Collapse of Colduvai: Part Three

(reading time: 1 hour, 26 minutes)

Continued in Part Four

Banished to the Basement

Commander Begumisa returned to the grass-comber at the very edge of the order she’d given Genomon. Just five minutes more and they would’ve returned without her, assuming her death. She came back with her hound stick and no physical clues to Laetoli’s fate. The whole of the expeditionary force watched her slow walk across the barrens. When she got to the grass she sat on the edge of the comber without a word, simply snapping her fingers until someone gave her a canteen. She took two large swigs and then poured a third over the back of her hung head. Eventually they could not wait any longer. Continue reading

Collapse of Colduvai: Part Two

(reading time: 1 hour, 24 minutes)

Omen of Laetoli

Seventy men and women in brown uniforms moved across the grasslands, now far outside Colduvai. No warfare had been seen in decades, so the military style of the clothing was only cosmetic. The fabric was soft and breathable; it was easy to fold back a sleeve or a leg and turn it into something more casual. Colduvai hadn’t required a shaved head for the Peace Authority in generations, so most of them couldn’t wear the small hats that came with the uniform, instead using them to gather nuts from any trees the grass-comber passed. Continue reading

Collapse of Colduvai: Part One

(blurb)

As time plodded along the artifices of man crumbled, leaving only one city.  Colduvai, still standing in a region of Africa near human genesis, survives because of the might and devastating beauty of Queen Magthwi.  She stands as the center of the world.

Something lurks, not daring to show its face to her, but it eats at her kingdom nonetheless.  Citizens are disappearing, or worse, giving up, even dying from the anxiety of sitting in their own homes.

The queendom resists, but it does not appear they can hold out against the mysterious scourge.  The diplomatic envoy doesn’t return.  The zookeeper goes mad and unleashes his flock.  A traitorous girl dabbles in the royal fluids, engineered by generations long past, and seeks a throne of her own.  Still the queen stands and does her best to cradle a thrashing people until the end.

(reading time: 1 hour, 7 minutes) (reading time for entire novel: 10 hours, 30 minutes)

Collapse of Colduvai

By

Blaine Arcade

Gorge

The greatest mistake life ever made was convincing itself that only parts of the Earth were home. It grew bodies that could only swim, crawl, or fly. Already the error was made, the Earth split into the three kingdoms of land, sea, and air. Life had missed Earth as medium, as separate only from the empty cold of space.

Life further divided itself. Species. Predator. Prey. Parasite. With or without spine. Counting the chambers of a heart was the genesis of wealth. Humanity was the culmination of this error, as watched by the nutcracker man. They were beings of heat and anxiety that deemed their own planet inhospitable, putting themselves in boxes, in towns, in regions, in countries, and on continents. Of all that space and material only their individually-assigned box was home; it was the only place they could be truly comfortable. All the world a beach and only one grain of sand to hold peace of mind. Of course it slipped away, gone one day from under their bare feet. It was just one grain, but without it they sank.

The nutcracker man was there from the beginning, but only briefly in life. He watched most of it as a skull. He saw the downfall from behind a pane of glass. They would come and look at him, speculate as to his misery and intelligence, and be glad they weren’t him any longer. Continue reading

Captain Rob Sinks: Finale

(reading time: 2 hours, 6 minutes)

Balanced Aych

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The Aych Fauce and Sea Fauce would’ve been considered deities themselves if Porce didn’t already have such stiff competition amongst its religions. For all recorded time they had poured, their flow never weakening. Third Sink would’ve long overflowed if the Snyre drain wasn’t open.

Their waters held their temperature long after leaving their home. Waters of the Aych stayed just shy of a boil, making them incredibly useful for heating ships and homes in winter times. Waters of the Sea were just shy of ice, useful for preserving food and bathing under the harshest light of the florent. Harvesting it was simple enough, as all a ship or sinkside settlement had to do was lower a bucket into the edges of the Fauce’s influence, where its intensity was only a short distance from tepid safety. Continue reading

Captain Rob Sinks: Part Eight

(reading time: 1 hour, 28 minutes)

Cloistered Cloader

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Seven days passed from Rob’s bargain with Fixadilaran Bocculum. He continued his lessons with Ciamuse, but each time his mind drifted further from her lectures. He saw himself crossing the city, the river, and the bone powder dunes to arrive at the doorstep of Cloader of theft.

