Rotten Curiosity
Author: Nomistrav
Original post: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1iK__-kDn1_K5Z2L4qzTHJgRowWP8RwdHQMTHJMX1fps/edit
Author’s Note: I spent the better part of September and October working out of state. When I returned, I realized that I only had this weekend to write a finished piece. As the final hour of the contest approaches, I realize there is no way I can conclude this story the way I intended. Thus, for the sake of a complete story, the rest will be told in the form of my personal notes so that it may at least be read and perhaps finished later. My sincerest apologies.
Entry for the YC120 Pod and Planet Fiction Contest in the Eight Thousand Suns in New Eden category.
There had to have been a mistake. Ariot Conardier’s eyes repeatedly traversed each line of the report displayed on the datapad in his hand in search of even a typo. His hurried pace was signaled by the echo of his lonely footsteps ricocheting down the white and olive marble tiled corridor. The man’s breath came as sharp huffs through his small nostrils, inflamed by his rising impatience. The walk across the facility felt like an eternity. He scanned the report one final time and found it bereft of clerical error. It was legitimate. The man practically shoved his way past the sliding doors - opening too slow for his haste. “This is a prank,” He stated, with barely contained enthusiasm. Elysie swiveled around in her chair to face him. The Gallente woman lifted a hand and shoved a bunch of blonde hair out of her eyes and tucked it behind her ear. She tried desperately to hold a poker face but failed in every way. Wires pulled at the corner of her lips to express a gleeful smile as she rose to her feet, performing a giddy dance toward Ariot. “Really?” Ariot exclaimed, his eyes going wide. “Really! A culture hidden away for millenia! Right in our backyard!” The two embraced in a mix between a tackle and a hug with Ariot taking a step back to maintain his balance. “How did we even find them? Why didn’t we find them sooner?” He asked with a genuine look of confusion. “Pure chance. The original scans of the planet when it was being colonized were for resource-finding. Magnetometric scans overlooked the area because of high magnetic interference and underwhelming satellite visuals. It was considered a wasteland devoid of anything valuable, so no-one settled there.” Elysie paused to step over to a holographic display of the planet’s surface. She focused on a small region of badlands that looked utterly barren. She zoomed in on a comparatively tiny portion of the topography. Upon closer inspection they could see a jungle-oasis set in a bowl-shaped area of rock: a crater. At its center, nestled around a body of water, were primitive buildings. Ariot crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head. He narrowed his eyes in thought as he surveyed the image. “This is that area that had all the magnetite, right? That interfered with the original imaging?” He questioned. “Right. This is post-filtering, the image you’re seeing is from a capsuleer survey for resource harvesting.” “I thought there wasn’t anything valuable though?” “To us, no, but magnetite nanoparticles are useful for the creation of ferrofluids-” she began. “-and ferrofluids are useful in the medical industry. Medical industry is an infinite demand industry, hence the capsuleer’s interest.” He finished, familiar with his wife’s train of thought. “Right. Given the badlands spanning in all directions outside of the oasis the early theory is that there would have been attempts to expand outward, but obviously failed or we would have known about them earlier on. Basic necessity and a small population - they probably have little desire to venture too far from home to begin with,” She summarized. Elysie swapped the holographic projection of the planet’s surface out of the way. In its place, a digital readout of a contract indicating that they had secured the rights to the development of the area. Ariot’s eyes bulged in shock. Elysie was quick to reassure him. “I know. It’s a huge loan, but think of the grants we’ll get for this! The first collective of humans - discovered right here in New Eden - in centuries. I’ve already contacted the rest of the Anthropology department and the University has started gathering a team. We’ll need security, given that the area is infested with the cartels.” “Oh, we’ll definitely need security, for sure. When do we leave?”
