Status Update: 11
This tunnel isn't muddy, so you manage to avoid falling flat on your face as you wriggle into the burrow. You do, however, collect a generous amount of soil on your grime coated puppet and cloak. You brush at it in disgust.
The brown scavenger chirps, prompting you to look at it. It starts walking to your left, pointing and signing something at you. You can't tell what it means yet, but you opt to follow it anyways. Clearly this scavenger is persistent about getting you to come with it.
The layout of this burrow is similar to that of the first one you were in, albeit drier. The soil in the canal gradually grows damper and damper, and as you round a corner, you're presented with a small underground reservoir. You gawk at the sight. Was there another one of these in the other burrow? The canal had a gentle downward slope, meaning that the rain water would naturally flow down the canal to pool in this reservoir. Presumably it would also drain away further down... somewhere? You can't tell from here.
The brown scavenger sits down at the banks of the reservoir, pointing at you, then the water. You approach, sitting down next to it, then hesitate. You point at the water, then repeat the sign it did at you earlier; maybe it means water?
It blinks at you, scratching its eartlers. "Water," you sign again, pointing at the reservoir again. Maybe your guess was wrong?
It cocks its head at you in confusion. You point at the water one more time, but before you can make the sign again, it blinks in recognition and chirps. "Water," it signs, rustling its spines. Then, it dips its hand in the water and runs its hand across itself. "Water," it signs again, moving its hand all over itself.
Of course. It wants you to clean yourself. Or rather, it brought you here so you could clean yourself. You set your lance down and dip your hands into the water to rinse them off. Seemingly satisfied, the brown scavenger dips its own hands in and sprinkles some water over itself, then trundles off again, leaving you to wash up on your own.
You make quick work of it, taking off your soiled cloak and wading into the water to give yourself a thorough cleaning. You haven't been near this much usable water since you were in your waste department, and the water that floats off of you reflects that. It's a relief to be clean again. You make sure to scrub yourself and your cloak well before exiting the water.
Donning your cloak again, you give your lance a quick wash as well. It doesn't seem to have been damaged by the grime it accrued recently, thankfully, and with any luck, it won't get nearly as disgusting as it did the past few cycles. You shake the water off before heading back to the main part of the burrow.
All the scavengers in the burrow, around fifteen of them at a cursory head count, turn and stare at you as you climb up into their home. A few rustle their spines anxiously, but those that were with you earlier ignore you, resuming their business. You glance around, feeling more than a little out of place. This seems to be their main home. It's a lot more spacious here than the other burrow you were in, with more than enough ceiling room for you, but you still feel odd being here. You were invited in, but... it still feels strange. You suppose you'll get used to it.
[5 actions left.]
>You could give the scavengers the pearl if you can! It'll probably make staying with them easier considering that scavengers will think of you as a friend if you give them a pearl!
A pearl. You do have a pearl. You pull it out, rub the water off of it, and read it again. What little you have left of Day, all contained in this diamond sphere. Why was this specific log kept anyways? It's not particularly interesting, all things considered, even if you are grateful to have it.
You jump as you notice the crowd of scavengers around you, all staring at your pearl. You curl your hands around it more tightly, nervously glancing around at them. Their gazes are... interested, but not expectant; you relax. Of course they'd be interested in the pearl, but you don't want to—you can't—give this away just like that.
You read the pearl again, and only now do you notice the way the pearl faintly glows as you read it. A simple consequence of the manner in which all iterator puppets read pearls: A brief electric pulse is sent through the diamond, and the immediate resonance of the electrons in the diamond shifting energy states in the fraction of a tick is recorded and processed as data. This resonance also has the side effect of releasing a limited amount of heat and light, which, based on the big, eager eyes of the scavengers around you, is markedly fascinating to anything unfamiliar with the process.
Among them is the blue eyed scavenger kit from a few cycles ago, blinking up at you curiously. You freeze, staring down at it. In hindsight, it makes sense that it would be here, but you weren't expecting it for some reason.
[4 actions left.]
>Maybe you should try to interact with the scav kit?
Maybe... maybe you should. You slowly crouch, putting your lance down and moving closer to its level. It continues blinking at you, seemingly unafraid, and begins to reach for the pearl in your hands, emitting a soft, curious burble.
Hesitating briefly, you spread your hands. The kit stumbles closer—it's just over a year old, still bearing a layer of fuzz that only young scavengers have—and puts its hands on the pearl, blue eyes huge in delight. The pearl is too big for it to hold even in both hands, but it runs its fingers along the smooth surface eagerly, feet thumping in excitement.
You stare down at it as it explores the pearl, murmuring and thumping cheerfully. How Silver would have loved to experience this. He adored scavengers. He would have loved to interact with them in the way you are now, sitting in the center of a circle of them, with one of their kits playing with a pearl in your hands. Jealous... isn't quite the right word, he wouldn't be jealous. But he would be envious, and he would have loved to know what it was like.
You can't tell him what it's like. You can't tell him any of this. He's dead, and you're not in your can anymore. There's no way to tell him what the infant fuzz of a scavenger kit looks like up close, no way to tell him that they've been making tools, no way to tell him that they have language. You have so much you can't tell him anymore. You have so much you want to say to him, and you can't. You can't talk to him anymore. He's gone. He's dead.
