This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.
The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/Fearadhach on 2025-06-30 06:20:40+00:00.
Julia sat and listened. She wanted to stop and think about everything Everimal had to say, but feared to stop the torrent of words for fear he’d become reluctant to continue. A quick glance at her parents showed expressions which spoke of similar concerns.
Everimal , lost in his narrative, didn’t seem to notice. “My ancestors did the only thing they could do: They started rebuilding again, this time with a will and this time – once again – trying to memorize the knowledge rather than just write it done. Much was lost, of course, but they retained The Edicts, and our own version of the scientific method: The key to rebuilding knowledge. They were so busy, at first, that it took them decades to realize the night sky had changed again; mellinias had passed while they slept.
“This cycle repeated many times: Our civilization spent a couple of generations building itself up, only to find itself reset. Eventually they learned the cycle, and did what they could to prepare. They knew the number of years they had between Long Sleeps. It varied a little, of course, but was fairly constant. So, as each Long Sleep began to loom on the horizon, they had the young memorize whatever knowledge had been retained and accumulated.
“Much was lost to all of this, of course, especially that first time, but they pushed forward. Then, after a number of cycles – the same number as the patterns you showed me would bring the Old Machines back to ‘gardening’ this section of the galaxy – The cycle stopped. My ancestors prepared for a Long Sleep and a Purging, but it did not come. They…”
Evermal stopped and shook his head. “Well, I think you can fill in the blanks from that point. The important thing to note is that the Edicts handed down are known only to the King and a few of his closest advisors, and are followed to the letter.”
Silence descended as everyone tried to digest all of this information, and consider what it meant in the context of everything else they knew.
Julia felt like the pieces of a puzzle had begun to chase each other around in her brain, circling as if in a whirlwind. Every time she reached out to grab one and attach it to another, a third came by and knocked them out of her grasp. A look around the room showed faces which seemed to have similar struggles.
At length she sighed, and grasped for a single straw. “Ok, maybe we need to talk all of this out, see if we draw some conclusions from what we know and test them against reality – or at least against words spoken aloud instead of vague thoughts echoing in our minds.
“So, lets start with one obvious possible conclusion, and see if we can make anything of it: The Old Machines call themselves ‘Gardeners’, and it is somewhat obvious that we – the sapient species that evolve from the seeds they sow – are the crops. So, conjecture: they are trying to breed for some specifc trait. What trait might that be?
“The idea my mind keeps coming back to is that the Old Machines went to great lengths to preserve your species, and the Roranar… two deathworlder types who proved quite willing to wage war and dominate.”
Mom cocked her head. “There is that, but there is a detail in there: They actively gentled the Roranar, creating class 0 worlds and altering their genetics… but did little besides setting the Pinigra back to the stone age.”
Evermal chimed in. “I would almost say that they are trying to create a warrior species of some sort, but the Roranar were far more warlike than we were, at least according to The Histories. And, the Old Machines' penchant to raise up species like the Gorfal or refuse to preserve species which destroy themselves makes me think they are looking for something else.”
Dad finally chimed in. “Maybe it is for more than one thing…”
Julia sat back and had to suppress a smile. She loved exploratory sessions like this, ideas flying fast and furious as everyone tried to work together to find knowledge. They debated well into the evening, and some of their ideas seemed quite outlandish, but they found themselves circling back to even the wildest of theories. At last they began to wind down, more from a realization that they had begun to tread the same ground over and over than from a sense of tiredness. Julia felt a great sadness as she departed the Roost, for she knew her parents planned to leave to a place of danger in the morning.
End Chapter 11
The first Pile of Shorts eBook is delayed. Life has this way of being, well, life. It is edit complete, though, and should be out soon, though. Stay Tuned!