Human Memory Art Logs: Sporty Sporkutrucks of Xrophenium
Half-truck, half-spork beings idle around a tire fire listening to a game of Axle Sporkling, the ®Sport of Xrophenium.
“Spork that axle!” One honks at the Talk Box.
“Traffic Jam ref! Open yer headlights!” Another beeps.
One grinds their tires into the dirt, does a wheelie, slips, accelerates, and rams into a tree.
The tree trunk breaks, and falls on the tire fire.
Burning tires are knocked into the gas-soaked beings, killing two, injuring others, and toppling the Talk Box from its elevated position.
“Traffic Jam it, 69schmevrolet!” An injured spork truck creature moans.
69schemvrolet maneuvers the Talk Box onto their spork, hoists it into the air, and dumps it somewhere high.
The group debates the quality of the angle from which the sound radiates from theTalking Box.
“Spork that axle!” One honks.
Their honking ceases only when they collectively detect incoming human memory art.
They hear… Khala My Friend by Amanaz and Mountains Crave by Anna von Hausswolff playing at the same time.
Their minds see…
The overnight security guard for the parking garage of a major company sitting in their booth.
It’s 3:16 in the morning when a black vehicle bearing official government plates pulls up.
A man in a suit rolls down the driver’s window.
“Hello,” he says as he extends his arm and flips open a small leather case, “I’m with the FBI. We’ve received a report about one of your foreign-descended researchers and need access to this facility immediately.”
The security guard looks at the badge housed within the leather case in front of their face.
The man in the car flips the case closed, retracts his arm, and restates, “I need access immediately.”
The security guard hesitates.
The man asks, “Is there a problem?”
The security guard responds, “What’s a problem?”
They disengage their minds from the memory waves and listen to the Talk Box.
“Spork that axle!” One honks.
The human Aesthetic Acquisition Drone gathering data from orbit notes the rules of Axle Sporkling.
- Human Memory Art, 2039 C.E.
- Aesthetic Data Gathering Patrol, 7,554,129 C.E
Se’ms Chapter Two.Two
Our group monitors an Aesthetic Acquisition Drone as it monitors us.
It Logs:
Ten yellow-scaled beings engaged in disruptive practices.
The Experienced guiding us.
Our present threat.
Our Experienced stands on the burgundy rug.
A honey-colored hand containing nine fingers webbed below the second knuckle emerges from a fold in an emerald robe.
The palm turns up in front of the Experiencer’s face.
Their smooth skin is composed of interlocking half-moon scales.
The two round eyes on the face are violet, and blink together.
A half open lapis eye in the center of the forehead acts independently.
The lapis eye opens fully, then rolls inward, filling the socket with a brilliant scarlet.
A thin bone connected to the back of the neck expands, and stretches layers of fat into a dorsal fin.
The Air in the palm crackles.
A red spark blooms above the open hand.
The spark expands.
The smile of the Experiencer dances in their Fire’s reflection.
Their other hand helps expand the Fire.
They leave the circle, and their Fire continues to expand.
When their arms spread wide, the flame takes shape.
It becomes a clone of the Experiencer.
Together, they pirouette and leap around the rolling lilac meadow.
The group cheers.
The Experienced ceases dancing and turns their palms upwards.
Their Fire circles above Our heads, then morphs into a long, thin body.
It grows arms and legs twice as thick as its body, along with a fan-shaped tail.
One of us shouts, “A Volmundi!”
“Excellent!” Our Experienced replies.
The Fire forms a large X in the air, then grows enormous wings from each appendage.
“Easy, a Fleckap!” one yells.
“Of course! Last one!” Our Experienced responds.
The Fire shifts again, growing into a narrow body with two short arms, two legs, and a round head.
Our group is silent and looks puzzled.
One of us says, in a muted voice, “Human…”
“Indeed. And with that, Se hope Se have direct access to Se’ms pain. Mind Se’ms distance from the forest.”
Our group stands, and leaves the burgundy rug.
We enter the lilac grass.
A few of us are able to produce sparks, and two, to the cheers of those nearby, manage to evoke a true flame.
Our mood is Laughing, Loving, and Learning.
A loud bark and growl cuts through Our sounds.
Our evocations cease, and we turn towards the forest.
Our Experienced evokes a Fire that whirls in a spiral above Our heads.
The lambent light illuminates the boughs of the trees.
At the base of a tree, one of us is bleeding..
One of us is standing resolutely still, dripping alabaster blood down the exposed marigold skin of Our arms and legs.
Before us stalks a large purple and black striped creature with three gnashing heads, nine legs with three protruding claws, and twelve tails splitting into three hooks dripping a liquid that foams wherever it splashes on the grass.
The creature paces back and forth.
One of us trembles, attempting to concentrate.
The three heads snap closer to Our body.
Some of us ready assistance.
Our Experienced objects, “No!”
One of us collapses, exhausted.
The creature tackles Our body.
Three massive jaws rip into Our throat.
The rest of us Feel a wave of knowledge.
The rest of us are imbued with the thoughts and memories of the creature’s meal, now being dragged deeper into the forest.
One of us, the one who’d identified the human figure, cries out and sparks a large blaze with outstretched hands.
Some of their Fire soars towards the creature.
Their remaining Fire settles over one of Our hands.
The Fire following the creature is intercepted by a wall of Water.
These flames are extinguished.
The Fire that settled over one of Our hands causes two of us to scream.
Another jet of Water douses this as well.
One of Our hands is singed.
Inside Our minds, a voice says, “No, Se do not use Se’ms Feelings for violence.”
The one of us who produced the Fire and ruxxed all over their hands uses their voice to roar back, “Why do Se doom Se! Why do Se let this happen when You could’ve stopped it!”
A number of us gasp at the word “You.”
Our Experienced waits for silence, then motions to the rug.
The Aesthetic Acquisition Drone logs our activities.
Modern Issue 