A Concerto Of Neurons And Neutrons

My instruments confirmed what was already visually obvious: the initial stages of ennui and dementia have set in for Sophie.

We are now in a race against time. As Principal, Sophie is in position to enforce a raft of changes to the education system of the nearby school, but it is not enough. High schools remain closed as adolescents are too valued for their work around the home to "waste" with education. She must advance still further - and now, she must do so before her last vestiges of clear-headedness and ambition leave her.

On the bright side she has passed the military's physical examination - she is one of the strongest specimens they have, even considering her age - so she is physically permitted to continue working. I only hope that she can retain presence of mind to put in just a few more years of effort. I will try to keep her mind engaged at the chess board, as that may slow the decay.

She is actually quite good at this. Perhaps there is still hope.

... For Horrors Untold

It appears that these humans have adapted the same zero point energy that the Sims had. I have no other explanation.

The body is still in the ground - I have gravimetric devices that would register any movement - and yet this entity wears the face of my former body. It appears to be composed of WIMPs as I have observed it moving through solid objects, but on the other hand at times it demonstrates what I can only describe as some form of quantum entanglement that enables it to manipulate objects by merging with their molecular structure.

At first I thought this was some unique Takisian biologically aberration caused by the unique environment, but carefully phrased questions suggest that many humans undergo this quasi-material metamorphosis upon cessation of bodily functions. The humans do not seem to be able to harness this power in other ways; this requires much further study. I will not interact with this creature for the time being; I must be content to observe until I have formulated an appropriate course of action.

Out with the Old...

My original body didn't last much longer. As ghoulish as it appears, it is crucial I keep these remains safe. There is no telling what may have transpired on Takis during my sojourn; I may need to clone myself a new body from these cells. I have instructed the remaining symbiotes to place the corpse into cryostasis; being buried underneath a tomb in the fashion of humans will not harm this process, and indeed may provide useful protection against the elements.

Meanwhile Sophie is struggling with her duties. She has become a Department Head, but her influence on the education system is far from what is required. We need an educated populace in order for my subtly introduced technological advances to be accepted, and she will need to be calling all of the shots for this - as wide ranging as possible. Her mental deterioration is already evident; as her "son" I am encouraging her to throw herself into physical exercise to provide as much resistance as possible - if she is able to keep passing the military's medical examinations she may be permitted to postpone her retirement for long enough, provided she can fight off dementia and keep working.

The First Jump

I felt the radiated environment beginning to overwhelm me. The hopelessness I had fought so hard to quell was rising.

This was not unexpected. Ennui is a common side effect of being low on symbiotes. The time had merely come for me to prepare for the transfer.

The body I was preparing to leave had to restrained, however, to prevent any unfortunate accidents. I made my way to the cage I'd prepared, and then the change came.

It was a little early. My new host was not quite ready.

It was a strange sensation - caught between two bodies, not fully in control of either. I hoped it would be of limited duration.

It may have been hours. It seemed like years - trapped in what the humans would doubtless call Limbo. But eventually I felt the call of my symbiotes like a gravity well, pulling my consciousness home into Fortunato's body.

Troublesome hormones these humans are afflicted with. Especially as adolescents. But nothing my superior willpower and body chemistry cannot control.

The process is imperfect. With my own kind, I would be whole in a new cloned body. But this is of course not merely not a clone, but not even purely Takisian. And so I have lost much of my gross and fine motor skills - my memories are clear, but my knowledge is more remembered than understood. It is unfortunate but tolerable; what is lost can be regained. Perhaps even improved. I must remember to maintain the fiction that I am Tachyon's son, even to Sophie. They would not understand. I have read their fiction - they would call me a body snatcher, a demon.

They may be right. I do what I must.

More Good Fortune

My host body is constructed:

We have called him Fortunato. He appears to have inherited human skin colouring. This is acceptable and probably for the best. While I cannot currently take his body as host - my symbiotes will take several years to properly map his neural pathways for my consciousness - it is useful that he will have an easier time blending than my current body does.

