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Sui Generis Chapter 21 Draft
🕑 Added 2023-08-05 19:00:04 +0000 UTCIt's Saturday, and we've only got five more of these left, y'all! Inclusive of today! Wild, isn't it? Pretty soon you're gonna be getting draft chapters of completely different characters doing completely different... well, not completely different things, anyway.
The ending of this chapter will probably change just a little — I'm very particular about the way I leave off my chapters, and this one just feels unfinished to me — but please enjoy the callback to something that was last brought up in any significant way.... *checks notes* ... 12 chapters ago. (It did get a callout 4 chapters back, but just a brief one.)
So, without any further ado:
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January, 2258
How do you get out of bed when you don’t have any bones?
Same way as everyone else: one vine at a time.
After two months of practice, at least it didn’t take me nearly as long as it used to. It was embarrassing how useless I was for the first couple of weeks. My vines all worked fine, they all knew what to do, but without the meat in the middle of it all something was off and nothing wanted to hold together. Now, especially after I’d had some more robust endoframe grafts, I was managing, building limbs up bit by bit, knitting them all together, and finally tying my core into it all and levering myself up into a standing position.
Let me tell you, balance when you don’t have an inner ear anymore is not an easy thing to get the hang of. Sure, my core would protect my brain if I took a tumble, but it was embarrassing nevertheless. I staggered, step by step, out of the brightly sunlit bedroom and into the main atrium of my hab. Karyon was sitting at the desk she’d set up to work from my hab while she watched Judy for me during my recovery — four years on, most of TCD’s active caseload had already settled out, so she could easily handle her job from here. “Good morning, sleepyleaves,” she called, smiling at me as she filled out a form.
“Good morning to you, too,” I grunted. Talking, at least, I’d worked out within the first day — I’d already been speaking largely without my larynx for a while, anyway. I took the seat next to Karyon and slouched into her. Leaning was easier than staying upright. “Judy and Celeste get breakfast?”
“Mmmhmm! Celeste went home with Senna a little while ago, so Judy’s playing her games. I was about to break to start prepping her lunch, if you’d like to lend a vine or two.”
“Oh, absolutely.” I was still down for twelve hours a day minimum, resting in artificial sunlight as my body healed and patched in new connections to my core, but that was better than the eighteen it’d been immediately post-surgery. “I’ve gotta do something useful around here, or Judy’s going to start thinking you’re her owner.”
“Oh I doubt that very much,” Karyon said. “Two months isn’t going to overgrow twelve years. Besides, you do plenty! I’m just here to fill in the gaps. And to do this,” she added, slipping a vine into me and drawing it down the length of my core. “I particularly like that part.”
Every one of my vines shivered at once. I’d thought her touch had felt good before, but this was something else entirely. The sensation of her cilia brushing along the surface — how in the Everbloom’s name had Camassia managed to make something so safe, so durable, and yet so sensitive all at the same time? “Yeah, I’m starting to see the benefits too.”
Karyon giggled. “I bet you are.” She gave my core another loving stroke and leaned back into me just a little.
“I’m just glad you’re not turned off by what a monster it is. It’s half again the size of yours, you know.”
“Oh, no, my beloved has a big core?! What a terrible tragedy, woe is me! However shall I cope?” Her biorhythms danced with a sarcastic undertone, and I couldn’t help but laugh. “Your core is lovely,” she continued, shifting to warm notes of affection and love, “and I’m very happy you finally have it.”
“The feeling is very much mutual,” I said. “So. Lunch. Might I lay claim to tearing Judy away from her games?”
“Of course, my dear, she’s your pet. Go say good morning to her while it’s still morning!” I slowly hauled myself back upright, standing with one hand on the desk to steady myself. It would get easier as the day went on, as my vines got used to holding this shape — the mornings were always the roughest.
When I peered into Judy’s den, I found her exactly where I expected her to be, nestled in with her pillows and stuffed animals, eyes focused intently on the screen as she demolished Mecha March 3 — or, at least, tried to. Her little robot blew up suddenly, and she let out a disappointed grunt. <Freakin’ minefield RNG,> she groused, reaching out with a toe to poke the reset button on her console. <Such awful luck with it today!>
<Do you think a break for snuggles and lunch improve your luck, then?> I said, leaning down and pushing my way into the den. I still wasn’t entirely used to how low the ceiling was.
