Mandragora: Calyx Receptory

As fog swaths the circular valley, cerulean plumes of gas billow upward along its steep cliff perimeter. Through round blue windows of illuminated log huts, a dim glow eases into the empty coble crescents. Feerluong, the Siamese street cat prowls in the humid night. A scurrying mouse sustains a puncture wound from a glinting claw. A quaint fully scribed hut dims from within. Tears glide along the soft skin of a babies twisted face. The frantic mouse vanishes into the calm shadows. Feerluong is left chagrined until the raw umber hut is lit once more.

Inside the flowing log on log looking hut, in a square room rife with colorful toys, a chubby baby cries while his tall father looks on, ruminating the reason. His apricot skinned wife swaddles the baby’s cold body in an algorithm patterned midnight blue blanket. His father strokes himself on his broad jaw that widens at the bottom. The muscles beneath his protruding cheekbone bulge out of his sunken cheeks as he masticates on loosh. He turns to his bistre haired wife.

“Will he survive the night”?

Her lips tighten revealing dimples.

“It feels true.”

“The Pleiadians are due in the morning. The perimeter has been gassed shut until their arrival.”

Her oval face wrinkles.

“Who’s heading the campaign?”

“Caviol.”

“Caviol is restless with protocol!”

“He will have to do, but if anything should go wrong in the Tuatha De Denann Passage…”

“The Dannu passage is strictly prohibited.”

“Yes.”

Enki stops crying and turns to face the circular blue stained glass window. With slight of hand his mother massages his fathers hand and they embrace. She quietly weeps and he gently pushes her to arms length.

“He will survive… When he is in alignment with the constellation of his reawakening, the energy of our creed will be compatible with his body.”

“I love him.”

“He shares a quality with mind, he’s selfless, but consciousness will corrupt him soon.”

“His stars are perfected, we must not worry.”

He lets go of her.

“There is truth here.”

She whispers before sauntering to the myrtle gelatin surface at the other end of the room. She lies down to sleep while he dims the light. Feerluong meows in protest and retreats, as another mouse eludes his glinting claws.

. . .

Lids peel off of bulges on opposite sides of a non curve-linear arched ceiling. Enki's carnation womb refrains from hugging his child body and deflates.

“Home?”

Enki mutters as the soft chartreuse yellow light fades in from two ten by six feet long glowing oval shaped bulbs. A lime green callous skinned broad shouldered borlith towers over Enki. He is seven feet tall with chiseled features and a broad jaw with sunken cheeks. Only Slerng’s eyes move before throwing his guttural voice.

“How was your first slumber in the Calyx Receptory?”

“I feel great, where we going today?”

Wheezing, his belly tucks inward.

“We’ll finish your tour, with a visit, to the park.”

“Are you smiling?”

“No”

There is a cycle of squelches and the atmosphere changes from 1 load and 2 stick to 4 load and 5 stick. Enki breathes out.

“My ears feel silly Slerng”

The chartreuse tissued walls ruffle. Purple pipes that have branched throughout the walls throb slowly, accompanied by diminuendo moaning.

“Slerng…”

“Calm… ruffling walls is ground tissue system, throbbing pipe is vascular tissue system, that sound is tissue breathing. See. Now look at atmosphere gauge”

“Ok.”

With a wheeze, the stone-faced borlith breathes in slow and deep. His dark lime green lips purse and stretch out.

“When you sleep load and stick rest at 1, the lowest. 10 would be highest.”

The chartreuse ground tissue system ceases to ruffle and decides to undulate. The purple vascular tissue systems throbbing wanes before falling still.

“What’s that whooshing sound in the ceiling?”

“See triangular orifices on far ends of each bulb.”

“Ok.”

“They circulate air. On side nearest to entry stale air is sucked out and on side nearest to us fresh air gushes in.”

Without warning there is a swallowing din. Slerng, stresses his vowels and speaks slowly.

“Behind you.”

The womb gradually revolves shut. Slerng waddles over to the tender nectar orifice. His withdrawn pride sets him apart from other borliths.

“This orifice takes nectar that’s secreted by ground tissue system and vaporizes it. You can choose from different scents. Redolence is important for remaining stimulated and happy.”

“What’s redolence mean and how do I use it?”

“Touch nectar socket and announce what smell you want.”

“I want a sweet smell!”

A thick spray seeps out and Enki catches a whiff.

“It’s sweet like home.”

Slerng gently grabs Enkis skinny arm.

“This is your home now. When you smell this you are home.”

“Forever?”

“Yes! Now…see those cubbies? Press on one.”

He let’s go of Enki. The cubbies move smoothly across his fingers. His eyebrows furrow as the cubby covering opens.

“It feels bizarro!”

Slerng asserts social protocol.

“Get dressed. I placed your food on dining surface.”

Slerng stands and lowers his head to rest. After a few failed attempts, he shuts his beady eyes. Enki opens the entry and leaves the introvert for the extravert. On the table there are strings of juicy Mangosteen flesh, slices of old Mural mushrooms, and balls of pungent Durian. He finishes it off with citrus water before calling to Slerng.

“I’ve gulped it all down!”

Enki becomes discouraged when Slerng doesn’t answer.

“Slerng, I’m finished.”

Enki returns to the introvert.

“You’re lazy!”

Slerng raises his heavy head and after a few attempts opens his eyes. He glances at Enki before entering the extravert. Despite being annoyed Enki trails behind. Slerng raises his heavy arm and pushes the gooey entry socket. Excited by the loud sloppy sucking sound, the entry slides away into a groove in the lime green mucous filled frame. They enter into a non-curvilinear triangular heliotrope hallway. The tissue ripples along the walls far into the distance. Enki is mesmerized as more follow at a constant rate. He is overwhelmed at the bizarreness of his new home. It’s livid and enchanting. His body awareness splits. Slerng insists that Enki stays in the proper lane.

“Refrain, there is median.”

“My head is thumping.”

Slerng reassures him that his new surroundings however peculiar will become home.

“You will adjust to the stick and load.”

Enki stumbles before regaining a semblance of balance and Slerng continues his discourse on the Calyx environment.

“Hallways are medians between chambers, of all types. They are for walking… walking only.”

Enki looks down by his feet and spots a one-foot wide convex median that stretches all along. He stumbles and comes close to bumping into someone. On the floor, he looks up bashfully and is met with silent glower of a momentarily transfixed Receptorian. Enki shilly-shallys and Slerng makes headway. Another ripple in the tissued wall passes over Enki and he immediately set’s about catching up.

“Why’s everyone skin orange?”

Without hesitation Slerng elucidates Receptorian tradition.

“It’s the mark of a Receptorian.”

“Why is your skin green than?”

“Our skin is too thick to stain.”

