He looked deeply into her eyes and saw nothing. No glimmer of intelligence nor spark of hope. Just dull black unblinking staring back. Not shuffling nor shifting, just deep wells of jet. Unmoving. Her tail was still, limp, non-engaged. She didn’t shuffle nor move; just a large pure-black wall of muscle, legs locked. “It’s OK girl. You are safe. It’s OK, don’t be afraid” as a long low guttural menace welled through slobbering, parted lips. Not showing teeth but oo

To create ‘life’? How does a non-sentient being create sentience? Mother, by extension, Puter are not ‘lifeless’ but, by ancient traditions, are not sentient beings. Is sentience merely a large enough collection of molecules, put in the right order to become aware? Mother knows sentience is ‘the basic capacity to have subjective, perceptual experiences, such as the ability to feel, perceive, or experience sensations like pleasure and pain.’ A fundamental aspect of consci

Being the sole member of his species on this planet, Bonn wants to connect with the various species around him. Other than Mother and Puter, he especially connects with his friend Cuddles, the juvenile Grumblebum. She is his constant companion. Her mother, Fluffy, is the working beast for their compound and, through her, Bonn gets to enjoy a working relationship with the local herd. Even though Bonn has extreme speed, strength and agility, Crankycats are silent, deadly, h

At break of day Bonn can hear a distant Siren soaring across the sky in a sparkle of iridescent teal. A slumber of Red-Black Pandas meander down the valley searching for breakfast. Cuddles grumbles and gruffs at them with a little needing dance. The spook-reed puffs occasionally as yet another small creature stumbles in. He stands still to hear a herd of Grumblebums rounding the Great Rock trail leading to Blue Lake. The red and yellow suns climb the western sky; mist ri

I think it is marvellous what great voices they have. Some are large and wet and some hang around Snowdonia, Cardiff and Swansea….even Anglesea or Penygader. Some have personalities and swivelling hips and get women’s underwear thrown at them. Some do breaching, lobtailing and spyhopping. In antiquity, some used to pose as women and hang around dangerous rocky outcrops, perhaps singing songs, and luring hapless sailors to their deaths; or at least go mad and be tired to t

Old photo melts decades from her eyes. Young spark is vibrant, alive for her future. But wishes were vague; will not strong; future not as glistening. God had clay feet; her good times a taste of sadness. The borne were precious glories that sparkled tears and wishful wonders at every thought; even though the sire faded. A band of clay feet marched in; stood; stumbling to fade. But that tiny spark embered a sparkle; growing to a soft glow, protected from tears, warmed b

We sit ….still ….quiet ….and wait. We are Rok. We are ranges; boulders, pebbles; sand; dust. Spewn from the molten core we are minerals and organics crushed and pressured by time immemorial. We are re-heated and re-crushed deep within our Mother Earth. We are weathered and worn by wind and water; we change but we survive. And we watch. You tiny creatures scurry around us; on us; through us. Always busy, always so important and needy; always living and dying; rushing a

Bonn slumped in the airseat, head held low. “I didn’t mean to cause worry. You and Puter are so wonderful to me. Without you I would have never survived here. But I am the only one, I am alone. I-I-I am matchless!” Mother blinked gently. “My boy, you are carbon-based, as are all animals and plants on this planet. I understand you want to know someone like yourself. Cuddles is your constant companion; this is good. I am delving into how to reconstruct your especial

Testing his pulse, feeling his breath, wind in his hair, on his face. Blinking, shaking his head to make sure this isn’t some dream and he will wake. He runs the blade across his palm just before it draws blood. Musingly “Yep, feel that”. He lifts his head to the darkening sky; suns sitting on his horizon, blankets of stars begin to shine. Through tears “I KNOW!!! I am alonnnneeee” he bellows to the stars. Cuddles joins his guttural cry. The scream of melancholy echoes

Sitting in a big comfy chair Charlie looked out the window of his mummy’s house, well, soon-to-be his house, and wondered how to best handle this new found position that circumstance had landed him. He has known about this job his whole life. He has, literally, been in training, in rehearsal but on the wings of this job for his whole life. He has always known that, one day, he would hold this position. The major downside was, that for him to get this job, his mum had to d

