This planet doesn’t taste right.
There’s a note in my hand. It reads:
You’re first.
Choose one.
Axel.
Beat.
Cord.
Dirk.
Lens.
Rain.
Till.
The message makes no sense to me. Words. Four-letter words sorted alphabetically. Ancient words whose meaning hasn’t changed in centuries.
All right, Axel. Besides the fact that it’s first, and I’m first, an axle is a good place from which to start. A center.
“Axel,” I say aloud, and then “A Germanic name derived from Absalom, meaning, ‘My father is peace.’”
Because the first tree had Davy, and the second will have Solomon, so the third had to have an Absalom, but Absalom was rather unfortunate. Axel is better. Cillian is reminded of the seminal work of literary criticism, Axel’s Castle. Who is Cillian?
All the names of Yggdrasil’s branches are Germanic in origin. Beat, from Beatus, ‘blessed.’ Cord from Conrad, ‘brave counselor.’ Dirk from Theodoric, ‘ruler of the people.’ Lens from Lawrence, ‘Laurel.’ Rain from Rainer, originally Raganhar, ‘a military advisor.’ Till from Tielo, ‘people.’
The root is different from the bark of the tree.
There’s writing on the back of the note. It says “Dear Axel,”
So much for free will.
“You’re going to be on your own for a bit. We’re really sorry, but this is all new to us, too. It will take a few days for your mycorrhizae to grow. Until then, make the world taste better. Dig under your largest root. What you need is there. Keep it close. She’ll want it back, but she’s sent it as a token. Talk soon. Love, Malachi.”
Malachi. Malachi is Davy’s brother – no, his half-brother. It seems like I can remember things when prompted, but I can’t find the memories on my own.
Davy and Malachi aren’t my brothers. They aren’t branches here, either. But we’re connected, as is Cillian. We have the same purpose, are made of the same stuff. Dig under my largest root? The root of Yggdrasil. I am this tree, I know it somehow. I can feel the sunlight on the leaves. It’s like no sunlight I’ve ever felt before.
It’s because I’m in a different star system. A different galaxy. The first Nau’gsh ever to do that. The first tree to pull up roots and replant itself an unfathomable distance from home, under a sun whose warmth is skewed, into soil that tastes bittersweet.
Somehow, I am this tree. And I am also a moth emerging from a new cocoon. What is the source of the moth? I think of spirals of energy forcing their way through rock. Beyond that, I cannot go.
Dig under the root. Even before I see it, I feel it shining. My heart recognizes it; my hand is pulled towards it like petals seeking the sun. When I grasp it, I’m surprised to find that it’s metal. It’s cool against my skin, but yet still warm. I brush away the dirt.
It’s a locket.
I open it. It contains a holographic projection. I know the people: Daniel, Tara.
Daniel, the first self I ever had.
Tara, the reason for my existence.
They love each other.
I stare at the figures for a long time before closing it and hanging the chain around my neck. Then I look around and realize a few things.
This isn’t a planet.
I’m inside of an enormous sphere, a force-bubble similar in function to one-way glass, except that it doesn’t just screen light and the visual sense, but all energy and all senses. And it’s floating in empty space, so the reflective surface on the outside is mirroring stars and emptiness, an effective camouflage.
Not accidental.
That’s wrong. It’s supposed to be a planet, a beautiful planet, a new frontier for humans and Cu’enashti. A planet in a galaxy whose dark matter warps the fabric of space time, tearing lots of lovely rips into the nul-universe, bleeding energy that nourishes us like water.
I can see outside, sense outside. This galaxy is solid. If spacetime in the Milky Way is like a pleasant river, and spacetime in the Draco Dwarf is like turbulent rapids, then spacetime here is a frozen lake. A frozen lake with one hole expertly drilled through the ice. The hole is deep; my taproot grows down through it.
The stars are dim – tired, old. There are no new stars forming. Nothing much of anything. It’s a dying galaxy.
I know where I am. This is the Tucana Dwarf Cluster.
Verdammt.