Enki keeps an eye on a couple that enters a concave recess in the downward slanted side of the hallway. The ripples pass over the recesses and lime green entries that are spaced out all along the way. He enters the following recess and plonks down on a squashy settle. Slerng catches Enkis attention.

“Come, this entry to conduit.”

Slerng raises his hefty arm and presses the squishy entry socket. To a sloppy suction sound the entry is cajoled into the groove of the inflamed frame. They enter a chartreuse ground tissue system domed node chamber. Node chambers are plain and mostly bare. Sinuous purple vascular tissue system pipes converge with purple bonds that are scattered within the porous walls. There is a curvature outgrowth on their left with a sizable peephole leading to an inner cavity. A pair of square pupil, lime pulp eyes eclipse the peephole. Enki places his hand in the goopy identification socket. The borlith in the booth orders Enki to proceed. They approach large parallel purple vascular tissue system tubular conduits. They fold from a seamed outgrowth in the floor to an ingrowth in the wall. Slightly beneath an opening in the fold of the conduit, an entry cleft of a ferry seed peels. The entry cleft curls open and Enki enters, followed by Slerng. The pearl white pit is ovular and has a dodecahedron on top. A display terminal for external viewing partitions the anterior. Enki’s curiosity is impulsive.

“Is that what it looks like outside?”

“That’s what inside of conduit looks like.”

“Are we going to go fast?”

Bubbles of chartreuse chlorophyll obscure distance. Emerald green cilia that cover the conduit wall, wave onward in unison.

“We’re rising higher and higher with air pockets. Seeds have thin outer layer called exocarp. Beneath is thick mesocarp. Beneath that, protecting solid endosperm pit… Where we are is within thin endocarp encasing.

“The conduit structure extends throughout each globule and is analogous of three cylindrical crosses. The y-axis of the first is also the pole. The second and third are rotated forty-five degrees on the x- and z-axis, in opposite directions from the first. Each axis extends to the interior globule wall and forms a node chamber. Each cross has longitude and latitude intersecting each node chamber. Conduits conjoin with hallways and receptacles.

“Seeds use two manners of movement. One is caused within chlorophyll by tendency of hotter hence less dense material to rise and colder, denser material to sink under influence of gravity, which consequently results in heat transfer. Two is being pushed by thin, tail-like projections called cilia. They extend out of the inside walls of conduits. Motile cilia constantly beat in one single direction.”

Enki avidly absorbs what he can.

“I’ve seen cilia elsewhere.”

“Another species of cilia, grows in patches in chambers for elegance and monitoring.”

Enki is pulled off his settle as the ferry seed decelerates. A space devoid of cilia approaches. Air pockets on the display terminal go off and the ferry seed comes to a halt. The entry cleft opens and they disembark. They enter a receptacle, which is a non-curvilinear octahedron shaped room with a convex ceiling and flat floor.

“I’m hungry.”

Slergn startles Enki by grabbing his shoulder tightly.

“Listen! This is a receptacle.”

There are three ceiling bulbs and a row of air orifices in-between each. There is a strong air flux and it feels refreshing across Enki's youthful face. The receptacles are junctures of Conduits, Pedicles and hallways. Slergn breathes in slow and deep. His dark lime green lips purse and stretch out.

“Pedicles are like conduits only much stronger and larger. They are made of dermal tissue system, same as outer wall of every globule.”

“What’s beyond the outer layer?”

Slerng ignores Enkis question and passes by raised concave outgrowth booths in the sidewalls of the receptacle. There is an open strip along the breadth of the wall of the hollow booth. The dodecahedron is below this opening in the raised booth. On the left there is a hollow bulbous growth appended to the outgrowth. Wheezing, Slerng's belly tucks inward.

“Inside is for borliths only.”

The bulbous growth has a sizable peephole for the tall borliths to pear out of.

“Receptacles are where borlith guard have their headquarters for each globule. Floor level booth is where borliths manage trafficking of people into ferry seeds. We keep eyes on bureaucratic matters so things run smoothly.”

“Bizarro.”

By a peephole, Enki submerges his hand into a permeable identification socket, that’s tepid within. He withdraws his hand and makes for the four parallel purple dermal tissue system tubular pedicles that fold from a seamed outgrowth in the floor to an ingrowth in the wall.

“Board for Central Globule, Echelon 2.”

A fibrous ferry seed waits for them in a pedicle on the right. Enki approaches and an entry cleft peels open. He climbs down smooth steps into the endosperm pit. Once inside he searches out the source of glow that illuminates the pearl white interior. The load is heavy and the stick thick. Slerng catches up hobbling and wheezing.

“Slerng where’s the glow come from?”

“Light diffuses through endosperm and bounces back from endocarp.”

“Are all guards borliths?”

“The Nath have decided.”

“Who are the Nath?”

“Nath control entire Calyx Receptory and reside within Ivory Globule.”

“What do they look like?”

Enki is tugged back in his settle as the ferry seed surges forth through seething chartreuse chlorophyll. Past emerald green cilium layered pedicle, that pass the ferry seed forth. Enki becomes anxious in the confines of the rising seed.

“How long is it?”

Slerng is tired and not concerned with reassuring Enki.

“Not long.”

“No, how much time until we’re there?”

“Not long.”

Borliths sleeping habits are such that they only sleep during five short naps a day. Slerng yawns and lowers his head. After a few failed attempts he shuts his eyes for a nap.

. . .

Enki’s soft hand reaches into the lime green membranous entry socket. The entry eases into the narrow ridge of the bulging frame. They enter and immediately Enki is stifled because of a decrease in the load and stick.

“My ears don’t like this tour.”

They enter into a chartreuse tissued vestibule. Slerng stops at the booth situated on the left. Within a hollow convex outgrowth in the wall Slerng is addressed by a lofty borlith with a series of drawn out chortles and throaty barks.

“Is that borlith?”

"Enki press your hand on this identification socket. When you feel gel plate your hand will be scanned.”

“Ok.”

Enki sinks his hand and it is enveloped by moist tissue. There is swooshing as he pulls it out. The lofty borlith looks away and Slerng waddles onward. The end of the far side opens to a park and on the right side of the vestibule there is a margin in the wall where a slender staircase curves out of sight. They pass under the low ceiling of the far side of the vestibule and Slerng’s head nearly scrapes the top. They leave the familiar ground tissue system vestibule for the spacious park. Trunks of Mangosteen trees jut out from lush underbrush and drooping fronds. Their boughs are closely set and their eye-catching amaranth flowers convey foreign beauty. There are tropical evergreen trees that reach toward the effluence of overhead bulbs. The load is thick and the stick damp. The vegetation flutters to the rhythm of the fragrant orifice impelled breeze. Enkis thick brown hair rumples over his soft skinned face.

“Park is inside chamber that has 500 feet by 500 feet area.”