... maybe... you can pretend you're going to tell him later. You can just pretend you're collecting data for later, when you're able to relay it. Just collecting data in one big batch so it's easier to send. You can do that. You're just waiting to surprise him with the information. Yeah. You're just sending the information later.
The scavenger kit is still playing with the pearl, patting its surface and blinking at it. Then it looks up at you, whining softly. It signs something; you have to assume it's related to making the pearl glow, though you're not sure what exactly it's saying.
But you can make the pearl glow again. You gently push its hands off and read the pearl again. The kit gasps as the pearl glimmers gently, reaching out for it again. You can see the light reflecting off its eyes, big and blue and delighted.
The pearl cools down, its glow ceasing. The kit pats the pearl, disappointed, at looks up at you again. "Glow," it signs, pointing at the pearl. "Glow." You oblige, reading the pearl again.
The kit laughs. The sound is a quiet, breathy trill, a whisper of joy exhaled from its tiny body as it jumps up and down in excitement and cradles the pearl in its arms. It continues giggling as you nudge its arms off and read the pearl again, the pearl brightening in the same way the kit's gaze lights up.
You've never heard a scavenger laugh before, let alone one of their kits. It's a precious sound. Almost silent, and yet so full of joy, a sound of pure, rapturous enjoyment. You read the pearl again, solely to get the kit to laugh. And laugh it does, bouncing around you and hugging the pearl. You watch it jump around, huffing in amusement. You're glad it's happy.
[3 actions left.]
>You should try to learn how the scavengers communicate.
You've been trying to. Now that you know they have language, you could learn it. It will just take time to start to understand them. You know a few signs, at least? You think you understand those. They also vocalize, but you don't have any point of reference on where to even begin understanding what they mean with their chittering.
As if on cue, the scavengers crowded around you chitter and part, allowing the party leader from earlier to push through. The scavenger kit turns, chirping cheerfully at the sight of the older scavenger, and scampers towards it. The leader crouches to allow the child to climb up into its fur as its gaze—it has green eyes, you notice now—lands on you. There is still a point of distrust in its gaze, but mostly, it seems unsure on what to make of you.
Another scavenger comes pattering up—the same one you saw a few cycles back, the first time you spotted the scavenger kit. It fusses at the kit, combing its hands through the kit's fur, just as the leader nuzzles into it. You can only assume that they're mates, and the kit is their child.
The leader turns its gaze back to you. The kit pops up over its shoulder, snuffling, but hangs onto its parent's back as the older scavenger creeps closer, staring at you. It makes a few signs at you; you don't recognize any of these. But it keeps staring at you, making the signs again, almost like it's trying to talk to you.
[2 actions left.]
>Draw on mud for now, or some characters, since they know a bit of your citizens' written language. We can learn about those signs along the way.
Do they? It's been a long time since they've been in contact with your creators. The... testing done on them happened generations ago, and none of those scavengers would be alive today. You only know about it through preinstalled information yourself.
Then again, they seem to have retained their distrust of overseers. Even now, the leader is glaring at the overseer that just popped up, though it's not currently making any moves to attack it. The kit pulls itself a little higher to blink at your overseer, but its parent nudges it back down, turning its gaze back to you.
What was it that they were taught anyways? You quickly skim through your memory, ignoring how the leader's gaze gets more pointed. It was all simple glyphs, radicals of more complex characters. You doubt they were ever taught to write anything more complicated than the most basic characters. You wouldn't... well, they've exceeded your expectations in multiple ways already. Maybe they would be capable of it, but you just don't know.
As the leader starts to chitter impatiently, you put the pearl away and begin scratching what you think they would be most likely to recognize into the dirt. You've seen them use this glyph before, you think? Your memories on this matter are incomplete, but you draw the glyph out anyways. Connection, familiarity, attachment, sometimes trade, the character for the third natural urge appears in many other characters, and you would be surprised if this character was not taught to the scavengers long ago. The question is whether these scavengers recognize the symbol.
The leader blinks at your handwriting as you pull back, dusting the dirt off your hands. It points at your writing, then signs at you; the sign looks remarkably like a mimicry of the radical you just drew. You hesitantly repeat the sign back at it. What does this one mean? Connection? Trade? Friend? Safety?
The scavenger walks over and begins scribbling on the ground next to where you wrote the character. It's... drawing the same glyph, but with several errors. The ends of the character aren't hooked, and the lines in the middle are shorter than the topmost line. And yet—and as you watch, it finishes writing with a flick of its wrist, adding another character below the first—it's clearly writing something with meaning.
It looks a lot like an abstraction of a scavenger's head, actually. It's a combination of two glyphs, the first one meaning connection and familiarity, and the second meaning peace and calmness, or sometimes emptiness. Put together, it very much resembles a scavenger with a very prominent set of eartlers, not unlike the ones the leader scavenger possesses.
It points at the characters, tapping its handwriting with its foot, then signs at you again. "Friend?" it asks, tipping its head—you notice that now, the head tipping seems to be some sort of question marker.