Ariot squinted as the dust kicked up from beneath the transport’s auxiliary thrusters. He lifted his eyes to shield them and dropped to the ground with a thump of his heavy hiking boots. One of the security contractors gave him a hearty shove inward to keep him away from the blue hot flames of the ship’s thrusters. Adjacent to them was a second transport that held the remainder of the expeditionary team. When the two groups gained a suitable distance from their respective transports the vehicles lifted away and headed back to orbit. The soldiers contrasted Ariot and Elysie by leagues. Whereas the two professors were clad in casual wear and had enough bags to slow their movement, the soldiers carried light and fit for the journey. Aside from personal defense weapons that were barely longer than one’s forearm, the soldiers only wore harnesses for spare magazines. A grizzled man with a square jaw and gray hair approached Ariot, holding his rifle across his chest. “Commander Amaril,” He stated simply, introducing himself. “Ariot, and this is my wife Elysie. Pleasure to meet you,” Ariot said, holding out his hand in greeting. The commander simply touched his elbow padding against Ariot’s hand in exchange. His own hands never left his weapon. The silver-fox jutted his head forward and his men began to walk in a staggered, widespread formation, about ten meters apart. Ariot couldn’t help but notice the loud colors of their uniforms. “Why the cerulean color? We’re going to a jungle. That doesn’t seem like it’d blend very well.” “Corporate colors; we have to represent our employers.” The commander replied. “These people likely have no idea what a corporation even is.” Ariot replied, smugly. “No, but the cartels do.” Ariot could put the pieces together well enough in his head. The defense contractor the University partnered with had a notoriety with the Serpentis and Angel cartels. He assumed that perhaps the outlaws would recognize the colors and be discouraged. Nevertheless, he was reassured in the fact that they would not be hard to find in the dense vegetation they expected to find in the crater. In fact, they were not hard to find in the badlands, either. One of the members from the second transport stood out among the uniformed contractors. The man had brown hair, brown eyes, was of average height and build, and astonishingly lacked any qualifying features. Ariot could not even tell what his bloodline were in the mix of genetic soup that coursed through the man’s veins. It made him intensely curious. He stepped forward and offered a hand in greeting. “Ariot, and you are?” He began. “Viloss. Biologist - contracted in from the Republic,” The average-looking man said pointedly as he shook Ariot’s hand. The two groups finished exchanging greetings. They exchanged brief complaints about not having been informed of each other’s assignment to the expedition prior - a victim of bureaucracy combined with haste. The University failed in that regard in every way. “Here,” Commander Amaril said, throwing Ariot and Elysie a plastic packaged auto-injector. “What’s this?” Elysie asked as she inspected the contents, looking for some sort of labeling. “Cocktail of immunizations and steroids. Standard issue stuff. Might be a good idea considering where we’re going.” Ariot and Elysie looked to each other with a couple’s understanding. The Gallente man offered a one-sided shrug before tearing open the package. He placed the cylindrical injector against his thigh and felt the rubber guard form to the flesh beneath his pants. A loud bang echoed across the badlands as the needle stabbed painfully into his flesh, buckling his leg. The soldiers laughed. “What the hell?” Ariot exclaimed. “Well, it’s meant to go through body armor, so,” The commander said with a wry grin. Ariot stared daggers at the man but quickly formed a smile of his own. He shook his head. Elysie seemed a bit more hesitant to use hers, but relented after a moment of internal debate. The team began to move wordlessly and confidently toward the small oasis where they would find the natives they were looking for. The eerie silence and total lack of life compounded several long miles of uneventful terrain. This was relieved only by the conversations between the expedition team members. The crater’s rim was guarded by sharp jagged rocks that jutted out from the earth in a menacing display. The soil, loose and devoid of nutrients, made finding a foothold difficult. Exacerbating the climb was the sheer angle of the rock face. The culmination of these features added hours to the journey, but eventually they reached the peak of the blade-like geography. In the crater was enormous. Elysie estimated that it was about forty-five kilometers from one range of jagged, magnetite-laden rock to the other. At the very edge of the rim across the basin the outline of the crater was only faintly visible through the haze of humid air lilting above the oasis. The area was much larger than they had calculated.