His plans had always had confidants. He could whisper to Teal. Discuss strategy with his grandfather and Oddball. Order Roary to guard the plans. Count on Alast to overhear. Execute with Dawn at his side, flattering him with exact mimicry of his bonepicking maneuvers. Now his schemes were all alone and lorded over by the soulless gel of a prosite. The plans were on the tip of the pirate’s tongue, and they scalded it with nowhere to go. He wanted nothing more than to speak with Vyra; she would appreciate it. Alas, Clix did not allow them to be alone together. The tilefolk was back to smiles and manners, but any time Rob approached her he found a hairy hand on his arm, pulling him away to a chore or conversation. Continue reading

Captain Rob Sinks: Part Seven

(reading time: 1 hour, 26 minutes)

Tales of the Living Sixteen: Ciamuse
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The first thing she had to get used to was privacy stalls. Her tragedy had taken her behind First Stone Door and atop First Toil, to the expanse beyond First Seat and under First Tank. She was in the shadow of Lunginvess and the toil’s lever. The folk in the town there valued their privacy above all else and looked to the stall around them in their architecture.

Every chamber pot and relief hole, no matter how remote, had its own privacy stall. Every bed was surrounded by one as well, whether its walls were wood, stone, topa, or cloth. When Wympona Dotsettr found lodging and employment there she was given a room to share with six other women, most of them barely more than girls. She was twelve rests herself (Blaine’s Note: thirty-three), but was just as shy and uneducated as the rest of them. Continue reading

Captain Rob Sinks: Part Six

(reading time: 1 hour, 9 minutes)

The Swap

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Red raw hands, some with spots of black frostbite, rose toward the sky in exultation. The starved men and women of the Greedy Old Mop flooded out of the smelly yellow caverns of the Winchar Straits and into the melt crater Ice Master Shuckr had predicted.

They spread out under the florent and frolicked like rabards in heat, jumping about and slipping onto their tailbones. The crater was massive, nearly a valley unto itself, and had a very round shape. Metallic trees and shrubs dotted the sides, a few even bearing rainfairies. Walls of ice, only occasionally stained with rings of the yellow flammable compounds, curved and rose on all sides. At its center there was a blue lake: a pocket of isolated sea that likely connected to the rest of the Snyre by a few narrow tunnels. Continue reading

Captain Rob Sinks: Part Five

(reading time: 1 hour, 18 minutes)

Graves of the First

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Dinner in Infinicilia occurred at the same time each night, just before Fwa Nippr cloaked herself in a thick black robe to dim the light. The other eight members of the living sixteen arrived right on time to help prepare the meal. Rob was introduced to them all, but they didn’t add much to his evaluations. Argnaught was extraordinary. Vyra was aggressive and unpredictable. Clix fancied himself in charge. Fwa was the florent. Ciamuse was a beloved nutter. Continue reading

Captain Rob Sinks: Part Four

(reading time: 1 hour, 30 minutes)

The Living Sixteen
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The marsh of gore beneath the Fith did not go on forever. The Fith only showed in patches in the Pipes, the rest of the ceiling composed of bedrock or rounded rusted metal. After two drops of walking Vyra leapt up onto a stone plateau with bonepicking. Rob followed.

Private privies!” he exclaimed at the sight of it: a city constructed like no other he had ever seen. The buildings moved, the layered circles of their construction shifting back and forth like seaweed in a gentle current. Many had walls of perfect crystal clear as glass that sang along with the motion. The towers were taller than he could see and occasionally coupled with each other. Yet despite the constant activity of the stone, the place was abandoned. Continue reading

Captain Rob Sinks: Part Three

(reading time: 54 minutes)

The Pipes

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There was a time in Porce where the tiles, toils, and sinks were not the height of civilization. Before the Age of Building, before the Age of Tragedy, things lived within the walls and pipes of Porce, feeding on moisture and lighting their way by thought. Modern tales spoke of the Pipes as the underworld: a pit of damp suffering where evil souls and bodies were stored for all eternity, denied the mercy of complete rot. Those who believed in the eight gods and those of the Toil Papers both believed this. They were only partly right. Continue reading