Cycling days
by Esteban Jauregui Lorda
Sector H
Selesthain Empire
Planet Brisa
A swarm of air-wagons obscured the
morning sun for a few seconds, like an unnatural cloud. The old shuraki
ran his fingers through the green,
wet grass, and changed his legs' position below his old,
fragile body. Now a little more comfortable, he lifted his gaze and guessed
the border, the line
where Brisa's over-platform ended and the many kilometers
fall to the planet's surface took place.
He remembered his days as a youngling,
when he and his friends ran near the border, and wondered if the platform
would ever fall. He especially
remembered the view... lush greens and bright blues,
the wind spiraling from the bottom of the platform and caressing their
still soft barks... good, old days.
But it was time.
"There's no exact way, there's no ideal
knowledge," preached the Ast'stari from the center of the small garden
to the dozen shuraki before him.
The old shuraki smiled faintly at the thought, at the
idea of knowledge. Ages after it, and they never seemed to advance. Perhaps
now, with all these new
contacts, this new Galaxy opening like a blossoming flower,
for them... perhaps, it was time.
Birth, Growth, Learning, Death. He
murmured the syllables as his fingers, still greenish from the grass, made
their path along the carved surface of
the ruin that once was his home. His home, only seventy
years ago. Of course they were regrowing it, and it had surely sheltered
a family after him, but
still the carvings endured, red on dark brown under the
mid-day sun.
Not far a female shuraki moved, obviously
hurried but yet not running. She carried a package of clothes and some
medicine bugs. His eyes followed
her to the door she walked in, and his imagination saw
the amazed eyes of the newborn inside. Birth, he smiled. He looked all
around. Growth, he thought.
The majestic Embassies of the ambassadorial sector could
be seen from where he stood, strange and familiar at the same time. Learning,
he recognized. His
own shadow graced the soft ground. Death, and it was
about time.
He ran home, excited, his legs feeling
the strain. He only stopped when he reached the door steps, smiling like
when he climbed over the border, like when
he first saw her, like when he was born. He entered his
home, and sat down on his favorite seat. Warm hands, familiar hands, touched
his own, caressing his bark.
He smiled, his eyes went dark under the light of a dying
sun.
Death. It was time.
Notes: The Shuraki is a race of arboreal humanoids native to the Selesthian
Empire. Calm, peace-loving and always devote to the Tree, they revere the
life cycle as supreme and recognize their most driving feeling to be
the search of knowledge.
Brisa is the capital of Selesth, their homeworld.
They inhabit large hover-platforms suspended high over the planet's surface,
in order not to disturb
the native ecosystem. Their technology is biological, based on biomanipulating
species to perform different deeds, from supplying power to growing
homes, or clothes.