We have of course replaced the cot that was stolen. Sophie has received an offer to join a local school; while there are benefits to a large family, she is still reasonably young and could quite feasibly make a useful contribution to the shambles of the education system. I can take whatever time off work I desire - none would dare gainsay it - so I can care for Fortunato in all but the most obvious biological requirements. It seems worthwhile for her to pursue this opportunity as it may not arise again.

Hope Resurrected

I am a master thief.

In the depth of night, I crept into a general's office and planted evidence that he had stolen from another, more pliable officer. When discovered, he was executed - these humans have little tolerance for such behaviour. I presented certain evidence to the new general, and faced with my obvious skills he agreed to allow me a marriage licence. Indeed, marriage licences are being granted to many couples.

The mob's power is lessened. While they still demand protection money, they no longer enforce their crippling labour requirements. The humans are not forced to work for whoever offers them employment, and they can leave if they wish to. I have planted enough blackmail material to ensure that this situation will endure.

There was no real gain to be had in further delay. I invited Sophie over and we exchanged the traditional tokens.

And as I had suspected, our genes were compatible. Her pregnancy was difficult, not the least because of certain factional issues caused by my rivals.

I do not know who authorised the burglary. It was slickly done; we were asleep at the time, and he made off with a crib we had purchased for our expected child and some of my electronics - the stereo being the only one that I'm sure they could understand. It was obviously a message, and I resolved to find out who was behind this; they will discover I am not to be trifled with.

But if I am honest, I am fine with the situation. Just a few short years ago even the criminal element could barely be bothered to pick pockets. Now they are bold enough to sneak into a master thief's house while he is sleeping and steal bulky objects.

Hope has returned. If the price of hope is an easily replaced child's cot, it is a price I am willing to pay. I will punish those responsible of course, but only to keep up appearances.

The Economy of Carbon

I managed to acquire a small carbon crystal embedded in a circular piece of gold. The gold I can understand, but I do not really comprehend the human's obsession with peculiarly shaped carbon; they themselves still possess the technology to manufacture these "diamonds" on demand.

But the tradition, in choosing one's mate, is to offer said mate such a rock. Sophie Mander, from Boot Camp, was pleased to accept mine.

I am not overly thrilled with the genetic defect in her eyesight, but she has many fine qualities that make that acceptable. She will be a fine mother for my next host.

Of course, the military are adamant that no marriages can occur - resources are stretched too thin, the labour force is too fragile, and so forth. I must convince them otherwise. A world without hope is a world where I can never be rescued, and at night my desire to be back amongst Takisians is so acute that I often awake in a cold sweat, weeping for my lost home.

May it take a thousand years, I will yet walk upon you, my beloved planet.

Building A Better Criminal

I rose in the ranks of the mob. My charisma held me in good stead, and there were those who felt I should be groomed to take a position of power in the organisation.

But that was not my path.

I became a safe cracker. The locks used by these humans are pitiful, but I discovered that my own sense of touch is far more sensitive than what humans put up with, which will stand me in good stead. Though I have had to pay off the mob, the protection racket is well within my means. I spend little. Since moving in, I have added a stereo to use for my exercises, and a typewriter that I have yet to experiment with. I am saving for a chess set, since mental exercise is also important.

Most humans are pessimistic about the hopes for survival, but I cannot wallow in misery. I have managed to hack into the phone system; two months of the year I am able to communicate with whomever I wish. I have attempted to raise Baby but she either unable to respond, or no longer around. Instead I talk to some female friends from Boot Camp. My seduction technique was never particularly successful even with my own species, and the body language is all wrong with humans; nevertheless, I believe I am getting the hang of their primitive mating rituals, and I am confident that at least one of my friends will prove a worthy mate.

Thinking Outside The Box

I secured as much of a library as I could before leaving Boot Camp - especially a series of books aimed at very young readers. My symbiotes will only work on a human that has entered adolescence, and I would rather that I inherit a mind that was as functional as possible. I also traded some of my plant samples - alas I do not see much hope for my continuing any gardening outside of Boot Camp - for an electric car that looked to be older than I was.