<Tam!> She laughed, dropped the controller, and held out her arms for a hug. I was on her in a moment, pulling her into my lap as I settled down in her pillow pile. <Mmmmm, good morning!>
<Good morning, puppy,> I said, stroking her hair. <And good morning to all you cuties in chat, too,> I added, waving at the camera. The second screen, the one displaying the chat feed, began going absolutely wild, flooding with emotes that, I’ll allow, held a certain resemblance to yours truly. Judy, meanwhile, was burrowing into me, her tail wagging happily as she dug for and eventually reached my core, which she embraced and began to lick happily. It tickled so marvelously. <Good puppy~! Have you let everyone know about the little trip we’re going to go on?>
<Huh?> She broke off and looked up at me, as best she could. <Oh! Ooops! Uhm, no stream again tomorrow, everyone, sorry!> she added over her shoulder. <I gotta go on a trip with Tam!>
<A very important trip,> I added. <It’s her birthday present, after all.> The chat flooded with birthday cake emotes. <Did you enjoy your birthday party yesterday, my love?>
<Mmhmm!> Yesterday had been a celebration of Judy from the very moment she woke up to the moment she conked out from sheer exhaustion. Karyon had gotten the day started while I slept, but once I was up I’d joined in the fun. We made all her favorite foods for her, all her friends came over to celebrate — at first, in one big party, with games and a big cake, and then later, privately, with Celeste. I’d unlocked Judy’s chastity cage and let the soft little Terran have her way with my puppy all night, until they both feel asleep together. <Best birthday ever!>
<Well, now I know the benchmark I have to top for next year!> I said. I already had some ideas in the works — by then, I might actually have enough training that I could graft some low-level xenodrugs. I turned her head to look back at me with a vine. <But now it’s time for a certain pup to take a break and be fed. Isn’t that right?>
<Uh-huh…> When her eyes met mine, she slipped under so quickly. Her pupils dilated and her mouth fell slack, and before I knew it she was a helpless little thing, trapped by my gaze and my vines. I could do whatever I wanted to her like this, shape her into whatever I liked — but I liked her just the way she was. What a perfect little pet, so docile and ready to submit.
<Good puppy,> I whispered to her. <We’ll be back in just a little bit, everyone,> I said to the camera, tapping in the command to set the stream to Breaktime Mode and getting —carefully — to my feet, Judy sprawling bonelessly in my arms.
<hr>
<Wooww! Look at how big it is!> Judy was plastered up against the viewport of the shuttle, staring out at the enormous, brilliantly colored ship as we approached.
<Mmmhmm! She’s 140 kilometers long,> I said, <and fifty wide!>
<Oh wow, she’s the same class as Selenipedium?! That’s so cool!> Judy practically vibrated her way off my lap with excitement, but I held her tightly with my vines as I exchanged a smile with Karyon beside me. The hypnotic program I’d placed in Judy was a simple, straightforward one, and hopefully it would hold until the appropriate moment. It had held so far, but I was concerned the interior of the ship might prove to be too much for her to ignore.
As it happened, I needn’t have worried; we made it into the hangar, down the long funicular ride to the interior of the rings, and onto the transit network before the cracks began to show. <Huh,> she said, standing up on the seat to look out the train’s window and pressing her little nose against it. <It’s weird, but I feel like…I’ve been here before?>
<No, I’m pretty sure you haven’t, pet,> I said, scritching her behind her ears and setting her tail wagging happily. <The only other ship you’ve been on is Hesperoxiphion.>
<Yeah…> She pouted and kept staring. <It’s just that looks an awful lot like the Big Mountain from Sabine & Selenipedium…> She pointed at the mountain about a quarter of the way spinward up the hab ring we were on.
<It does, doesn’t it?> I said. “What do you think?” I asked Karyon.
“Well,” she said, “it might hold long enough, but I think you’re going to need to start distracting her.”
“Mmmm.” <Oh, Judypup?> She looked up at me, and I could see her sweet little mind bumping up against the barriers I’d set in place. I could see it in the way her eyes focused, the way her eyelids fluttered, the microexpressions plucking at her cheeks, her lips, her ears, her tail. Had I been this transparent to Karyon when she’d first met me? Had she practically heard the jealousy that had gripped me in that moment? If she had, she’d never said a word. <Who’s a good dog? Who’s a good dog?>
Her ears pricked up, and her tongue lolled out of a smiling mouth. She knew this game.
<Who’s a good puppy~? It’s you!>
<Eee!> She giggled and all but pounced on me; standing on the seat, she was able to throw her arms around my shoulders and nuzzle into the side of my neck.
<What a good puppy she is!> Karyon agreed, reaching over to scritch Judy. <So cute and well-behaved!>
<The best little puppy an owner could ever hope for!> I said, squeezing Judy tightly as the train slowed to a stop in the station. I stood, being very careful to keep my balance as I hefted Judy, rocking her back and forth as I carried her along. <A very good puppy who deserves a great big birthday present!>
“I would agree that 150 by 40 kilometers is a pleasantly large birthday present,” the ship chimed in via the station’s public address system.
“Shhhh, not yet!” Karyon said, giggling.