“What’s the likeliness of us encountering hostile wildlife?” Commander Amaril asked Ariot. “I honestly don’t know. Anthropologist, not the biologist,” Ariot said with a dry chuckle as his boots squelched through the mud. “I’m noticing these birds have been screeching at us since we first walked into the jungle. I’m wondering that’s all about.” The commander waved his rifle out in a fanning motion toward the jungle canopy. The birds the commander referred to seemed to be following the group, cawing at the outsiders. Viloss lifted his gaze and squinted slightly at them. Ariot assumed he may have been nearsighted. It was an interesting trait, especially given how easy it was to fix. “Reptilian and avian features. Looks like downy feathers lining the wings, but the wings themselves are membranous. Interesting!” Viloss exclaimed, quickly inputting his findings in a datapad. Traveling between the trees, the animals took flight by gliding short distances; their mass was too great for lengthy flight. Small, hooked fangs showed that they were predatory, but given their distance from the group Ariot could only assume they were not intent on attacking them. He looked up at them only in passing as he was more focused on the trail ahead. He gave a quick glance back to his wife with the expectation that she would be further behind but was startled as she passed right by him, a grin from ear to ear. “Getting flabby, huh?” She teased. “Listen -” “No, no. We can take a break if you want, old timer!” The Gallente sneered playfully at her. It was motivating at least. He powered through the mud and muck and almost lost a boot in the process. The soldiers seemed to have a better time getting through by comparison and he quickly found himself slowing down the group. There was an air of truth to Elysie’s teasing. He was getting old and his graying hair was not the only sign.
The birds continued to follow the group for kilometers. Whether due to simply getting too far from their own territory or recognizing some hidden threat at the center of the oasis, they stopped in unison at an unseen border. The group could see the primitive buildings as they reached a clearing on the cliffside overlooking the oasis. The soldiers had taken the opportunity to rest, laughing at old stories amongst one another. Ariot sat down on an outcropping of rock, panting lightly. Elysie, far more energetic, had already set to staring at the collective of humans through a visual scanner. Resting her elbows on her knees, she steadied the device enough to get a clear view on the colony. “This is actually incredible. They live in primitive shelters but they’re using materials from the dark ages to fish,” She said, excitedly. “Care to elaborate?” Ariot replied, biting into dehydrated foodstuffs. “One of them is using an old light stick as a fishing spear. It looks like he adorned it with an set of solar cells. Decoration, maybe?” Elysie adjusted the sights on the scanner, slowly turning her view by shifting her weight to one side. Through the digital lens of a device centuries ahead of her subjects she captured their pictures: frozen images of a people who had not experienced thousands of years of human advancement. She began to shake at the thought. “This is going to be worse than first contact with the Caldari,” She muttered. “Worse?” Ariot replied. “Well, I’m just thinking about the impact that the Federation had on the Caldari when we first met. We’re really not qualified for the possible consequences.” “Right, but they drifted apart philosophically because they hadn’t taken the time to fully understand one another. This is leagues different.” “That’s one interpretation,” Commander Amaril chimed in. “Anyway - I think we can handle that a lot better than some old school U-Nats from back in the day. We’re scholars, not politicians,” Ariot stated, begrudgingly. “Best laid plans of furriers and men,” The commander said. “Meaning?” The commander shrugged, rolling his rifle in his grip as if to stretch his arms. As Amaril turned, Ariot saw a glint of light against the man’s features. Strong cheekbones and a square jaw beneath the beard he had not previously seen. Amaril was at least part Civire. Ariot felt a knot in his throat and almost choked on his dried foodstuffs. Before he could speak the commander was rallying up his men with the intent to press on. Ariot almost felt as though it were to avoid further awkward conversation. Viloss awkwardly settled down in a crouch beside Ariot and stared out into the jungle. He seemed worried despite the total lack of commitment to emotion. “Something the matter?” “Birds weren’t defending territory,” Viloss said, shaking his head. “I’m sorry?” “Too far a distance to drive us out. Doubt that their grounds range that far,” Viloss explained, gesturing vaguely at the crater itself, “Area isn’t large enough to warrant that unless they’re an apex predator, but your tribe probably took that spot ages ago. Chances of them pursuing out of consideration for us being potential prey are slim.” “If they weren’t barking at u-” “Cawing.” “If they weren’t cawing at us to drive us out of their turf and they didn’t consider us food, why keep chasing us?” “Yeah,” Viloss finished, lifting to a stand and stepping away. Ariot’s brows furrowed together as he stared at the ground in thought. He was just at the razor’s edge of daydreaming when his wife called out to him to rejoin the team.
