the ground or floor.

I can see that the wings have gigantic panels of fractal patterned grill, which I assume is part of the propulsion system, but I'm guessing that that nanite driven magnetic lock is also used to guide the craft when it's near the ground.

Oh! And to make clearance for the wings to extend, the craft has been smoothly lifting off the ground!

We're already flying.

I didn't feel it. My proprioception and sense of balance are fairly fine tuned. I have them adjusted so that I have precise control over my own body and where it is. But this acceleration was subtle and smooth enough that I didn't realize what was happening until I could now see we are already ten or so meters above the ground.

I have to say.

I don't normally combine my people watching with my sky watching. I usually only do one or the other, but food might be involved. And I know this fixation with food at parties is a relatively new thing, made popular by Tutors like me who've spent millennia not eating it, and by Crew who've forgotten what it tastes like and maybe have started listening to us.

And I think maybe this whole thing might actually be a bit too much for me? I'm genuinely surprised that Ni'a isn't near meltdown, but that grin is still plastered to their face. They are positively beaming.

And then, I find we're at a hundred meters and the craft starts to slip forward with the anti-spin-winds, and I can feel that acceleration.

At first the deck pulls me forward by my feet. It feels like it's tilting backward, but that's not what's happening. We're just jerking forward at notable speeds. And then it presses me upward, firmly keeping me where I'm standing, as if the pilot is trying to catch us all and keep us from falling over Aftward. Well, Aft of the craft, not the Sunspot.

And then, after a few minutes of that, it lets up and we're all lighter than we were before.

Our flight mimics the migratory patterns of the Nufrruhaung, And we're moving with the winds, but we haven't completely canceled the spin of the habitat cylinder. Centrifugal force still keeps the craft in actual flight, rather than freefall, and it likewise keeps its inhabitants, us, firmly on the floor of the decks. Just considerably less so than before.

Everyone laughs at the sensation and we all start jumping up and down in a very silly manner.

I don't know that anyone is paying attention to the world around us.

This is too novel.

[Photo of the aircraft from below and behind, with Frra Lake visible in the sky, and the recently birthed sun as it has exited the Forward Endcap is washed out. The spokes of the habitat cylinder of the Sunspot cast ghostly shadows through the light of the sun. Clouds are seen covering most of the Garden, mountain tops peeking through in some places.]

This was, apparently, Founding Crew member Setefere's idea and design. Keh is also, I'm told, working on shuttle designs for exploring the space around us when we finally make proximal contact with the Dancer. And keh is basing that design on what keh is learning here with this aircraft, which maybe has more to do with crew accommodations than aerodynamics. Since there's no atmosphere outside.

We finally might get to use our Shipyards for something besides personal meditation!

In any case, I may take more of these flights. I hope you'll join me.

[your-tutor-abacus]

Roasted Sweet Sap Tubers

Speaking of food.

If you take some time to make friends with Monsters, you may learn of some delicacies that most people can't or don't make. And, if you're lucky, they'll share them with you.

This is mostly because the Monsters keep to themselves, a situation that I hope will finally start to change with rest of the political climate aboard the Sunspot. But I'm not holding my simulated breath (did I use that idiom right?), because the societal pressures that keep them secluded probably aren't going to change enough for them.

They're always going to be a vulnerable population, and hiding is part of how they survive.

But, also, that Special Dispensation they have, and their low numbers, gives them access to resources other people just don't have.

I'm not going to tell you exactly where this is. You're going to have to make the social connections I made, and earn their trust, to follow, but it's well worth it. And I encourage you to do so. And you're going to have to start by being hospitable and friendly to any Monster you meet.

So.

There is a species of tree on the Sunspot that produces a very sweet tasting sap. And it produces enough of it that some can be harvested without seriously endangering the tree.

Just which tree, and how you go about harvesting the sap will also remain Monster secrets for now. It is up to them to divulge this, even to Crew, sorry. I've sworn to secrecy.

But, up on the Ring Mountains somewhere, you can find a Monster living in the hollowed out trunk of a dead tree who has perfected this process. And they've done something wonderful with it.

And this part I've been allowed to describe, perhaps to entice people to start being more friendly to their fellow Monsters.

They take a bitter tuber and grate it up into a rough mash. Then they add some gluten and algae proteins to help hold it together when it cooks. Finally, they mix in a tiny bit of mulling spice, and shape it into centimeter and a half thick patties to be put on a baking sheet. And then they brush that with the sweet sap before roasting it at a moderate to high temperature until they are nice and golden brown (as people do with their food).