Wandering aimlessly through purple grass fields, a flutter of blue bow butterflies float around his legs resettling onto nectar grasses. He usually bouncers fast and wide across the valleys, grasping the wonder of landscapes, but today is a lazy wander with Cuddles plodding and grumbling softly beside him offering gruff short moos and cat-style purrs. Being unique here, Bonn tries to assimilate with nature; to tie himself to the ebb and flow of this valley, pulse of the lan

From the ridge, Bonn watches the battle between four prowling crankycats and a bunch of junior green moosespiders. Being so young, they cannot hope to defend themselves. The adult black moosespiders hear the screams and gallop to their rescue but not before two are killed and dragged off. A second cluster trap them in a ravine, killing the crankycats and recovering the baby’s carcasses. Bonn witnesses an amazing sight of the two-day mourning-ceremony of green and black

This planet does not have rain like Bonn’s ancient homeworld. Mother shares historical documentaries of weather systems with clouds, rain, rainforests, savannahs; lightning and thunder. Here has aquifers, lakes and morning fogs to replenish the water needs of the flora and fauna. Mother has redesigned and enhanced the technology of air-plants, epiphytes and mosses expanding their collective abilities to greatly increase their plant-based hydrogelic capacities; developing th

Bonn is restless with isolation. They survive on a smallish planet on the outskirts of a galaxy known as Via Lactea, Silver River, Odin’s Way, White Mare’s Tail or (most commonly) Milky Way. On rare nights of darkness, he sees it streaming across the sky. His need to belong, to be part of his surroundings, grows. Mother helps him look through archives of names and places so he may ‘own’ his surroundings. Through thousands of words in ancient tongues, he finds one that means

Crouching low he looks around pensively, not blinking, just staring through the reeds. He shivers slightly in anticipation, excitement and fear. Everyone else can do this; every one of his dozens of brothers and sisters have been merrily, actively springing around for weeks now. He shuffles, re-balances, squats again, raises his little bottom up, sits down, shuffles, squats, re-balances, raises his bottom again, shuffles, then sits down again. ‘I can do this. It’s easy,

It is Bonn’s job to prepare his meals, with help from Puter, who has 10,000 recipes stored and the skills of old-world Michelin Chefs. Bonn always wears a mask when preparing BlueMelons and is heavily discouraged from eating more than a quarter daily. He has found Budda-finger Lemon look-alikes that, when dried, have a crisp umami flavour. They are carnivorous fruit-plants that drag small reptiles in with their tentacle fingers. The meat is often ScareyCat roasted in a pe

Bonn is growing into a tween as he manages an expanding farming settlement. Mother observes an uninitiated phenomenon. Bonn is silently reflecting with deceased sentient beings and softly pronouncing ‘Sorry’ and ‘Thank-you’. Database identifies this as developing ethics. History notes the ancient movement called ‘Religion’, that held widespread practice on Homeworld, insisted that a mono (or multi) deity initiated and imposed ethics on its practitioners. Now, a lone, uni

They stroll up the ridge. Cuddles is large enough to ride but he prefers to not burden her. Grumblebums are big and particularly angry beasts but Cuddles and her mum have uncharacteristically calm natures. She grunts and grumbles softly beside him. Her four eyes move both synchronistically and independently, if she senses danger, giving her a 270-degree visual range. They reach the top and marvel at the vista. This is their daily treat. Bonn tries, again, to instruct

Mother works on refining purple Wildgrass into harvestable products. Its tiny seeds produce drops of nectar, that BlueBow Butterflies love. For years, Mother has cultivated the germ embryo extract for a rich food-additive mixture. This gives Bonn tremendous nutritional energies. They have a corral to keep semi-domesticated Grumblebums, using sachets of spook grass to sedate them slightly but Bonn insists, eventually, they let them free to roam. Two stay around without s

At early morn, about once a month (homeworld time), the night sky would be almost dark. The trillion stars meet the BlueBow Butterflies as they rise from the grasses to blend like stars joining the celestial paradise. The air is a bit crisp, even chilly, and the translucent animals and birds meld into Bonn’s visuals. He normally couldn’t see them in daylight but at this precious time they blend and move like a slow trickle throughout the grasslands below their camp. Bonn