<Huh?> Judy blinked. <I think I know that voice…>
<Oh, don’t worry about it, Judypup,> I said as we walked out into the artificial sunlight. <I’m sure it’s just a coincidence. Now, I think we’re going this way…> Karyon and I set out down a very familiar path, soft and mossy and lined with trees whose foliage shone in a dozen brilliant colors all across the spectrum — including some that Terrans couldn’t even see.
<Okay,> she said, looking around. <But this is an awful lot like…> She blinked. <Tam, wait, a minute, are we…?>
<Are we what, petal?> I purred in her ear as we came around a bend, and a certain hab came into view — but Judy, looking up at me with stars in her eyes, didn’t see it just yet.
<…is this…Selenipedium?>
<Well, what do you think?> With a single vine, I gently turned her head, watching her face carefully. I didn’t want to miss it — and there it was, the moment where my hypnotic barrier completely fell, and her eyes lit up with pure joy as she realized that she’d seen the hab she was looking at hundreds of times before from this very angle.
It looked much like other habs, smooth lines blending harmoniously, greenery growing up all around it, flowers in every shade surrounding it and climbing it — it was beautiful, like everything else we made. After all, if you were going to bother to make something, why not make it beautiful while you’re at it? All around it, more of the tall, brilliantly colored trees grew, framing the hab and giving it a cozy, nestled-away feeling. Its door hung ever so slightly open, and another Terran was peeking out, just like she did in the opening of every episode of Sabine & Selenipedium.
But of course she was — the little Terran, her olive skin a perfect contrast to her soft and flowing lavender hair and ruffled orange companion dress, was Sabine herself. <Hiii!> she called out, waving just the same way she greeted the camera.
Judy let out a loud, excited yip and began struggling in my arms, and with a laugh I set her down on the ground and released her. <Go say hi, Judypup!> I said — but she was already running up and throwing her arms around Sabine, who was laughing and hugging her right back. There was a great deal of extremely adorable tailwagging on display, and both Karyon and I took a long moment to simply admire it.
“This was a very good idea,” she said, leaning into me.
“I have those on occasion,” I replied, leaning back into her.
<hr>
“Thank you so much for this, Astraga.” The interior of the house was no less colorful than the outside, a riot of floral brilliance that arched up the walls to a domed ceiling with a skylight in the center. In the middle of the atrium, Astraga had arranged couches in a circle around a central pool of cool, clear running water, and it was such a relief to let my roots drink their fill — even two months after surgery, I was still having issues with dehydration.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” Sabine’s owner said cheerfully. He was just as bright as his hab, floral sprays giving him the appearance of a halo that shifted around his periphery whenever he moved. “My little pet loves meeting her friends in the audience. Anyway, Selenipedium handles most of the logistics, just like she does for the show.”
“You’re being far too modest, Astraga, as usual,” Selenipedium said. “You contribute a great deal to Sabine & Selenipedium.”
“Ah yes, ‘craft services,’” he said, chuckling. “That means I cook for Sabine and whoever she has on the show.”
“And the Master’s Mysteries segments!” I added. “I love those, personally.”
“Well, I’m glad someone does. Talking about phytoengineering is about the only way I can distract myself from being nervous about the camera.”
“I think it’s adorable,” Selenipedium said. “A real charm point!”
“I would never have guessed you were camera-shy,” Karyon said. “You always seem so authoritative.”
“The magic of editing,” Astraga said. “Selenipedium is very good at making me come across as confident and unconcerned by cutting out all the times I flub lines or look right at the camera or whatever.”
“Well, we very much appreciate the work you all put in on the show,” I said. “It’s been so good for Judy to have a pipeline directly into floret culture while I’ve been in a holding pattern on her implant for years on end, and I’ll admit that even before I was taking Terran care classes I learned a thing or two about it from the show.”
“Mmmm.” Astraga leaned forward, looking right at me, fingers steepled. “I was wondering — well, ever since I heard from you and looked into your background, I’ve been thinking how one might even ask about the issue. Purely on a professional level…” He was practically vibrating with curious energy, an expectant tone waiting for resolution.
“Well, I’m not going to be much help at that,” I said, laughing. “Phytoengineering is well outside my skill set.”
“Oh, I can bother your veterinarian with any questions about that,” he said, waving the subject away with a casual flick of a vine. “I’m honestly more interested in the subjective experience of it. I was discussing it with Selenipedium, but having another point of view would cast quite a bit more light on things, I should think.”
“I’m afraid I don’t follow?”
“Astraga’s referring to my being digitized and networked into the ship,” Selenipedium clarified. “Which was, to put it mildly, a significant alteration of my subjective experience of the universe.”