This left me with precious few funds to outfit the tiny bunker the military had assigned me:

This is no place to raise a family, even one I intend to dominate with symbiosis. It seems unlikely I can earn the funds I need to acquire essential items honestly. The military presented my resume to three employers; I could have worked in a school, or to get consumer goods marketed. But the employer that I have been assigned to fits my requirements; they are, to put it bluntly, a criminal organisation. The military tolerate them because they are able to acquire unusual items. This fits my requirements also. I have a car, and that apparently makes me a getaway driver; I shall have to hope my astrogation skills help me to quickly learn to pilot this primitive vehicle. In the meantime I have been using a spherical device filled with lead shot to improve my musculature and coordination abilities - I believe the humans call it a "kicky bag". I must perfect my body as well as my mind in order to develop my symbiotes properly.

Mating rights must be earned. The military have flat out refused to permit me to even call over any of my female friends unless they submit to invasive population control mechanisms. I have been informed that only "important" individuals are permitted offspring.

We shall see how important I can become. These primitives think they have seen much. A sophisticated culture brought down by war. A terrible biological pathogen inflicted by terrorists. Bio engineered diseases that have mutated out of control in the worst way imagined by their creators.

But they have not seen a Takisian focussed on a goal. Let humanity beware.

The Death of Hope

It was of course trivial for me to pass their exams. The subject of business is not my strong suit, but I worked hard to get a perfect GPA. In my spare time, I used the best of their primitive tools to experiment with anything that might have helped - biological samples to help heal Baby, mineral samples to construct a working FTL communicator, or even seemingly unrelated research in a desperate effort to raise the technological level of these primitives to the point where they could be of assistance.

But it was to no avail. By now, if Baby were still alive and receiving my radio messages, she would have found a way to respond. And I estimated it would take several centuries before these humans discovered the material science needed to produce the exotic elements I needed for a working FTL communicator.

The situation seemed hopeless. I am a space captain; I have spent the majority of my life travelling the stars. This planet will be my tomb. Already my cells have begun to degenerate; I will be lucky to live a scant few more decades due to the massive damage the corrupted environment has inflicted. Used to living centuries, I must now adapt to a human lifespan.

But I do have one more trick. My genetic enhancements include the ability to exude parasitic symbiotes - an emergency measure originally intended to allow Takisians to transfer their consciousness temporarily to another Takisian for extraction into a blank clone body later. I have experimented covertly to see if human physiology is similar enough for it to work there; my results are inconclusive. The parasites spread rapidly - far more so than in a Takisian host - but they are unable to breach the blood/brain barrier due to genetic markers.

However, any hypothetical offspring of a Takisian and a human would be a suitable host for my symbiotes. Indeed, if my tests are correct, they should even allow my own consciousness to override that of the host. The process will be incomplete and imprecise - I will keep my memories, but not specialised knowledge until a proper Takisian medical facility can extract the parasites into one of my frozen clone bodies on Takis. But it will suffice. I will have the time I need to rescue myself, for no help is coming.

Boot Camp

I have established more information about what occurred. It seems that there were two major world powers here - the "Nerds" and the "Jocks" - and that the Nerds released some sort of neurotoxin that they had developed an antidote for. The "Jocks" responded with an all out nuclear attack, with the innocent faction the "Rebels" caught in the crossfire. This proved disastrous; the Nerds had no immunity against the mutations that the neurotoxin developed in the presence of massive gamma radiation, and the Jocks superior physical conditioning merely made them even more vulnerable to the chemical and biological agents that the "Rebels" released on both sides - a pox, I believe, in essence. On both of their enemies.

There is some speculation, however, that many members of all three factions escaped somewhere. I have not been able to establish the details yet. I do know that civilisation is on the brink, and that all three factions now work together if not harmoniously, then at least effectively. Resources are extremely scarce. Here is my dormitory at Boot Camp:

As you can see other than a board game specially treated to resist the elements, it is essentially just an awning. There are 4 levels below ground; here is the next level:

I have claimed the bedroom in this level and used a simple electronic locking device that the humans are unable to break. It is my last, however.

These humans are much stronger than my own race - or at least they would be normally. It is clear that they are used to being able to move heavy objects around on their own; only the muscular degeneration they have suffered prevents them from doing this now. I must be careful not to anger them. Similarly, I must try to fit in; I have discovered that I am able to eat their food, but I dare not prepare any myself lest I accidentally poison someone.

