Permian- Emissary of the Extinct by Devyn Regueira

Author:Devyn Regueira [Regueira, Devyn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-06-30T04:00:00+00:00

Point-74709 stood at the western boundary of the grave that would become his body, patient and naked, disheveled, regal as a director could aspire to be. He had aspired to it, once. And so it had become his outward nature, and now, inwardly, he aspired only to do justice to it.

It was there his harem found him. First came the former-half carrier phaselets; fed from the scraps of vegetation left behind by their elders who preceded them at pasture, and still they trundled without complaint save the grumbles of their stomachs. They placed the boughs of wood requested without explanation in the shadow of their director, destined to hold his position some centuries later and so respectful of it.

Then came the latter-half carrier phaselets. Each was well rested and better fed in preparation for her reproductive duty - P-710 among them despite her omission from fertilization as forthcoming director. As one unified harem they looked upon the current occupant of the directorate, fledgling a title as it was.

There he stood on his perch of earth beside the grave chasm. There he stood, he and his dwindling stature testing the force of the breeze, decayed and wobbling at the very precipice of a foregone conclusion. Still he looked strong. P-709 had been a special director, and his harem would remember him fondly, and future harems would recall him with awesome reverence.

More impressive than the director’s endeavors against nature for the right to a parting address, perhaps, were the products of his endeavors during the hours he’d had to himself.

“I hope you've all had your fill. As I said before, the rains will be light this season, and our efforts, necessarily, will be heavy.”

P-709 gestured at the ground beyond his mound with the spear ensnared between his clawed fingers, the tip dulled and dirty and frilled with severed roots after hours spent carving shallow gouges into the earth. It was not so dull that the harem could not identify where the director intended their attentions to go.

“I ask that you observe with your eyes. Refrain, if you may, from nuanced observation at this time and place.”

P-709’s harem obliged him, huddling closely together, moving as a pack to the boundaries of the large congruent circles he’d carved into the most pliable dirt. With only the accounts of biologically cannibalized eyes to depend upon, many carrier phaselets did not appreciate the true nature of the circles until the most keen among them made it known. P-710, feeling very much the pride of an insider, made such a contribution to the benefit of the latter-half phaselet beside her.

“The ring on the right is not formed by a solid boundary. If you were to rest upon the ground and draw your eye near to it, you would see that it is a genetic sequence.”

“And on the left?”

P-710’s eyes were no more capable than the carrier-phaselet who had posed the question - or any other member of her species, for that matter. Neither had P-709 given her any meaningful foundation during their conversation from which to draw a conclusion.

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