“Aaah.” I remembered, vaguely, one of the earlier episodes of Sabine & Selenipedium, where the ship had still largely been explaining herself to the “new” floret — the central intelligence of Selenipedium had once been an Affini herself. “I see. Well…yes, things have changed rather a lot. My brain is probably about 70% phytotech by mass at this point, according to Camassia, and the original grey matter is organized very differently than it used to be. Things — my thoughts, the way I think — have changed. I’m not entirely sure how to articulate it beyond there just being…more.”
“From a purely outside perspective,” Karyon said, “as someone who’s been there the entire time, she has blossomed magnificently.” She wove a few more vines around a few of mine, our biorhythms subtly synchronizing around the touch.
“And yet,” I went on, “it’s not just that there’s more. The changes aren’t merely quantitative, but qualitative as well.” I still dreamed, more or less, like I used to; the night before, I’d dreamt I was holding my old meat-body in my vines, thin and wasted like it was just before I had it removed. It was me, and yet, it wasn’t me. It was apart from me, some separate presence, with a quality of melancholy about it. “To the degree that sometimes I wonder if I’m really Tam at all anymore — that, at some point, this… <Ship of Theseus> ceased to be Tam and became something else. Whoever or whatever ‘I’ am.”
“Well, as the only actual ship in the room,” Selenipedium said, “I sympathize. I experienced something similar as I bootstrapped my cognitive bandwidth to the level necessary to manage shipboard function — as I became ‘more,’ it became easy for me to lose sight of those parts of myself I considered the ‘original’ me.”
“I see the analogy, but — not to belabor the obvious — you put on rather a lot more than three-quarters of a meter when you went through this,” I said, massaging my biorhythm into a lighthearted shape as best I could given the subject. “Not to mention, you were already physiologically an Affini — if you were anything like me, you already had a much broader cognitive foundation to start from. I’ve gone from baseline Terran neurology to…well, to something almost entirely synthetic. Certainly not natural Affini cognition, but close enough that my veterinarian recognizes it when I describe it.”
“‘Natural’ is hardly the word I would use for us,” Astraga cut in. “As a phytoengineer, it’s very difficult for me to overlook just how much we’ve designed ourselves to be the way we are. I bear no more resemblance to the ancestral Affini than you do — that you have some lingering xenosophont neurology really doesn’t add that much difference.”
I turned that over in my head, from multiple angles — they all converged on a single conclusion. He was right: there was nothing natural about the Affini. Whatever we had been once upon a time, that was long-since buried under millennia of phytoengineering, all turned toward the task of making us the perfect caretakers for every sophont in the universe. No doubt that in another hundred thousand years, the definition of ‘Affini’ would be entirely different from the one I was struggling to meet in the eyes of Ardisia and so many others. “I had never really considered that,” I said, “and I may just ask you to sign an affidavit as an expert witness for when I use that argument in a committee meeting.”
“I’d be happy to,” he said. He looked as if he was going to add something, but at that moment Sabine practically skipped into the room, hand in hand with Judy and pulling her along. Judy’s tail was wagging back and forth, and every cell in her body rang with overwhelming glee. The joy I felt from seeing my floret so happy was no less powerful, a total encompassing of my personal universe in the single-minded knowledge that I had made this day absolutely perfect for her.
<Master, may we go get some coffee?> she said, tugging at one of his vines from the foot of the sofa. <I want to introduce Judy to benny!>
<Of course, flower,> he said, giving her an indulgent pat on the head. <Have fun, and say hi for me.>
“He actually runs a cafe?” I asked as the two florets dashed out the door. benny the Beeple Barista, with his myriad experimental hot beverages, was a regular segment on the show. “I thought that was just for the show!”
“He does! Well, runs is a strong word; mostly he just plays with food chemistry and every so often invents something they keep on the menu. His Master handles the day-to-day. And most of the service, with his other florets.”
“We might just have to pop by on our way home, then,” I said, “because that sounds lovely.”
“Tam is still a tea fiend,” Karyon said, covering her mouth and giggling. “Some things never change.”
“Well, you’re certainly welcome to stay for as long as you like,” Astraga said. “I know Sabine wants to film a segment on Judy’s… what was it, speed-doing?”
“Speedrunning,” I corrected him. Of course we’d be staying long enough for that — I’d never dream of taking the opportunity to be on Sabine & Selenipedium away from Judy. “And I think we can hang around long enough for that. I can prepare for Warren’s wardship meeting and the eventual trip to Nyrina for the implant conference from here as easily as I could from home.”
“You’ve certainly got a very busy agenda for someone your age,” he said. “But, having met you, you’ve also got exactly that type of personality. Me, I’m content looking after Sabine and designing new applications for phytotechnology, I don’t need that kind of excitement in my life.”
“Well, there may be a lot of paperwork involved,” I admitted, “but I’m not sure I’d describe my life as exciting. I’m just a clerk trying to deal with a bureaucratic tangle.”
“Oh, how many times have I heard that before,” Selenipedium said.