They are so good!

The flavors balance themselves out very well, with the mulling spices remaining a faint hint between the bitterness of the tuber and the sweetness of the sap, which caramelizes in the oven.

The inside is moist and soft, with the grated tuber remaining just consistent enough that you can feel the pieces of it. But it holds together and you can mash it with your tongue quite nicely. And the outside is crispy, like hard candy. You do probably want teeth for this one, if for the crust. But if the crust is thin enough it might not be a problem.

This Monster recommends eating them with Yekrring's tea while breathing in the aroma of the rotten duff of an autumn boreal forest, such as you'll find above a certain altitude forward of the Ring Mountains.

I can speak with experience that it's particularly lovely while observing a sunbirth.

And that's all I'm going to tell you about it.

You should be friendly to Monsters because they are your fellow people, even if they often don't trust the rest of us. They deserve our respect for simply sharing our world with us. But if this incentivizes some of you to shape up, if for the possibility of experiencing this amazing food, so much the better.

(I'm sure there are some sleuths out there that can and will try to figure all this out without the necessity to be civil to strangers. I hope you don't. And, remember, consult the Council of the Crew before you go trying to harvest your own tree sap.)

[your-tutor-abacus]

The Shipyard Control Rooms

Which I will describe in a moment. But first, that annoying thing that food blogs do, where they write about something else at length first. You know, to set the scene. (I've read some human blogs now. Am I doing this right?)

This is long. To be enjoyed at leisure.

I don't have to eat, but I like to. And food that I do eat is not wasted in any way.

I get enjoyment out of it, and the nutrients and energy are recycled more perfectly than if the food were composted.

So, if you too have a nanite exobody, do not be ashamed to eat food. You should try it. And I mean real food. Not Network approximations of food. You should visit the Garden and eat something made by one of the Artisans amongst the Children of the Sunspot.

With the sensory array afforded to us by the nanites and their ingenious programming, you will experience flavors and textures in a way that cannot be approximated by anything else, not even biological mechanisms.

I make it a point to eat at least one meal every day, usually the first thing in the morning.

Usually, I like to eat the food right there in front of the Artisan, so that I can show them my appreciation for it, and talk to them about it. But sometimes I'm not feeling like being sociable, and when that happens I go for an old favorite and take it someplace else to eat. Someplace interesting.

That way the Artisan already knows my opinion of their food and is simply happy to give me more of it, and I get to appreciate a full sensory experience while visiting a place I may not have seen before.

Today, I went someplace I've already been. The very same shipyard where I took Ni'a and Aphlebia on one of their first tours of the Sunspot. And I took with me some... In English, I'm going to use the words "apples" and "cheese", but it's not that. Close enough, though. The "apples" are a fruit that structurally resembles Earth apples and can be eaten in a similar way, but might taste really different. And the "cheese" is made from processed mushrooms and algae mixed with spices. It has a consistency similar to some cheeses you might eat on Earth, but it probably tastes very different. I personally love how the spices go with the fruit, but I'm told it's an acquired taste. A very acquired taste that I highly encourage you to acquire if you can. It's bold and it's complicated.

When I arrived at the place, I commanded the shipyard doors to open, as we had done before, because watching actual stars revolve around the ship with your own optical receptors or eyes is an emotional experience that defies logic. And I couldn't pass that up, even if it was for the tenth or twelfth time.

But I described that in my book about Ni'a and their experiences, and I wanted to paint for you the meaning and beauty of something I left unexplained in that story.

The control room of the shipyard itself.

This is architecture that, in most Exodus Ships, is rarely ever seen by anybody. Not even when the shipyard is being used to create a new ship. But it is still built with an old, old, forgotten tradition that not only keeps biologically bound people in mind but imagines that one day the shipyard and its control room might be used to host visitors.

It has consoles and chairs, and it is decorated.

Normally, this shipyard is operated via Network channels, when it is needed. And it has been locked away from prying eyes, even from access by Monsters, for over 131 millennia. There should be no need for consoles, chairs, and decorations.

And yet, here they are.

It's interesting, too, because the color choices for the surfaces and decor must have been deliberate, as well.

This morning, I sat with my back to open space (well, with a glass portal between me and the vacuum), with my be-tailed ass on the floor, eating my food. So that I could focus on this room from a view approximating what someone might see if they were docking their own space vessel in the shipyard itself. If they were lucky or astute enough to focus on the relatively tiny portal of the control room.