Only the green ceiling sheds light on the scale of the place. Enki and Slerng tread the dirt path that maneuvers between dangling star fruit and splayed ferns. Enki bumps a looming stem and he is dumped on with pollen. He sneezes and Slerng stands still. Just beyond patches of flowing cilia, they turn right at a fork in the path.

“I want to sit?”

Slerng lowers his head as Enki flops upon a row of settles.

“What’s that?”

Enki picks himself up and is disquieted by a sight never before seen by his adolescent eyes. A four feet long and two and a half feet high chartreuse yellow slug slides while its body torsions round a couple of squashes that slip out of plant stalks. The slime slugs use two pairs of tentacles to sense their environment. Their larger upper eyestalks detect light and movement. They rise and erect as Enki approaches. He stops in his tracks and the second lower pair of tentacles detects pheromones. They retract in response to Enki’s fright. A slug drops from a tall branch on string of slime and inflates Enki with terror. He bursts out in tears and runs behind Slerng’s broad back.

“Slugs won’t hurt you, they process cilia, fesses, dead plant material, and then recycle them into soil. When people are out to work they clean their chambers. They seem to have fondness for squash, and they spread seeds and spores when they eat. They’re slow because they have only one muscular foot.”

Enki’s fear subsides enough to pose a question.

“How do they clean?”

“Their slime lubricates terrain over which they move, so they can travel more easily. This lubrication cleans but makes it slippery. Scientists in the Ecology Globule successfully reproduce slug slime. It’s best natural glue.”

They proceed onwards along the consistent breadth of the path. Enki looks back fascinated by the giant slugs that move so strangely. His turquoise tinted iris’s glimmer as he strolls along the well-groomed path. Each breath he takes is cool refreshment. They continue on schedule and return to the vestibule entranceway.

“What’s upstairs?”

Slernge waddles towards the stairway with his usual hunch. They climb into a spacious chamber that, with the exception of the level floor, is octahedron in shape. Every side is curved inward toward seamed fuchsia yolk sacs. Between each ovular sac there is a two by two foot translucent display terminal.

“This is semblance yolk, you can enter permeable sacs and your senses will rewire to calyx mainframe in order to experience pre-made scenarios that inspire specific emotions. Choose… but beware, for every two pleasurable experiences you must have one painful.”

Enki approaches a display terminal beside a semblance yolk.

“Who keeps track of how many nice experiences I have?”

“The Calyx mainframe.”

The display terminal illuminates and a soft feminine voice proclaims the menu of emotions.

“Pleasurable emotions include: passion, compassion, mindfulness, awe and empathy. Painful emotions include: disillusionment, depression, anxiousness, fear, laziness and hatefulness. Neutral emotions include: reverence, pompousness, absent-mindedness, and frivolousness. Please choose one and enter.”

Before Enki can react Slergn chooses.

“Painful. Fear.”

“What! No! Slergn!”

Slergn picks Enki up by the armpits and pushes him through the viscous yolk of the semblance sac. The fuchsia liquid is too thick to maneuver. The tepid yolk gels and pushes his body to the back of the semblance sac where he bobs upward. His head submerges into a compartment of air just large enough for his head. The feminine voice recites the initial process with a reassuring tone.

“Please relax as neural peptides are introduced to your neural pathways. You will feel outside yourself as they bond. Please relax.”

The acrid yolk fades and becomes like air. His sight cannot focus and it blurs. Heliotrope dilutes fuchsia and his focus returns. He finds himself lying on a settle in a hallway. There are only a few other Receptorians but they retreat into entries. Bulbs that are spaced out along the ceiling dwindle. Ripples overhead swell and squelch. Enki attempts to retreat but the entries are locked.

“Where is everyone? Which one is mine? Slergn? Slerng!”

The squelching grows louder, to the point that it interrupts his thoughts and invites uneasiness. He stammers and his knees weaken. The ripples decelerate and bulge, creating sacs. One of them bursts and heliotrope pus discharges to the floor. The tear spreads across the ceiling and Enki dashes into a recess. Every subsequent ripple tears, releasing pus that floods with hallway. It gushes above his ankles. He panics and wades to an entry. He places his hand in a socket but there’s an absence of life.

“Let me out! Somebody!”

A soft, mellow paced and clearly articulated wondrous voice resounds.

“I apologize…”

Enki is uplifted and surprised.

“What?”

“The Nath engineer with chemical reactions. Sometimes I have no self control.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m right here. See…”

Enki turns around and sees a beautiful female figure. She’s tall with lustrous bistre silk hair that hangs just above her nicely curved waist. She’s dressed in a kaleidoscopic ivory dress. Her full face smiles subtly with compassion.

“Return now!”

Enki is confused because in her presence he feels safe and welcome.

“I want to stay!”

“Everything will be ok.”

“How can you say that? Where am I?”

The mysterious lady struggles to understand Enki’s queries.

“I’m here.”

The air becomes thick and feels like gelatin. Warmth blankets Enkis body. His eyes loose their focus and fuchsia evaporates into his irises. Something grabs him and he is pulled out of the semblance yolk sac.

. . .

They enter an antechamber and Slerng prattles a booth borlith. Enki places his hand into an identification socket and it is enveloped. He feels the gelatinous plate vibrating.

“It’s warm.”

His hand is released and the entry parts from the wall.

“Bexsive is waiting for you.”

“Ok.”

They enter through another set of entries into a vast dodecahedron chamber with a leveled floor. At the opposite end of the chamber there are steps that traverse the edge of the room. They lead up to a large t-shaped platform with a throne and two broad settles on either side, for 32nd degree Receptorians. They each have tightly fitting red hooded robes. In the center of the room is a straight-sided socle that rises directly from the floor. Four steps surmount it and in the center is an enormous pool of nitric acid. On either end of the room there are settles filled with a jury of bored Borliths. Enki looks up and watches the bulbs pouring their splendor. There are twelve step socles for twelve low rectangular platforms. Each platform has a hemispherical depression in its center that contain different viscous acids. Slerng notices that Enki is overwhelmed by the magnitude of the chamber.

“Smaller containers are for mixing. Large central container is where final product is concocted.”

“Bizarro!”

Slerng heaves his deep guttural voice.

“Go ahead!”

He stands still and bends his stubby neck allowing his head to rest on his broad chest. Enki climbs the steps to the top and there sitting on the non-curvilinear throne is the judge of the entire globule. Bexsive is a fat ten feet tall humanoid yellow slug chimera with misshapen limbs. It’s four tentacles erect and twitch, while it’s ovular mouth blushes. It looks at Enki from every angle and pauses. It shakes and rolls its solid black eyes back. Clear hairs are thinly dispersed over his smooth glistening skin that reminds Enki of a plump slug. Bexive opens his undersized shapely mouth to release his pivotal question.

“Enki. What changes when you’re fearful?”

“Where I look?”