Elysie exchanged a brick of food rations with one of the natives for an odd metal trinket. She carefully observed it with a bright smile, intent on expressing her delight as means of subduing any fears. The tribals were entranced. They constantly poked and prodded at the research team with an overwhelming curiosity. Many seemed to be totally fixated on the bright colors of the soldiers’ clothing. There was something both unnerving and infinitely interesting about the look of these people, Ariot thought. Flat and youthful structures in the skull initially led him to believe that it were a genetic mutation that formed a dominant trait. He quickly found himself speaking with Viloss more and more. “Interesting eyes. What do you make of that?” Ariot asked. “White spots in the periphery of the iris encircled by dark rings. Few of them even have jaundice. That’s aggregation of connective tissue and copper deposition, mixed with liver problems.” Viloss explained confidently. “You think it has something to do with the diet?” “Maybe. The spots are similar to what you see in developed Trisomy-21, but that’s usually fixed with gene therapy - early pregnancy termination in some societies. I’m leaning toward that part being genetic. The copper deposition and jaundice - no, that’s something else entirely.” Ariot caught something in the corner of his eye. A soldier nearly gave the curious natives a demonstration of his weapon’s function with live-fire exercise on a tree. Ariot placed his hand on the soldier’s weapon and gently lowered it, shaking his head. The two had a mutual understanding that went beyond words. The soldier simply nodded. Commander Aramil exhaled a haze of gray smoke through his nostrils. One of the tribal individuals pulled the cigarette from his mouth and gave it a brief but flabbergasted inspection. The commander’s patience exceeded his gruff appearance.
The expeditionary crew sat around a plasma-fire eating dinner. The night sky shown a deep viridian color from the Verge Vendor nebula. It reminded Ariot just how far away he were from home. What did not remind him of home was the rations. Even cooked and seasoned, they lacked flavor. He briefly considered how people enjoyed the outdoors. Then he considered how he had a similar line of thinking every time he went out in the field. The popcorn thoughts were only cut off by his wife’s mid-sentence summary. “- if their unique appearance is actually an evolutionary trait similar to high-altitude adaptation in early humans, their stories don’t reflect that. While there may have been correlations with migratory progress from elsewhere, they claim they’ve always been here,” Elysie stated. “That doesn’t make sense. The Intaki have a higher muscle density as an adaptation to higher gravity on their home planet which allowed them to retain their often athletic look rather than becoming squat or stocky. If these people have have traits similar to high-altitude adaptation, it tells us that they had to have developed from a genome that didn’t originate here, at least.” Viloss replied. Commander Aramil stiffled a chuckle. “What?” Viloss asked. “I’m not a scientist, but you make the obvious sound like a revelation,” Aramil replied. “I’m not saying that they didn’t have similar upbringings to the Gallente or the Intaki or what have you. I’m saying that these traits don’t make sense for this area. Think about it - we’re technically below sea level, in a crater, surrounded by barren wasteland as far as the eye can see. Where would they have gotten those traits? Without space travel or stories of travel from outside the area they would have had to have evolved to combat high-altitude sickness from where-ever they came from.” “I wonder how reliable those stories are though,” Ariot stated. “What do you mean?” His wife asked. “If you look at their physical growth compared to their intellectual growth they’re disproportionate.” “They’re shocked by a flashlight. How intellectually disproportionate can you really call it when they just got past the quest for fire?” Commander Aramil retorted, narrowing his eyes in skepticism. “No, what I mean is that, for their age, they show some signs of developmental retardation that can’t be attributed to their culture or isolation. The little society they’ve crafted for themselves here is rich in artistic display and stories, and they get by with some simple agricultural practices, but they’re not learning. They aren’t improving on these practices.” A grim silence fell on the group that was only broken by the soldiers conversing while on watch.