This is a small shipyard, six by three kilometers long and wide, and half a kilometer deep. The control room, in contrast, is measured in meters, twenty by fifteen by five. Eh can stand up straight in it, but it is minuscule in comparison to the shipyard it belongs to.

To my left, as I sit here, is the hatch to an airlock that sits between this control room and it's counterpart. A redundant system.

Someone visiting us, which as far as I know is something that has never happened on any Exodus Ship yet, would enter through that airlock and then make their way into one of these two control rooms. Which ever one was opened to them.

In the back of the control room is the hatch to the lift.

There are two consoles and two chairs. Our imaginary guest would walk in front of the consoles and down the short aisle between them in order to get to the lift. Especially if the consoles and their chairs were occupied by people. Because they are designed for people as big as Eh.

Eh can vary in size however ihn wants, but usually tends to stand at about four meters tall these days, and ihns tail takes up just as much room behind ihn, with ihns huge, wavy spinal fin. And the furniture of the control room was obviously designed for ihn.

Was this furniture made specifically in honor of Eh? If this architecture was designed for anyone aboard the Sunspot, it seems likely. The Children rarely ever grow that big, and their physiology is all so varied and different that, if they were expected to use the control room, it would make more sense to use configurable chairs and consoles.

At this point, it would be easy enough to replace them with nanite bins that any person could use to create the furniture they need.

But that's not how it was made. And because we didn't start using nanite exobodies until very recently, it probably wasn't imagined that Eh or any Founding Crew Member would actually sit here.

So, I could ask about that. And when I get an answer, I'll report back. But for now, I'm entertained by the mystery and I give it to you the same way that I find it.

With more questions.

If I made my own body larger, I'd find those seats fairly comfortable. They are designed for a person who has a tail and does not stand fully upright like a few people do. The tall end, with a chin rest, is nearest the console, though they do swivel. Swiveling is less for providing a convenient exit to the chair, and more to help you reach all the controls of the console with either hand.

This seems to fit the body type described by the elemental root words of Fenekere, our most ancient language.

Are the control rooms of other Exodus ships built like this? Were they built like this even on the Terra Supreme, where every person looked almost exactly alike, stood fully upright, had no tails, and were only two meters tall at most?

Who designed this control room, and how much input did they have? What did they use for a model? Where did they get their directions? How much of the rest of it was customized specifically for the Sunspot to set it apart from the Terra Supreme?

I know that the symbol of the Inmara, Eh's own resistance cell aboard the Terra Supreme, is unique to the Sunspot. Fenmere, Gesedege, and Eh worked together to design it. You can see it on the hanging scale in the image on my blog's banner. The comet and dragon, or Hunter's Bow and Guardian, appear above the word "Inmara", meaning the Great Alliance, etched clean through a sculpture of a Scale of the Great One from the old myths.

And, let me tell you, I still don't know the origins of those myths or just how old they are, just that the Founding Crew hold them dear for some reason.

I'm pretty sure that the scales that are hanging to either side of the lift hatch, right behind each chair, each adorned with the symbol of the Inmara, are meant to clearly establish the character of the Sunspot.

They could have just as easily held the name of the ship on them, but they don't. "Welcome to `etekeyerrinwuf," is, however, written on a plaque above the lift hatch.

There is also, on the wall opposite the airlock, a Founding plate. It lists the name of the ship, the name of the resistance cell that was in charge of creating the ship, the names of the Senior Founding Crew members, and the coordinates and relative direction of the ship's creation. The is also a bas relief depiction of the Sunspot on that plaque, above the words. The plaque is a septagon, like a typical Scale of the Great One, but it is quite a bit wider than usual in order to accommodate the information. And it is made with the same material as the outer hull, which stands out against the painted walls. It's hard to miss it.

Are there plaques like that in the Terra Supreme? Are they the same shape? What language are they written in? What about the other Exodus Ships?

Then there are the colors of the room, which I mentioned. These, I'm also pretty sure are unique to the Sunspot, though I don't know.

The floor is a navy blue that has been faded to gray. A deep blueish gray. (Our translators are helping us with this description, and you'll have to excuse me if some of my phrases don't make sense to you. I'm trusting them, but I don't know what "navy blue faded to gray" really means.)

The trim around the edges of the portals, hatches, floor and ceiling is a gold color. Not metallic, but the kind of color you'd expect from an unfertilized dandelion during a sunset, I'm told. Somewhere between yellow and orange.

The walls are a gradient from a muted violet near the floor to a soft pink near the ceiling, making the gold the strongest color in the room.

