S1E9 - Into the Wanderers' Library - Episode 9 - From Voice, Sight, and Mind

I really should have waited until I was a bit more awake. That's what I get for falling asleep at my desk. Well, I say at my desk. I'm actually on the wall there in the corner. Just in the corner where the wall and the ceiling are. It's pretty cushy, but I've got an excerpt I can read, so I might as well record this now on Mostly Cognizant. That's not an invitation for you to distract me. There. Behave yourself. Right. Apologies to mans if you have to. If you're the one editing this. Of course, dear, because. Stop. Right. Okay, okay. Hello everyone and welcome once again to into the Wanderers Library with Professor Artyom Harkin. Today we are looking at something from the Wanderer's depths. Something called the twelfth of a Ta by Achlis Achilles. Achlis. We'll go with Achilles. And once more the digital trans. Oh, there's no translations for this actually. That's a pity. Anyway, let's get comfy Now. If you take the time to pay attention to various vendors of little trinkets along shores, something may catch your eye. Lustrous shells with inked patterns and perhaps even embossed. The pedlar might exist their genuine ink ivory caught in nearby shores and will ask for an obscenely high price. If you go into one of the Nexus dens. Among the clay tablets of Apalydon. Apalydon. That's not a Padleon. A Padleon. I've been there. I think. Yep, yep. Sorry. You don't have to keep poking me if I get distracted. This is why I record alone. Yes, I know. It's because I didn't have any other option cut off. Bye bye. If you go in one of the Nexus's dens. Oh, there's a footnote here, called by most the Library. Among the clay tablets of Apadlion and the carvings of Mica or Mica, somewhere in the bottom drawer you will find something similar to ink ivory, but much greater in size. Most would overlook it, mistaking it for some decoration. I don't doubt that you would see the fractal patterns of history inlaid there and that you'd understand why it's earned its place there. Those are the relics of seabed critters. They are. There are uncountable colonies of ink crabs which are rife near settled shores of shipwrecks. I had the luck of seeing some living colonies. They feed on culture, on the history and traditions in the sw. In the small customs of those who inhabit the land. While the colonies that survive today swarm chaotically, like Perry herself. Perry. Peyer. Peyer. Peyer, yeah. There we go. While the colonies that survive today swarm chaotically like Peyer herself, the remains that enfold the seabed with dentine or dentine stay proof to the countless generations before them. I apologize. I'm a little bit shakier with this. The. This bit of prose is handwritten, and sometimes handwriting is a little harder for me to read compared to normal writing prose. Give me one moment. That's my thought. Good boy. You know exactly what you're doing. Where was I? A few weeks after I met Kylix, she introduced me to a wonderful individual. Grandpa Claus. Now, there are two footnotes here. Kylix is a lovely Knide folk I came to know during my sales. And Grandpa Claus, the footnote by that. Kylix enjoys giving nicknames to most of the people she meets, often to their dismay, she took care of him since she found him. Still recording? Yeah, he's still recording. That's good. She found him buried in some rubble while looking for bluebells. Despite his timeless appearance, I found that he is only a few centuries old. He is of odd circumstance. He got forsaken by his colony in some forsaken place, but didn't die from the lack of civilization. In the first years, he found this strange as well. Then his shell began to emboss itself. Not with any of the. Not with any of. Of. Not with any of. Of the dull patterns hundreds of young crabs often got before maturity. Yes, there are two of's written there. Don't ask me why, but sweet and enchanting geometries, full of dance and laughter. After a few decades, the abstract shapes started to entwine, turning a shell into a canvas. Ink. Crabs, I've been told, never see the M. Landlubbers. Most of them. This is. This is a lecture I don't need. Okay, if you don't do the puppy dog eyes, then fine. In crabs, I've been told, never see the M. Landlubbers. Most of them live in that blurry boundary between sentience and sapience, only beginning to understand their own nature at about a dozen decades. But almost none live so long. From what I've seen, the empty shells at the sea bottom are only a few inches wide, with a sad little pattern. Of course, many of them in one place would make a great depiction of the changing eons. But never a little alone. However, Claus was familiar with the settlement that nurtured him. I was lucky, he said to me while recounting the intricate seismic calendar. My people are gifted. They had an amazing system for predicting earthquakes. And for the first time since I came in this world, no mention of gods. The system had its faults, but it never failed in predicting a dangerous earthquake. They found me while I was still crawling in the crevices. The embossments on a shell, despite being as smooth as any other crabbed shell, had something strange about them. I thought that was it. When I saw the sharp metal in their hands. It was somewhat reminiscent of screaming Grimshaw. But then I was still young. I still didn't know a knife from a chisel. Menteo was a flourishing metropolis. They knew the waters and the stones. It wasn't enough though. Perhaps if they knew of the ways the Nexus, their scholars were the best in a thousand miles. But in a thousand miles that was not other village or city. A few years ago the city was shaking. And I think the people crying desperately for something to save them from the slight inconvenience of a false prediction. A single digit missed after the radix point was enough. I hope I'll go back then. Kyle Extreme gently took me aside and chided me for bringing the caverns up. When I asked why, she told me that Mentia won't be anytime soon. There, you happy? Look, there's having an admiration for a specific voice of mine. And then there's having a bordering. That's what I thought. Give me a second, I need to finish this. That was the 12th of ATA. Excuse me? That was the 12th of ATA. Pardon the different octaves. I'm trialing different voices for reading. Don't poke me. Don't. Stop it. So thank you once again for tuning into another episode of into the Wanderer's Library. I'm not sure which one we'll be doing next, but I expect to be something just as enchanting and just as entertaining as this curious excerpt of written prose from a world I've not yet ventured in. Mind you, if it's aquatic, mostly aquatic in nature, then I doubt I'd have any real. Yeah, yeah. I can't imagine ever going to an ocean world again on account of, you know, being an arachnid. Arachnids and spiders historically do not get on well. Have you ever seen an arachnid swim? No. No, the hot tub didn't count. I was human. Is okay. I was a spider for a bit of it. But you. No, no, you're not recounting that memory. Not when there's a microphone right there. Down boy. Down. I'M so sorry, Meline dear. You're going to have to cut out so much other Right. Thank you once again for listening to this latest lecture from into the Wanderers Library. This has been into the Wanderers Library once again with Professor Artyom Harkin. I. I'm gonna turn in now. Yes, this was a shorter segment, but it is by your metrics. Six in the morning. Six in the morning for UK time, maybe. So I'm gonna turn in and catch up on some Z's, as it were. But thank you for listening and I shall see you next time. Bye bye for now. You My room.