Amun programs the building of Tayamni Station
Amun awakened the next morning with Eudosia snuggled close against him. She slept deeply, her head resting on his arm. He looked down at her sleeping body, seeing curved shapes and shadows cast onto her breast by a sconce on the opposite wall. He knew from his studies his new body would begin to feel sexual attraction towards females. He appreciated the beauty of organic shapes, especially of smooth, curving fullness. But this was only a precursor of what would come. Advanced to an age of 30 years, his new body was not developed, not fully matured. Not all physical systems awakened.
His mother chose his characteristics. As specified, he developed interests in geology, architecture, and spirituality. He was a creature of pure energy, lattices of light and radiation, but created to inhabit a physical body. He knew this from the beginning. Prepared and made for this purpose, he was like all Tayamni, created to fulfill a role. His mother, assuming the position of Matriarch for the mission, chose these qualities specifically.
He sensed a shadow fall across his face. Opening his eyes, he saw his mother fully dressed, standing above him.
She smiled and shook her head. “I told her you weren’t ready,” she laughed.
He moved his arm, allowing Eudosia’s head to gently fall to the pillow. “I woke up and she was here beside me,” he added.
“Incorrigible,” his mother stated. She turned facing the open doorway, “Get dressed, my son. We must begin construction today.”
He moved down to the foot of the bed. Eudosia still slept.
His mother pointed to the pale young woman sleeping on the cot. “She drank too much fermented liquid.”
“I think she wanted to celebrate our arrival,” Amun added.
“She wanted to celebrate your arrival,” his mother smirked.
“I programmed the structure and loaded the bots,” Amun said, referring to the robots that would actually build Tayamni Station.
“How long will it take?” she asked.
“It depends on the site,” he responded, reaching up to take a wad of gray fabric into his hand. He stood tall, muscular and naked, beside the bed. His mother walked into the other room.
He placed the wad of fabric against his solar plexus, and it began to unravel. Adhering to his skin, threads and shards of fabric spread across his body, until he was completely covered. He sat down on the bed, and pulled boots onto his feet. Beside them, he retrieved elbow and shoulder pads, applying them to the suit.
“Are you leaving me so soon?” he heard Eudosia speak from behind him.
Before he could respond, his mother entered the room, “You need to get up. We have to find a site.”
“You’re no fun,” Eudosia responded, sitting up. “What good is it to have a physical body if we can’t…”
The Matriarch interrupted her, “Have you chosen a site?”
Eudosia sighed, reaching over to another wad of blue fabric that would become her environmental suit. “Of course,” she responded. “What do you think I’ve been doing here for the last 20,000 years?”
The Matriarch rolled her eyes. “Is there a colony of candidates?”
Amun watched Eudosia’s body as the softness of her hips and breasts moved against the tightly wound fabric of her suit. He was entranced by the her body moved as the suit stretched across her. He felt a tightness at his groin and looked down with surprise.
She saw him, “I think his body is waking up,” Eudosia laughed.
Amun blushed, realizing he had been staring at her. He turned and walked into the other room.
“Yes,” Eudosia responded wearily. “There is a colony, but they are spread out. I would call them an extended family.”
“Have you chosen a name for them,” the Matriarch asked.
“Humans,” Eudosia responded.
“Bedrock is close to the surface. Are the beams anchored?” Eudosia asked.
“Into basalt, yes. Cooled lava,” Amun responded.
“There is an underground stream. We need to channel it to the flat surface up there,” the Matriarch pointed above them. “Water will cascade down. Plants and trees will hide the station,” she continued.
“What about the settlement?” Amun asked.
“Not yet, dearest,” his mother answered. “A less advanced structure, near where the river bends, one of clay bricks. You can use it to teach humans to build,” she added.
“What will we use it for?” he asked.
“We will live there, Amun,” his mother, the Matriarch responded. “The settlement will rise around it, naturally, organically. We will also need a market, a place for humans to find food. They will want to live near it. They can learn trade.”
Amun smiled at the two women, impressed at the amount of planning they had done. “When will others arrive?” he asked, referring to Tayamni who would come to help operate the mission.
“All in good time,” his mother answered. “Let’s get these structures built first.”
“What about defenses?” Eudosia asked.
“Defenses?” the Matriarch responded.
“Wild animals, meat eaters. We need defenses against them,” she answered.
The Matriarch could tell she wanted to say more, but hesitated. She looked at Eudosia patiently, waiting.
“Not all humans are gentle, loving creatures,” Eudosia finally blurted out, looking at Amun.
Amun tilted his head, questioningly.
“On outings, I have found murdered ones,” she sighed, looking at The Matriarch.
“But, that’s against their nature.” the Matriarch responded, remembering the primary reason they chose these candidates, their loving natures, their natural inclination to share.
“Apparently not. The ones I found were murdered with tools used to kill prey,” Eudosia added. Without thinking she sent images. They saw a stream dividing a thin grouping of trees. Humans lay on the ground and over rocks, some lay in the stream itself, family units, males, females and children. Most had head wounds, the throats of others were cut. All were dead.
Eudosia continued, “Food was scarce. The land was dryer than normal.”
Amun brought his hand up, covering his eyes, as if to shield himself from the vision.
“Eudosia!” the Matriarch said sharply. “This is too much for him.”
He looked at his mother with wide eyes. Then, looking towards Eudosia, he asked, “Was it a matter of survival?”
Eudosia nodded, adding, “They saw it that way.”
Unmoved by the Matriarch’s urge to use caution, she continued, “Scarcity spurs migrations, which we need. It inspires technological innovation.”
“And murder,” Amun interrupted, looking up at her.
“Yes,” Eudosia added, looking at the structure taking form above them. “And murder.”
The Matriarch walked to her son, placing her hand on his shoulder. Then, she turned back to Eudosia. “We will need to splice more frequently than planned,” she stated, referring to the length of time between splicing Tayamni DNA into human candidates.
“Agreed,” Eudosia said.
Amun stood there, his mouth agape, seemingly focused on a weed sprouting from under a rock. The images of dead humans seared into his memory. Removed from birthing chambers less than a year ago, he had been protected. His mother planned to introduce him to the savagery of candidate species, but slowly.
Finally, he looked back at the square of light hovering above his left hand. He had been programming bots to divert the stream of water.
“When do we build the clay structure?” he asked, wanting to change the subject.
The Matriarch looked above her, watching hovering bots bend metal rods connected to curving beams. “After more Tayamni arrive,” she stated flatly.
She looked at Eudosia, “Send a request,” she continued. “Tell them to send 30 with military skills, immediately.” She looked back up at the bots floating around the structure.