As the expeditionary team continues to work with the tribe they begin to paint a bigger picture from their pictogram stories. The tribe centralized development around an old solar generator from the dark ages that provided lights, water filtration, etc. Two families grew distant from one another over their interpretation of how they came to be. Both interpretations, while largely spiritual, were fundamentally and logically flawed. In the end, the families fought and blood was shed. Their blood covered the solar cells of the generator and stopped the technology they’d been left with from working. Without its blessings, the tribe quickly began to degenerate. Yet, with the lack of technology, they began to prosper culturally. Focusing more on their artistic expressions they showed a rich history of unification since that event. The team discovers that their more recent history is correlative of Ariot’s theories in their regressed intellectual development. Viloss expresses a theory that it may have been due to inbreeding, given the lack of applicable candidates for genetic mixing. He redacts this theory on the basis that their traits don’t show those typical with inbreeding, but instead chromosomal mutation. The group continues to study these archaic peoples and find that they developed a tradition of sending people on 'Death Walks' in areas with high amounts of the birds the team saw early on. This developed as a means of determining whether or not they're mortally ill. The birds have a bioluminescent glow that correlates with auroras seen in the night. This is routinely their breeding season and the culture often has impromptu festivals when these auroras take place. They tend otherwise only glow when they sense someone with a disease, becoming highly distressed and cawing with flashes of their bioluminescent organs. (Author’s note: The early segment was to be re-written to include this). Viloss assumes that the birds reacted to the immunizations they took early on. Yet, something is very, very wrong: members of the tribe start becoming sick. As they begin to see the sickness spread hastily between the tribal members, the team becomes anxious. As they look over a list of the symptoms the tribe members present Viloss exudes that it is similar to a disease that they vaccinate themselves for. Commander Aramil is skeptical and expresses that the vaccinations shouldn’t have had any affect as they are dead forms of the viruses. Viloss shares his rebuttal in that they aren’t always dead forms of the virus, but are sometimes weakened forms. In essence, through a process called ‘Shedding’, the vaccines are just as contagious as any other virus. Ariot and Elysie quickly call Viloss’ bullshit and explain that such a process is exceedingly rare, especially through contemporary medicine. The group gets into a heated quarrel that goes no-where. In the end, the entire tribe is wiped out by the ensuing disease over the course of mere days. In a later segment - months after the events - Ariot and Elysie are in their home when Commander Aramil comes to visit. They’ve made good friends since the event. Commander Aramil has broguht an autopsy report detailing what happened to the tribe. Despite Viloss’ speculation, the tribals did not die from a spread virus that the team immunized themselves for (this was a Red Herring and take on the anti-vaxxer movement in real life). They instead died from a mutation of a disease which had long-since adapted to be symbiotic with Gallentean physiology and was considered largely beneficial. The signs and symptoms were subtle, but always there. Ariot remembers the birds (both Chekov’s gun and the Macguffin) and how they cawed relentlessly at the team. The birds, with their heightened senses, could pick up on the bacteria they carried. In a revelation he shares with his wife, they come to realize that their pursuit of engaging with other cultures led to their downfall. Commander Aramil gives a very Caldari-looking smile at the irony as the story closes. ~ Rotten Curiosity