The support structures of the consoles and chairs are also that gradient of muted violet to soft pink, but with aglae green trim that is almost as bright as the gold.

The hatch doors are that same green.

The Scales of the Great One are solid bronze, maintained and kept shiny by nanites. There are metal rims and bits in the chairs and consoles that also the same bronze. Anything metal in the room, besides the Founding plaque, is that bronze.

All of the hallways and rooms of the same deck are painted in these colors, as is the shipyard itself.

I have yet to find another part of the Sunspot that is colored and structured like this. In fact, this room is rectangular, a simple block, like the shipyard itself, unlike most other rooms aboard the ship.

There is definitely meaning here.

It is this astounding mix of unfathomably ancient and relatively new but still unfathomably ancient that frankly captivates me more than a glimpse of a pulsar in a nebula that resembles where the Sunspot was built.

If you do come down here for the stars, do not forget to turn around and stare at the control room for a while, too.

Who was it made for? You? Me? Or as some sort of big "fuck you" to Father `e of the Terra Supreme, who will never, ever get to see it?

The answer to all of those questions is probably "yes".

[your-tutor-abacus]

a "Travel Blog" for the Sunspot

I spent quite some time considering just what my URL should be. And what I chose is ironic. Let me explain.

Originally, I thought I really should write to our collective wordpress blog under my name. But the truth is, as much as it would be good for this series of articles to go there first and foremost, I hate the wordpress interface for just writing off the cuff. I used it for the work of uploading my novel for so long, it saps me of all lucidity when I look at it. And I need something more personal, that feels more like it belongs to me.

Hence this tumblr blog.

Of course, then, I found that someone already had abacus dot tumblr dot com. It's a ancient word in a few Earth languages, so that's no surprise.

But while I could go by my original untranslated name, Yarrayoa'uf, I don't want to. Even though it was my choice, I made that choice at just a few years old, and I've lived with it far too long. And now that I've discovered the English pronunciation of Abacus, I find I quite like it. So, Abacus is literally my name now.

So, then there's the question of how to differentiate myself.

I could have chosen abacus-the-dragon for my url, and it still tempts me. I am a dragon, after all. Though there are at least three words in Inmararräo that get translated to dragon in English, all three do apply to me, so the English word "dragon" would be a very fitting descriptor for me.

But, honestly, it doesn't tell you what this blog is for, and I wanted something that did that.

And here's the thing, if you've read any of the Sunspot Chronicles (or if you live aboard the ship) you know just how important and culturally charged the word "Tutor" is. That word holds so much meaning that tells you exactly what I aim to be for you, if only temporarily through this blog. Think of it as "tutor" with a lowercase "t".

Tutors guide their Students through every aspect of their first life, from birth to ascension, with the hopes of ushering them into Crewhood with as broad and deep a knowledge of the Sunspot's culture and workings as possible.

And when Ni'a was born, and my position of being their Tutor was usurped by Phage, I was assigned by the Crew Council to write a book about them. And during that task, I discovered something horrific. The Crew are Ignorant to what the Children are doing! And that's when I started my tours. Which are ultimately what have led me to start writing this blog.

You may have heard some of my speeches or read some of my documents calling for the abolition of Tutorhood. This is what makes my blog url ironic. I still stand by every word of those. But I mean that Tutorhood as an assigned position should be abolished. Tutoring as an Art, however, is still needed. It should be voluntary.

I, personally, have chosen to re-embrace that Art. But in a new way, to show the people of `etekeyerrinwuf, the Sunspot, what it can be and mean.

So, here we are.

"But, Abacus," you may ask, "what is this about English? How is it that the Sunspot has contacted Earth, and why English?"

The simple answer is that there turns out to be a Tunnel Apparatus there, located in the PDX area of Oregon, operated by some English speaking individuals who help us maintain our Network presence on Earth. I am very interested in the other languages spoken on Earth, but I have not yet had time to study them as much as I'd like.

How that end of the Tunnel got there and just exactly where it is are protected secrets (and potential spoilers for the Sunspot Chronicles), however, so I'm not going to tell you that part. It's a precious connection, and we can't risk it.

We are, however, working on a method by which Earthlings might visit the Sunspot. So, if you happen to be one of my readers who lives on Earth, please stay tuned. We look forward to visiting you in person some day! And this blog may yet be more than just a work of fiction for you.

In the mean time, you may wish to read more about the Sunspot, and fortunately our history is being recorded here: