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For your Friday reading pleasure...

Raerquel gestured with a delicate upper tendril. "Once all this was part of the sea of life, before the land changed. The mountains pushed upwards and Ocean-of-Home shrank. Much was lost as we adapted to dry living. We built new cities here, on the banks of the old seas, cities like the one we are now leaving, cities of working, dreaming, waiting..."

"To return to the water?" Kithri asked.

"Even now, we must. For eggs to hatch and water-breathing trochophore younglings to grow. The Flesh-Before-Naming. For the dying oldsters, for the sick in spirit. We adults are able to utilize gaseous oxygen, and our integument is tolerant to the dryness of land with the aid of the healing gel. Terrestrial adaptation, although unpleasant, is possible."

"Just because a thing is possible, doesn't mean it's good," said Lennart. Again, some bleak undertone in his voice stung Kithri.

"Wise you are, my human friend. These cities here," Raerquel gestured from the way they had come, "cities of light, and cities of darkness in the mountains, they are not enough for us. Who can say if our present desolation is beginning then, with the loss of our water home, and not with our estranged offspring planets?"


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Deborah J. Ross

November 2020

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