@d-pend — |Well, I do enjoy literature as well as my central driving passion — glorious science — so, I suppose I shall give it a try. My daily meanders through the fields of Hyen have lent me much solace, joy, and wonder, and that is another motivating factor in my desire to convey the experiences — which often assume for me the tenor of a mystical epiphany. In any case, none but myself shall ever read this journal, so there is little chance of embarrassing myself. I cannot lose, you see! Of course, I should be quite chagrined should Yeæon or Basiliuœus or Toyn or even and especially Rælla get ahold of my private mynd-tablet. They should never cease to mock me, I — the studious scientist-mage, fancying myself an author! Well, it is an absurd worry. This is my private journal and none would dare invade.
The expanse of bramble, brush, flower and sky stretches forth its seafoam hand. "Come, explore my bounty — under the photonic nurturance of Vek's Triple Suns! I am grown effulgent with their affections; wonders glisten within each secret alcove, ready for the adventurer brave enough to harvest them." Why, yes — I should like nothing more than to join you this Day, unseen Spirit Goddess of the Hyen Highlands, lovely lime-pink Hyen-na, rejoins my child-mynd — and I quash it not. The labors of the morning are gone, done, concluded — vaporized into a cool mist, all those wayward worries — the perspirant cloud floats up and away towards the infinite space of the far-flung Nohonic Realms to become whatever laborious ice-diamond-web it must in the frigid vacuum of Xhonglu's cyclonic rays. How distant seem such trifles in the comforting arms of Hyen'na!
Foot after foot, padding through the delicious smells of growing things — I banish shadows away. All disgusting manner of nebulous monstrosity are gleefully massacred by the laser-spear of my o'erwhelming optimism as I skip over lightly-worn track of my own previous making. Cute rodents with bubbly appearance seem to phase in and out of existence as they chitter with weird delight, shy with freedom. What is more — a thousand berries are bursting with the flavors of ancient passions. I accept them as they jostle across my legs, my shoulders, my pink-orange skull grown glossy. The ripe bounty of summer dissolves into love poems upon my silent tongue. The fruit of Hyen is as crystal manna — surging with the magic of the seven na'an, nourishing my unseen centers. Insects in strange formations morph their way around all obstacles, urgent with happy buzz of life.
What is that rustle about my anklet-line? A warm breath of summer is upon my chest while at my back breathes the cool front from some fantastical mountainous region lost in the blurred horizon. Why, that scratch-jangle is a plumpfytic youth, born this quarter-xod from its hermaphroditic nexus. How its mechanical chassis beams with glory as it plasma-feeds the weird pink blooms of Hyen! Ah — it has seen me. How that singular sapphire eye gleams with the innocence and joy of life — albeit a life half biological, half mechanical. I am become lulled into a languid speculation by the sights and sounds of Hyen — her harmonious clamour as celestial bells and song. What happiness and swell of pride felt the scientist-mage who first conceived such a race of robotic gardeners and sparked its existence upon this hallowed plain? Ages stretch out and swallow themselves between the gaps of the speaking mynds who create on great Vek — alas, that I cannot interview the great geniuses long gone!
Now the robo-youth glides away anti-gravitically with silver-sparkle of plasma and my mynd coalesces into superdense explosivity. The suns are high — sublime trifecta of balance and power — they ignite the fuse of my thought! As a pyrotechnical display my intellect bursts into green and gold and fractal cerulean tinged with magenta — an ecstatic Idea insinuates its perfect body into the bosom of my mynd. I shall craft myself a golden gardener to cooperate with these plumpfytes. Oh! How my sentinel of chrome and rose and copper-shine shall brighten still the glory of Hyen'na's perfect light!
Its chassis shall be of copper alloyed with Vaern Rose Heartgold and its looming skull shall curve backwards into a point as did the mythical Yœyin's of old. Its breastplate shall be arrayed all with the powerful gems of each na'an, and its spine shall be of doubly-helixed laser-fibre held in a nohonic vacuum. Yes, I see it now in my floral kaleidescope-mynd. It shall be torso only as legs would only hinder its perpetual levitation. It shall compile every living thing with fire-opal sensors and be as the technologic servant of Great Hyen'na — its only wish to make Her Beauty even greater through its stewardship. Oh, and this intricate masterpiece does sprout and surge in Mynd. Twine, O ivy of bismuth — O coil of clorophyll! How it grows as I step, stumble, stepping still in happy-humming haze: through the plasmic fields of Hyen as I shall do all of my days!
NOTE BY SCRIBE Tum Ti’illigree — this concludes journal entry 1.1.5.7 by the late genius Stuomorfæm Grioliok who perished tragically (mauled and eaten by a deranged kybbok in his beloved Fields of Hyen) Though my journalistic code typically prevents me from publishing material desired to be private by the author, this is a special case — as friends, family and colleagues of Stuomorfæm wish his writings to be made available in order to pay homage to him and to provide a more complete understanding of the exceptionally rare psyche which gave birth to the Golden Sentinels of Hyen.
Original writing and images
by Daniel Pendergraft
— created for HIVE —
published on Dec. 8, 2021.
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Writing is fully original
and can be considered a first draft/blueprint
towards eventual completion of a piece
shared and preserved immutably on blockchain.
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Images are generated with Wombo Dream,
scaled up, and further processed using Deep Dream Generator,
then finished using Final Cut Pro for editing/combination.