Bexsive pauses and pulls his beady eyes back from above his lids. He overlooks the chamber pompously and proclaims with his low-pitched nasal oozing voice.

“Stimulation Globule!”

Enki walks back down the high stairway. A scientist is waiting by a pool of nitric acid to greet him.

“Remove your clothes please and step inside the vat, child.”

It seethes and burns. Enki’s mind is subdued by pain. It overrides his body and steals self-control. He cannot escape the excoriation. His skin begins to pull off of muscles. He opens his mouth to scream but is interrupted.

“Exit.”

Slerng picks his naked dripping body out of the pool of nitric acid. Enki’s skin is now yellow, like Bexive's incisive teeth. The skinny sunken-eyed scientist continues his instructions.

“Now step in the next vat please until I say!”

Enki wobbles into the next vat and he feels a cool sensation relieving irritation and sending the waves of heat away. The lanky scientist concludes the Receptorian baptism.

“Exit. Now.”

Bexive proclaims from his thrown high above.

“Make it known that, Enki, you are now a 16 degree receptorian of stimulation caste! You may increase your social status by living by the rules and dedication to your work.”

Slerng escorts Enki out of the Court chamber followed by a procession of the jury of Borlith. The 32 degree Receptorians remain in their settles at the top of the stairway talk amongst themselves.

“He will forget his home and before Calyx dies we will have deciphered his ability.”

“What if he realizes his ability before Calyx dies?”

Bexive squirms in his throne and slams his perspiring arm down.

“He won’t! Empathy for Calyx is in his brain.”

A violet robed Nath walks out from behind Bexives throne. His hood is larger then the others so that his face is covered in shadow. The robe extends to floor and he wears tight fitting violet gloves. The others nod at his arrival as he takes his place beside Bexives throne. He stands and listens patiently.

“Enki feels his potential, it’s an inevitability. He will turn this feeling into motivation to reach the 32nd degree. But he will go no further.”

Caviol intercedes with a calmness that contrasts.

“It is possible that Enki joins us knowingly. His thoughts are born within Calyx. Nothing will encourage discontentment for he is now born of an inexorably blissful womb.”

. . .

In the introvert of his chamber Enki climbs into a warm cozy womb. The bulbs dim and the womb compartment revolves closed, leaving him in darkness. Hugged by inflating slender tissue, he closes his tired lids.

. . .

From sidereal darkness a wondrous voice calls to Enki.

“Remember the Tuatha De Denann passage, there was intensity here that cannot be forgotten.”

Chubby saturated clouds barely rub against the summit of twin escarpments. As they hover along, pockets of bondi blue peer in. Deep below, a narrow ridge attests to its parting of the two sharply ascending granite inclines. Here in the Tuatha De Denann passage, at the bottom of the cut ridge, a convoy of Pleiadians trudge in single file. The convoy’s heavy footsteps are muffled by the strapping wind. Their clothes flap about, longing to sail above the stark crevasse. Caviol holds forth with his naïve underling.

“Do you know why off-worlders are superior?”

“Because we undergo hardship.”

Caviol betrays his righteousness.

“No you dolt, because we have perspective.”

“Why do we need Borliths then, to take…”

“Borliths are sluggards, they take comfort in following orders. Our superiors are cooped up in the plaedies and they can’t see things objectively. They are tied down by tradition.”

“Caviol, this part of the passage looks formidable.”

“Listen, we’re bringing Enki to the borliths, we’re bringing the borliths to a new colony.”

“What if his parents find out?”

“They will. It’s hidden where no one will find it.”

“What if people want to leave?”

“Every biological desire is gauged and given its due fix. Enki, like every new member of our colony, will be given an embryonic enzyme emitter. The embryo grows within the brain at a rate that will not hinder until 40 years of age. The enzyme is a catalyst for receptivity to the morphic field of the entire colony… It’s alive. This emitter creates a ubiquitous and unavoidable empathy complex within each colonist. Were a Receptorian to attack even the walls of the calyx they themselves would feel the pain. Everyones needs are met.”

“Why is Enki so important?”

Behemoth thunderbirds swoop across the ridge, sending whirlwinds surging from the tips of their enormous wings. Caviol is distracted by the fateful sight.

“Not now.”

Cool crisp gusts whirl tumultuously to the sound of thunder. The Pleiadians watch their breath and listen to the unearthly weeping wind. Grass grows sparsely upon a carpet of topsoil that is torn from outcrops of finely stratified sedimentary rock. On the windward side, areas of basalt bedrock unveil from erosion. Shale crumbles and flows. In a surge of unanimous panic the convoy run from the falling landslide.

“Landslide!”

One of them trips as the crumbling shale tumbles. Slices of creeping topsoil plummet toward the ridge basin. Loosened taup rocks bash several Pleiadians. The landslide accumulates at the bottom of the dipping crevasse and buries several of them. With battered bodies and torn flesh. The ones who don’t die from the impact suffocate slowly with only a couple spouts of dust to attest. Away from it all, a wondrous whispering voice intones reassuringly.

“This isn’t your path. You were conceived to escape.”

. . .

10 years later

Lids furl off bulges on opposite sides of the arched chartreuse ceiling. Glowing bulbs reveal themselves. Enki's carnation womb refrains from hugging his adult body and deflates. The womb spins open and he awakes.

“Is this home?”

Enki mutters as the soft chartreuse yellow light fades in from two ten by six feet long oval shaped bulbs. He breathes out into his livid introvert. The atmospheric changes from two load and one stick to five load and four stick. The porous walls discharge small amounts of puss. He steps out of the womb and stretches his arms. He moves to the nectar orifice and chooses a bitter scent to excite the senses. The ground tissue system walls ruffle. Pipes that branch throughout the walls throb slowly, accompanied by their diminuendo moaning. The chartreuse ground tissue system tautens before deciding to undulate. The purple vascular tissue system's throbbing wanes until it falls with tranquility. Whooshing resounds in the introvert. Without warning the walls make a swallowing din. Behind him the womb gradually revolves shut. He presses his fingers against a cubby and his eyebrows furrow as the its covering opens.

“Bizarre!”

Enki chooses a green garb and dresses himself. He egresses to the extravert and sits at the dining surface and eats the prepared meal, brought by a Borlith. There is a reddish, spongy and swollen squash. He peels off its flesh in ribbons. It tastes crunchy and watery with slight sweetness. He washes it down with citrus water and takes a ripe Mangosteen that’s reddish purple. The fragrant edible flesh is sweet, creamy and citric. He drinks his citrus water before finishing with a shiitake mushroom. It has a flower like cracking pattern and an earthy aroma. He retreats to the washing compartment and wipes his face before departing his chamber for work.