I have been identified as a promising Business student; my obvious skills in science and astrogation are meaningless to these primitives, and I must effectively relearn what I know so as not to expose my origins. During my first two terms here I gained access to their science facilities but they are far too primitive for my needs. I remain hopeful that Baby remains alive, but I have tentatively began interpersonal communications with a few female humans in case some form of generational ship is eventually required to escape. The thought of cheating on my wife on Takis fills me with horror, but I am sure she will understand, though there are days that I despair of ever seeing her again.

A Routine Investigation...

My name is ...

Let me start again. You wouldn't be able to pronounce it with only one tongue and no innate autotuning vocal chords anyway.

I am a visitor from Takis. A short while ago, as time is measured in space, we noticed that a small world orbiting a G-class yellow star had been targeted by aliens. Specifically, a uniquely engineered specimen derived from the species Hamsterus Giganticus was sent to this world. There is only one known species that uses Hamsterus in such a fashion - we do not speak their name here, as their spy network is even more extensive than we had originally imagined... but I get ahead of myself. Suffice it to say, the world was targeted, and my people dispatched a probe to observe.

We have dispatched many such probes in the past. Sadly this ... empire ... is somewhat aggressive and have targeted many worlds. Most worlds, even if eventually able to eliminate Hamsterus, are so devastated by the conflict that they are unable to resist further intrusions. Many worlds are entirely pacified by Hamsterus, leaving no signs of native life at all.

This world, however, was different. This world had apparently managed to rebuild a technologically sophisticated society on the ashes of the old, and even demonstrated limited knowledge of zero point energy manipulation that is beyond Takisian understanding; crudely put, they had limited "magical" capabilities. As our own world's defences against Hamsterus, while deemed sufficient, were nonetheless demonstrably inferior to what these "Sims" had developed, it was decided to send a small scout ship to make peaceful contact with the Sims with the intention of opening up technological and cultural exchange.

I was the captain of the ship, Baby, especially grown for this mission. Her tachyon FTL drive was one of the fastest we had ever observed, and she was eager and willing to perform the mission we had for her. My crew were chosen from the finest diplomats, scientists, and artists our highly advanced civilisation had to offer. We had great expectations for the mission.

We were less tight lipped than perhaps we should have been. Our enemies learned of our mission - we do not know how. I should say, I do not know how - as you will see. The vast distances between our worlds meant that even with Baby's FTL drive it would still take perhaps a century to reach the Sim's world, and so the crew were rostered in cold sleep.

It was about a week ago that my turn to watch and make whatever course corrections were needed arrived. I woke to find Baby screaming in pain, my crew missing - presumably spaced - and the FTL drive hopelessly damaged beyond repair. But though the situation was dire, my initial reaction was still of cautious optimism. The star charts we possessed showed a nearby M-class world with a highly technological society. I managed to treat enough of Baby's wounds and one last push from the FTL drive to crash land on this world, peopled by beings not greatly dissimilar to Takisians in form and even genetically similar enough to produce viable offspring.

But it became immediately apparent our charts were out of date. Baby was targeted by surface to space missiles upon emergence from warp, and in her weakened state could not evade or jam the devices. I managed to eject in an escape pod and watched my faithful ship die.

I landed in a world that had obviously recently been the subject of some form of catastrophe. Military thugs took me into custody and performed various experiments on me, but I managed to convince them that I was merely a mutant - my skin colour and genetic aberrations a result of the radioactive decay that my escape pods Geiger counter had suggested was dangerously high, but theoretically survivable. Given my age and my obvious intelligence they immediately drafted me into the efforts to restore their society; I was assigned a plot of land near a contaminated body of water, and sent to their boot camp university - the last of its kind.

When they found me I was upset, crying about how long it would take to get home without my tachyon drive. This is what they called me - Tachyon - and they called the kick start program the "Wild Cards". So I shall call myself Tachyon Wildcard, as these "humans" do. It is my fervent hope that I can construct some sort of FTL communication device to beam this journal to Takis, or failing this, that Baby remains alive, in orbit, and able to receive the radio communications I am already able to send. With luck, this journal will be short, and my return journey swift.