"Friend," you echo, and—shit, you don't know how to say yes or no. You quickly scrawl a cross on the floor. "Dangerous," you say, then point to the cross. Hopefully that... makes sense to them? Do they even understand a cross the same way?
The leader blinks at you a few times. "Friend, yes?" it says, adding a new sign at the end. You hope you're understanding it correctly. "Friend, yes, dangerous, no?"
"Friend, yes, dangerous, no," you repeat, fingers stumbling over the signs. This is unlike anything you know. There were several sign languages in use back before global ascension concluded, but you didn't download the data on any of those. Not that they would help you with this very much, you think.
The leader scavenger stares at you for a few more moments, gaze flickering over you, but then turns and walks away. The kit stares back at you as its parent leaves, but it vanishes from sight as its parent rounds a corner. Its mate follows, giving you a backwards glance before leaving. You're not sure what that means, but at least you learned a few more words?
Some of the scavengers around you dispersed as you were talking to the leader scavenger, but there are still five of them sitting around you. None of them seem particularly perturbed by you, at least, and most are just blinking at you curiously.
[1 action left.]
>Hey innocence, you uh, try trading. Or do we not need anything else?
You were going to trade the bomb you have. Though… pulling an explosive out in such close quarters might require a bit of delicacy.
You glance around at the scavengers around you. “Friend,” you hesitantly sign, pointing to yourself. They blink at you, and one cocks its head. “Dangerous, no,” you add, trying not to curl into yourself. You look like a bit of a fool, you’re certain, but the scavengers still seem puzzled. One has its head tipped fully to the side.
Your flimsy attempt at communicating will have to suffice. You slowly, carefully reach into your pockets, still glancing around at the scavengers as you pull the bomb out. All five of them immediately stiffen, but you quickly put the bomb on the floor. “Dangerous, no,” you repeat, and you nudge the bomb towards one of the scavengers. “Friend.”
The closest scavenger, a tan colored one with short, nubby eartlers, cautiously picks up the bomb, holding it in both hands and blinking at you. Seeing no further movement from you, however, it puts the bomb back down again. “Friend,” it signs, then adds an additional flicking motion at the end, tipping its head to indicate a question. It… doesn’t seem like a word, maybe some sort of particulate?
You clumsily repeat the signs to it anyways. It hums at you, taking the bomb, and quickly signs something to the other scavengers before scampering off. The other scavengers take to staring at you; one still has its head tipped all the way, blinking at you with big yellow eyes curiously. You awkwardly glance between them, unsure of what to do. If there were an easier way of learning that language, you would use it without a second thought. You really can’t tell if you’re guessing anything correctly.
The tan scavenger returns, bringing two spears with it. It offers them to you, humming cheerfully. You reach for them, then hesitate. You don’t really have the space to carry these, nor do you really need them at this point. “No,” you hesitantly sign, nudging the spears away. You don’t even really need anything else.
The scavengers glance at each other. The tan one signs at its companions again, then hands the spears off to the nearest scavenger and scampers off again. It returns quicker this time, carrying with it some sort of blue fruit. It deposits the fruit at your feet, blinking at you expectantly. Another offering, this time of… food, you suppose?
You reach out to accept the gift, picking them up—oh, this isn’t fruit. It’s bug pupae. Considerably mature bug pupae too. You look at the bug pupae given to you, then glance up at the scavengers. They’re still watching you expectantly. You’d feel rude refusing another gift, and… well, it’s not like you can taste anything your neurons leech nutrients from anyways. Food is food. You need the sustenance anyways.
You pocket two of the bug pupae, and hold the third one up to your neurons. The scavengers blink at you rapidly in confusion as you do so, but make no move to stop you. One reaches out for your neurons, but backs off as you pull your umbilical cord further away from them. They watch quietly, curiously, as your neurons siphon nutrients from the pupa. You can’t help but feel a bit embarrassed about what must be an unorthodox way of obtaining nutrients, but it’s not like you can help it. (-1 bomb; +2 blue fruit)
You don’t even know how to thank them for the food. You lift your hands, trying to will some sort of sign to come out of your mind, but find nothing of use. The scavengers blink at you for a few moments, but clearly don’t intuit what you’re trying to do, instead wandering off in pairs and groups. You find yourself left alone for the night, sitting in the middle of their settlement.
Sighing, you get to your feet, picking your lance up. Anywhere in here is… probably as good as any? You still feel out of place here, but it’s not like you can go anywhere at this point. The rain is already coming down outside, and you can hear the water rushing past and down the drainage canal. You were invited to stay, after all.
You end up finding a random wall to lean against, and much like the other cycles you’ve spent out here, you settle in as best as you can, bringing your knees to your chest and resting your head on your arms. Across from you is the dim entrance of a little nook that you can only assume houses some scavengers. If they don’t want you so near, none seem to make any complaint. With all the scavengers having gone to rest and sleep, it’s rather quiet here.
… never in your wildest thoughts could you have ever imagined something like this. And to interact with their children, even. If only…
You bury your face in your arms. You’ll… just tell Silver about this later. You have time. You have time.