Enki enters into a non-curvilinear triangular heliotrope hallway. The skin ripples along, far into the distance. More follow at a constant rate and on the other side of the convex median he meets the gaze of a familiar Receptorian. He motions for her to join him in the opposite lane. They move into separate recesses and he sits down on a settle. She waits until the crowd wanes and crosses over the median to the other side. She strolls over with only a hint of her judging heart. Her eyes are calculating when she joins him in the recess.

“Flora, you look proper.”

She wrings her thin lips and addresses him.

“Any new breakthroughs at work? I mean colour creation, I heard the last one didn’t hold citrus…”

“Ok.”

She hesitates with an open mouth and still face before re-animating. Her gestures are poised and mindful.

“I’m 25th degree Receptorian as of yesterday. Are you still stuck at 16 degrees?”

Ripples continue to pass by in the tissued walls, on either slanted side. Enki keeps an eye on her sophisticated squint.

“I wouldn’t say stuck, I’m working under load with what I’ve been given. How’s your father?”

“Caviol is coated inside and out with his work as you are… You should come out to a gathering…”

Enki is quick to respond.

“Maybe, what’s Caviol up to lately?”

Flora betrays the subtleties of frigid disappointment.

“Ethylene...”

“Burn! I forgot something at home, forgive me…”

Enki returns to his chamber entrance. He presses the socket and the entry slides open. A mucous-coated chartreuse yellow slug slides with torsion across his slick floor. A thick coating of slime excretes around their bodies. The slime keeps the skin moist, so the slugs can breath through it. The slime cleans and lubricates the ground tissue system. It’s eyestalks tip back at spotting him. It’s lower tentacles shutter and retract at the overwhelming amount of pheromones that radiate from his body. The slugs are surprised, as they weren’t assigned to capture any Receptorians, who have more pheromones than anything else in the Calyx Receptory. Another one slips out of a heaving pore in the wall. Dropping into sight from above, another slug hits the floor riding on a string of slime. Enki’s heart jolts and his guts sink. A surge of fright widens his eyes. He slips on the lubricated floor and falls on his behind. He glares at the slugs.

“Sluggards!”

The slugs halt and their tentacles tip towards him to inspect. Enki gathers himself and the slugs revert to their meticulous duties. He snatches his bag from the dinning surface and splits. Enki returns to the hallway and walks through its long narrow confines until he reaches the appropriate entry point. He presses the squashy entry socket and to a sloppy suction sound, the entry is cajoled into the groove of the full frame. He enters a chartreuse domed node chamber. Sinuous purple vascular tissue system ducts converge with purple junctions that are scattered within the walls. There is a curvature outgrowth on the left with a sizable peephole leading to an inner cavity. A pair of square pupil lime pulp eyes eclipse the peephole. Enki places his hand inside the identity socket.

“Ok, Enki.”

He approaches a parallel purple vascular tissue system tubular conduit that folds from a seamed outgrowth in the floor into an ingrowth in the wall. There is an entry cleft that peels open to the interior of a ferry seed. Enki boards followed by another Receptorian—likely off to work. The pearl white ovular pit has a dodecahedron on top. The display terminal for external viewing that partitions the anterior illuminates. Bubbles of chartreuse chlorophyll obscure distance. Emerald green cilia surround the inside of the conduit. They wave onward in unison. The stubby short-necked citizen reveals his eagerness.

“The renovations were overdue don’t you think.”

Enki is subdued and terse with his acquaintance.

“Indeed.”

“They thinned the outer exocarp layer and beneath, the mesocarp was redesigned with new enzymes.”

“How do you like the renovations to the heliotrope patterning in the hallways?”

“I didn’t know of any?”

“Well one thing is certain: the cilia and capillary still operates well.”

The cilia beat rhythmically in a single direction, until the Ferry Seed decelerates. The motion is smoother then ever and the other passenger reaffirms it.

“Less jerk!”

A space devoid of cilia appears. Air pockets on the display terminal snap and the ferry seed halts. The entry cleft opens and they disembark.

“Pleasantries.”

Enki pries a smile.

“Thank you.”

He sinks his hand into an entry socket. Excited by the loud sloppy sucking sound, the entry slides aside into a groove in the frame. He leaves the Domed Node Chamber and strolls down a bustling hallway. Then as the ripples carry on he stops in a concave recess. He inspects the intricate design etched into the skin of the hallway in shades of heliotrope. He is disappointed that a fellow Receptorian didn’t notice his own meticulous work. He leaves the recess and joins the flowing throng. On arriving at his workstation chamber he thrusts his hand into the warm squashy entry socket until the entry parts.

Two bulging bulbs on either slanted side of the arched tissued ceiling shine effulgently. Six triangular orifices circulate air easily. Taking it in on the right and blowing it out on the left. A ground tissue system wall separates twin workstations the size of an introvert in Enkis living chamber. There is a dodecahedron that spins in both workstations inside a cavity in the wall.

“Greetings Enki.”

“Greetings Lale.”

Enki passes through an entry into his workstation on the other side of the partitioning wall. His chamber, like it’s twin, has a series of small empty purple vats. There is one large one in the corner filled with colourless acid with its twin vat hanging directly above. He sinks his hand into a gauge socket embedded in the grounded vat. This causes the hanging vat to radiate light unto the lower one. The viscous acid comes to life and fizzles. He then announces his intended setting.

“Intensity 8…”

Enki pulls his hand from the gauge socket and the light continues to radiate until the liquid turns green. He uses an acid baster and transfers liquid from the large vat into the first of the smaller ones. Again he immerses his hand into the gauge socket of the large vat and annunciates.

“Intensity 3…”

Withdrawing from the socket, the light continues to radiate until the liquid turns bright orange. He transfers orange into the second small vat. He places his hand into the socket of the large vat.

“Intensity 10…”

The hanging vat radiates at its highest and hottest. The liquid in the floor vat turns violet and Enki transfers it into the third small vat. The vat ceases to radiate and Enki sits down on a comfy settle near the entry leading to the other twin workstation.

“I’m on the verge of understanding the effects of Intensity 10 radiation on the different colours of Sulphuric Acid. Intensity ten brightens it so much more than any other intensity and violet is unstable at that degree of radiation. I can never get a similar shade of violet. Sulphuric acid radiated to the highest level could be the key to a breakthrough in colour creation, allowing me to pattern from dreams. If I could make this breakthrough I could rise my social status to 32nd degree and leave…”

Enki approaches a rolling fabric canvas. He dips his brush into the smaller vat containing violet. The fabric rolls out of one vertical slit and into another in the chartreuse wall. The rolling stops and he paints algorithm patterns inspired by dreams. When he finishes, there is a scanning tool that he slides down on two vertical ridges three feet apart. Over the fabric canvas it scans the chosen frame on the sheet. After being archived the scan is sent for approval.

“If these scans are approved they can be used as templates for tissue system shading and patterning. And maybe citizens will notice this time. There’s still something that feels missing.”

