by Kevin Eric Paul
The first wife of Priest Zarda extended her tendrils towards him and began puffing out a precise mixture of pheromones.
“Husband. Must you leave your harem? Your females will miss you dearly, and our latest clutch will begin hatching soon.”
The stout, pale orange worm turned its eyeless head towards her and directed a series of pheromone puffs to her receptors. “My First. We have discussed this. I must find the Creator. Leave me to my preparations.”
“Husband. Priest. There will be many dangers. Is your faith not enough?”
Zarda considered that. “I…suppose it is not. I must discover the truth for myself. But do not be afraid–if something goes wrong during the expedition, you and the other females have my clone. I have trained him well.”
“But he’s not you, husband!”
“I am sorry. I do plan on returning–once I have met the Creator.”
“Yes, husband. Be sure that you do.” She retracted her tendrils dejectedly and used her setae to return to the harem pit, extending and contracting her body along the way. She puffed out a last signal to express her worry before exiting Zarda’s chamber.
#
The pilot of the great bioship Brackla puffed instructions to stand by for departure into its receptors at the helm. Genetically designed and grown to provide habitat and sustenance for the worms onboard, the ship was to bore through the mantle and crust and bring its occupants to the surface for the first time in history.
“Surveyor Yorba,” signaled Priest Zarda, “Is Brackla prepared to begin the ascent?”
“Yes, Priest,” puffed Yorba. “We begin the expedition on your order.”
“Very well. Helm, instruct Brackla to commence boring.”
“Right away, Priest,” answered the pilot.
The bioship groaned in response and began chewing through the upper mantle with its diamond teeth. The crushed silicate rock passed through the middle of its body as it pulled itself forward with dozens of powerful, diamond-tipped claws. The interior of Brackla vibrated with the effort as it accelerated to maximum boring speeds.
“Status report, Surveyor?” Priest Zarda asked twenty hours later.
“We have traveled nearly two hundred kilometers and should reach the crust in approximately forty-two hours.”
“Well ahead of schedule. And the temperature?”
“Dropped another 200C, Priest. Only 1400C now, but Brackla can handle the cold. Though if this continues…”
“Have faith, Surveyor. It will grow warmer again. It will be as it was in the ancient stories passed down through my order.”
“Yes, Priest,” Yorba puffed with renewed confidence.
#
“We’ve reached the crust,” announced the pilot. “Minutes away from breaking through. Brackla is experiencing no difficulties with the denser rock and metals.”
“Very good. Temperature?”
“1700C and rising, Priest. You were right,” puffed Yorba.
“Breaching the crust now,” the pilot’s pheromones communicated, though he was unable to hide a touch of fear and anxiety.
The big bioship shuddered with uncertainty.
“Surveyor Yorba?” prompted Zarda.
“A moment, Priest,” he replied before puffing various queries into Brackla’s receptors. “We are in…liquid, Priest. A sea of…mostly molten silicon dioxide. With sodium carbonate and calcium carbonate. Temperate is…1850C,” Yorba puffed with a sense of awe. “Molten above as it is below…”
“The legends were true…But what lies beyond it? Pilot, instruct Brackla to continue upwards through this…sea.”
“Yes, Priest.” The bioship vibrated in agreement after receiving its orders.
Hours later, Brackla breached the surface. The glowing orange sea bubbled around the bioship as it attempted to make sense of its surroundings.
“Why have we stopped?” asked Zarda.
Yorba puffed signals of uncertainty and confusion. “There’s nothing else for us to travel though, Priest.”
“Explain.”
“There’s…nothing.”
“Nothing? What do you–”
“Just that. It’s…emptiness. Openness. The endless sea and nothing more. And somehow, it’s warmer. 2100C.”
Zarda puffed a sense of disbelief. “Impossible. Where is the Creator? The paradise that was promised?”
No worm puffed for several minutes. Then Yorba signaled excitement.
“What is it?” asked the Priest.
“Brackla senses something. An enormous sphere, radiating energy, heating the sea. It’s very far away, deep into the nothingness. But it’s there, and much hotter than even the core.”
“…The Creator?”
“Perhaps.”
“Then our journey is not over. Gather all the data you can, then we will return home. One day we’ll come back here. Once we’ve learned how to travel beyond the sea.”
~
Bio:
Kevin Eric Paul is a Finnish-Canadian fiction writer currently residing in Ottawa (originally Thunder Bay). He enjoys working on genre novels and short stories, always under the close supervision of his old tortoiseshell cat Mittens.
Philosophy Note:
This is a classic tale of metaphysics, a search for God and the meaning of existence – but told from the perspective of polygamous worms who communicate via pheromones and live deep under the surface of an alien planet.