The entry beside the settle slides open and in walks Lale.

“Are you using intensity 10?”

“Yes!”

“Well my radiator vat lost power and my nektar orifice lost redolence. You know your suppose to let me know when your going liquefy at intensity 10.”

“Bullocks, you were using intensity 10 also.”

“Do you want to consult Bexsive then? You know I outrank you.”

“Get out of here, I’m working.”

Lale leaves Enki's workstation and the entry swooshes closed. Enki notices his violet liquid lost saturation. He presses the gauge socket on the large vat. There is a crunching hum. It flickers on for a moment before stalling.

“Bullocks!”

Enki presses the gelatinous socket beside the entry in the median between the twin workstations. The entry slides open and he storms through.

“Where are you going?”

He leaves the chamber with a glower. Ripples pass him by in a triangular hallway.

“Why do I feel this way? Lale is different also. Everyone is changing.”

He decides to visit an old friend. When he finds the entry point and presses upon the gel plate within a squashy entry socket Caviols baritone voice spills out.

“Who is it?”

“Enki.”

Enki releases the gel plate. The entry slides open and Enki is greeted by Caviol’s full cheeked broad smile. Caviols eye’s crinkle and he assumes his standard stern look.

“Caviol, you shaved your head.”

Enki notices a discolored scar from his left ear to the center of the back of his head.

“I dreamt it first Enki.”

“Do you still dream of the future?”

“Do you still dream of the past?”

“I ran in to your daughter.”

“Just a run in?”

“She’s busy with gatherings.”

“Of course she is.”

“I don’t follow?”

“She thinks she can become a 30 plus degree Receptorian by keeping with the proper social circles.”

The right side of Caviols face is wrinkled and the left smooth. The extrovert of his chamber is modified like none other. There are strange dark stones that fill narrow depressions in the floor. Enki is always fascinated by the novelty of Caviols eccentric chamber. There is no stick and the load is slight.

“Enough frivol. What brings you here Enki, It’s not…”

“I’m close to a breakthrough, I think if I can realize this breakthrough I can become a 30 plus citizen, I just need some more time and luminescent intensity. And I’m curious, your daughter mentioned you were working with ethylene.”

“I have to be more careful what I reveal to her. Her callow tongue will be the end of me.”

“Ok, what about the ethylene?”

“I’ve been given orders to change the ethylene exposure.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Well follow me to that comfy settle and let’s talk properly.”

“You're right! How did you get this settle so comfy?”

“Catalysis of chemical reactions with the help of close proximity rating enzymes. When we sit the tissue is packed closer together, well, the enzymes work against… they counter balance this effect.”

“Bizarre.”

“You want to know about ethylene.”

“Yes…”

“Ethylene is the ingredient in nectar that has a pleasant sweet faint odor, and has a slightly sweet taste; it enhances fruit ripening, assists in the development of odour-active aroma volatiles…especially esters.”

“What are esters?”

“The most common type of esters are carboxylic acid esters. Other esters include phosphoric acid, sulfuric acid, nitric acid, and boric acid.”

“Ah of course.”

“Volatile esters often have a smell and are found in perfumes, oils and pheromones and give to many fruits…they give fruits their smell. Esters can, well they cause for the specific smell of each kind of flower or fruit.”

“Is nitric acid what…”

“Yes it’s used in baptisms. Concentrated nitric acid is used to die our skin yellow. Due to a reaction with the protein keratin these yellow stains turn orange when neutralized. Nitric acid is also used for organic syntheses and is a key reactant as well as an oxidizing agent. We send all our acids to the Ecol Globule. Boric acid is used in slug manufacturing. Boric acid is sent to the Ecol Globule so they can synthesize it into flame retardant and antiseptic solutions, which are then synthesized into the tissue systems. Phosphoric acid is an etching solution, to clean and roughen the surfaces. Sulphuric acid of course, you are well familiar with…”

“Of course. I work with it every day.”

“Without acid, Calyx would die and without ethylene there would be no acid or volatile nectar.”

“Is ethylene produced in the central pumphouse along with nectar, air, power and water?”

“Yes, in the central pumphouse, except unlike the other elementary substances ethylene does not run through the vascular tissue system. It has to be treated in the ecol globule first.”

“So where is the controversy?”

“The controversy is too much ethylene!”

“Bizarre?”

“In mild doses, ethylene produces states of euphoria, associated with…”

“Outrageous! Why haven’t…”

“Listen… Don’t pretend like you want to stay here forever. You wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

“How can the lifeblood of the calyx be euphoric?”

“It’s associated with stimulus to the pleasure centers of our brain. It has been hypothesized our liking for the volatile aromas of flowers and nectar vapor odors is due in part to a mild action of ethylene associated with the plant.”

“That’s the cure for getting through a hard day, or a day where everything seems amiss.”

“Exactly, a little euphoria will keep people following social protocol. It makes everything seem easier to deal with.

“Exposure at 37.5% for 15 minutes may result in marked memory disturbances. Humans exposed to as much as 50% ethylene in air, whereby the oxygen availability is decreased to 10%, experience a complete loss of consciousness, and may subsequently die due to hypoxia.”

“How long have you known about this Caviol?”

“Now I know from measurement. The Nath want me to increase exposure to 10.15%.”

“Will you?”

“I won’t do it, I have plans to escape!”

“Escape! They will burn you down!”

“Of course I’ve thought of it. But I was once a Nath at the inception of Calyx.

“What?”

“Yes, I came in with its birth and I will leave with…”

“I’ve had dreams of you.”

“That was a long time ago, my plan is my apology. Escape with me.”

“I’ve got to sleep on it and I’m hungry. Let’s meet tomorrow.”

“Indeed, sleep on it Enki.”

Enki stands up and leaves Caviol's decadent chamber. He walks through the throng like a ghost among euphoric semi-grins. The naïve motivation illuminates his will to transmute restlessness into a rage for freedom. The long and narrow hallway impels ripples that stretch across the slanted sides. They flow overhead like a sign of life to a dying faith.

“Why shades of heliotrope?”

Enki plods home and enters his chamber. He sits and drops his head on the dining surface. In a cloud of dampness Enki sweats tears that gloss over his eyes. They blink incessantly. The chortling and swallowing sounds of his chamber exaggerate and reverberate against his sensitive skin. The light gains intensity and swells his eyes. They become like heated rocks. He cannot focus or face incisive pressure. Blue, yellow and red orbs swarm from the corners of his peripheral vision. They melt into his glower. He shuts his eyes and from behind his head cold dark green orbs fly to the back of his irritated lids. The tendrils tighten their clasp. His brain feels bruised and swollen. His temples pound like drums. They beat to the echoing dissonance of his livid organic chamber. He presses his hands firmly against his head and is hailed by numbness. Disillusioned and dizzy, blood trickles down his nose. With only a semblance of balance, he plods to his carnation womb.

. . .

A stale fragrance holds redolence of a dim chamber. With blurry vision he watches cloaked figures leaning over a raised platform upon which he lies anesthetized. His head springs outside of himself. He observes his child body from above as they insert green filament into an open slice on the back of his head. He feels his brain for the first time as cold slithering tendrils burrow inside.

. . .

Slippery lids uncover the warm glow of eager oval bulbs. On opposite sides of the arched non-curvilinear porous ceiling light fills the chamber, accompanied by a licking din. Enki's womb whirls half way open and sticks momentarily before opening fully. The soft tissue within deflates releasing pressure from his encapsulated body. His eyes remember their usefulness and intake the organic environment. He breathes out and sighs perseveringly.

“My brain feels foreign, withdrawn, withheld, does calyx embrace me from within? Perusing my mind, would it retaliate?”

The atmosphere rises from two load and one stick to five load and four stick. He steps out of the warm carnation womb and stretches his arms. He approaches the nectar socket and chooses a bitter scent for thrill, to remind himself of wakefulness. The volatile nectar evaporates, spewing out its invigorating redolence. The ground tissue system walls ruffle. The purple vascular tissue system that’s embedded in the walls pulsate rhythmically. Their dawdling creates diminuendo moaning. The tissued walls finish their ruffling and decide to undulate steadily. The purple tissued pipes tire and their pulsating wanes. There is whooshing, and suddenly, a swallowing clamor. Behind Enki the womb compartment gradually whirls shut.

. . .

Enki immerses his hand into an entry socket. Enlivened by the loud sloppy squelching, the entry slides aside into a groove in the pus-inflated frame. He enters into a hallway and notices a few renovators patching a leak in the walls. The tissued walls ripple overhead. He finds the entry point for a domed node chamber and inside sinuous pipes converge with lumpy junctions that are scattered within the walls. There is a curvature outgrowth on the left with a sizable peephole leading to the inner tollbooth compartment. Its covered by a lime pulp square pupil eye. He approaches parallel tubular conduits that fold from a seamed outgrowth in the floor into an ingrowth in the wall. There is an entry cleft beneath an opening in the conduit that peels open. Enki takes sits on a polished settle. He watches the waving cilia through layers of fizz and turns inward.

“If I were to experiment with intensity ten and capture it’s unstableness and use that as a base for heliotrope... New shades could be created that could revolutionize… It could work if I had enough power.”

The ferry seed decelerates steadily until a space devoid of cilia arrives. Bubbles on the display terminal burst and the ferry seed halts. The entry cleft opens and he enters a non-curvilinear octahedron shaped receptacle, with a convex ceiling and even floor. There are three ceiling bulbs and a row of air orifices in-between each that spread a steady glow. A nectar orifice on the left hand side of the entrance wall sprays subtle savory redolence. Enki brushes his thick brown hair out of his face. The dodecahedron below the open window of the raised booth revolves. There are raised concave outgrowth booths in the sidewalls of receptacle. From an open strip along the breadth of the booth, a few rough skinned Borliths monitor social protocol. On the left there is a hollow bulbous growth appended to the outgrowth with a sizable peephole. Inside the vertical ovular shaped tollbooth two brawny Borliths gossip.

“Did you hear about outburst in Econ Globule?”

“No.”

“My Brother works in its Receptacle. Apparently young Receptorian refused to leave his womb.”

“What happened?”

“Slugs found him when they arrived to clean his chamber. They anesthetized him.”

“Has this before?”

“Never. But it was kept secret. No one is authorized to know.”

“Makes you wonder if there have been any other outbursts.”

“Someone’s coming.”

One of the Borliths pears out of the peephole and spots Enki as he places his hand through the identification socket. He submerges his hand into the identification socket embedded beneath the peephole. It’s warm and oozing as he withdraws as one of the Borliths approves the scan.

“Ok, Enki.”

He nears four parallel purple dermal tissue system Pedestals. They fold over from a circular seamed outgrowth in the floor to a circular seamed ingrowth in the sweating wall. There’s a rumble as a russet ferry seed decelerates beneath the tubular conduit wall, on the right. Enki approaches the opening in the fold. A Borlith announces the departure.

“Boarding for Central Globule, Echelon 2.”

The entry cleft peels and he descends slender steps into the endosperm pit. As the ferry seed surges forth through seething chartreuse chlorophyll, he leans back in his compressible settle. The ferry seed thrusts forth with great power. Enki watches the terminal display in the anterior and is inspired inward. He feels the subtle motion of being hurled past contrails of bursting pockets of air. He passes serene emerald green cilium that overspread the cylindrical pedicle. Enki peers out and turns inward.

“Caviol wants to escape, and with me… it doesn’t sound so foreign, the outside. But Calyx has sweetness… vigor in sweetness! I crave a redolence that is lost…”

. . .

Enki's fingers delve through the membranous entry socket. The entry passes into the ridge of the filament filled frame. Enki gulps back in aversion to the sudden increase in load and stick. He enters a tissued vestibule with a far side that opens to the lofty park. He then sinks his hand into moist gelatin. The identification socket tightens momentarily before releasing. He eyes the right side of the vestibule—there is a margin in the ruffling wall, revealing a slender stairway that curves behind a bend in the ground tissue system wall. He turns to the dimly lit park before passing under the low ceiling at the far side of the vestibule. When he eagerly leaves the brightness of the open chamber behind, he becomes elated at seeing delicate vegetation. Trunks of jackfruit trees are riddled with drooping jackfruit ready to snap at the stem. Its distended boughs are spread far apart. They burst into greenery. Tropical evergreen trees long to embrace the down pouring effulgence of the overhead bulbs. The load is thick and the stick dense. The vegetation sways to the dancing orifice sent breeze. Only the ceiling sheds light on the enormous size of the place. Enki treads the morning dew moistened dirt path that maneuvers between dangling star fruit and frowning ferns. A smile forms on Enki's captivated orange face. He turns right at a fork in the path just beyond patches of cilium. Then he approaches a row of slender settles and spots Caviol’s stocky body.

“Let’s get right to it Enki.”

“Ok.”

“Salt is harmful to all slugs; it causes slugs to dehydrate. Blood rushes to the surface of their skin in order to dilute the salt. It only takes a little bit of salt.”

“I’ve heard of salt.”

“That’s because the entire Calyx Receptory is buried in the Cyan Lake bed.”

“Absurd. What’s that supposed to mean?”

Caviol is insistent and persuasive with characteristic outbursts of confidence.

“Take this salt bomb.”

“What in Calyx…”

“The Nath can hear our conversation.”

Enki takes the sleek pearl white salt bomb.

“Now?”

“Yes. We’re being targeted for monitoring review at this moment. It’s the dodecahedrons on the ceiling, and the cilia that can sense our deceitful chemical patterns. Their retribution won’t take effect until tomorrow. They’re too bureaucratic to get things done fast. The slugs will bore out of the pores of the ground tissue system. You must use the salt against them. The Nath will assume victory with the slugs assault. They're overconfident.”

“I want to see what the place… how do you call it...”

“Outside.”

“Yes.”

“Follow my plans and you will leave a new man.”

“Ok.”

“Meet me here at this time tomorrow.”

“The Ivory Globule is at Echelon Zero. From the central globule, Echelon One, it’s straight up. There is only one ferry seed that travels the five-mile distance. Usually it stays at the Ivory Globule receptacle but the Pedestal is under renovation. I have a friend in the Economy Globule that owes me a favor and he can get you a job on the renovation team. You then have the authority to escort me to the Ivory Globule Receptacle. From there we hop a transplant seed”

“What’s a transplant seed?”

“A seed that travels far outside, to create new Receptories.”

“You mean we aren’t the only Receptory?”

“Precisely. There’s nothing unique about Calyx Receptorians or this place at all.”

Enki picks himself up as a four feet long and two and a half feet tall, slug torsions round a patch of mural mushrooms. Caviol rubs the wrinkled side of his face and smiles.

“They’re processing cilia. The order for our assault won’t be passed until tomorrow.”

Caviol departs and Enki looks back at the hefty chartreuse yellow slugs that compress and contort. The nicely groomed path meanders by looming bows that waver and drop beads of dew unto the thick underbrush. Enki savors his vivifying breathing as it satisfies his sensibilities. He skirts the fern green walls of the park chamber to the vestibule opening. Returning to the brightness, Enki walks towards the stairway. He climbs into a spacious octahedron in shape chamber. Every side is curved inward to an oval seamed fuchsia yolk sac. He approaches one of the two by two feet display terminals that are embedded in-between each bulging semblance sac. A feminine voice annunciates the options.

“Pleasurable emotions include: passion, compassion, mindfulness, awe…”

Enki chooses his option without hesitation.

“Neutral. Reverence.”

He enters into the penetrable semblance sac. Submerged in viscous liquid, he remains still. The tepid yolk gels and eases his body to the back of the sac, where he floats upward. His head rises into a compartment of air that is one foot high by one foot wide.

“Please relax as neural peptides are introduced to your neural pathways. You will feel outside yourself as they bond. Please relax.”

His senses rewire to the calyx nervous system. The sour aroma of the yolk fades away. The gooey gelatinous yolk becomes like air. His sight cannot focus and it blurs. Fuchsia drains into blackness and his focus returns useless. A familiar mellow paced fluid voice pours out omni-presently.

“The Nath are suffocating. Enki, your purpose is outside. You’ve been baptized twice.”

“You’ve brought me to the brink of crevasse and it’s you who keeps me from falling? How can I be with you outside?”

“There is a way!”

Enki is warmed by her words. There is a flash of white light followed by a landscape from memory. Within a valley walled in by steep cliffs draped it mist, cobble streets curve between huts. Feerluong, the Siamese street cat prowls in the humid night. A scurrying mouse sustains a puncture wound from a glinting claw. The frantic mouse vanishes. Feerluong is left chagrined, until the raw umber hut is lit once more. Inside the flowing log on log looking hut, in a square room rife with colorful toys, a chubby baby cries. His father strokes himself on his broad jaw that widens at the bottom.

“Will he survive the night?”

“Who’s heading the campaign?”

“Caviol.”

His wide-eyed mother winces.

“Caviol is restless with protocol!”

With slight of hand, his mother massages his father’s hand and they embrace. Outside Feerluong meows in protest and retreats as another mouse eludes his sharp claws. Inside a tissued womb Enki is encapsulated.

“Where is home?”

He cannot focus and from behind his head, dark green orbs fly to the back of his sore lids. Tendrils tighten their grasp and his brain feels swollen and bruised. His eyes feel bruised in the light and his skin becomes over sensitive. Voice like morning dew, she captures his attention.

“I will leave you soon. When your sweat shimmers from a foreign light.”

Enki feels his body constricted. His purview changes to an ivory haze, until specs of fuchsia dilate and he whiffs sourness. He observes the cramped headspace within the semblance yolk sac.

. . .

Enki returns to his twin workstation. The entry retreats into a plump frame. Lale places his painter on a tray. He steps away from his canvas station and turns to confront Enki.

“You’re late and you’re interrupting my work. This isn’t prime. My vats falter because you over charge your vats with outlandish intensity that nobody uses. I’m through being an amiable co-worker. It’s over I’m reporting you to Bexive and he’ll deal with you aptly.”

“Ok.”

“That’s right pretend like your impervious. Today is your last day. Now leave.”

Enki thrusts his hand into the entry socket and it constricts his hand so that he cannot pull out.

“Something wrong?”

Enki thrusts his hand with all his strength and the gelatin breaks its hold enough for him to slide back out. The entry moves aside and Enki leaves Lale to his foreboding flurry of impulsive thoughts and rehearsed accusation. Enki enters his workstation on the other side of the partition. A patch of cilium leans towards him ominously.

“Burn! His fun is gossip and drama… It’s been to long since I’ve known about intensity ten’s potential… I’ll be gone either way… If I leave everything will change… But is she Calyx… Or did the semblance yolk malfunction… or did I?” He inspects the series of small acid vat and then approaches the lone large one in the corner. It’s twin hangs directly above. He sinks his hand into the gauge socket on the purple grounded vat and the hanging vat radiates light unto it’s it. He announces his chosen setting.

“Intensity 10…”

Enki pulls his hand from the gauge socket and the light turns the sulphuric acid violet. He uses a baster and transfers liquid from the large vat into the first of three smaller ones.

“Lale was… is miserable!”

He approaches the entry, presses the socket and egresses. Enki tromps into the twin workstation towards Lale’s large vat.

“Hey what are you doing? Enki, you rotten withered peace of tissue.”

Enki ignores Lale, who is stunned. He presses the gauge socket on the large vat.

“Intensity 10.”

Lale musters courage and approaches Enki. He shudders and stutters.

“Hey this is my space!”

Enki flips around and stares Lale down.

“Bloody offal!”

Enki turns around to leave and Lale shoves him hard. He trips and stumbles without loosing his balance. Enki flips around and pushes Lale on the chest, throwing him to the floor. Enki’s hands remained glued, as Lale plunges to the ground. He lets him go and presses into his long neck with his forearm.

“You won’t bother me again, Lale.”

Enki releases pressure and Lale coughs. Enki stands up invigorated. His belly feels on the brink of an elusive swallow that never comes. He passes through the entry to his own workstation. Then he immerses his hand into the gauge socket of the large vat again. The purple vat trembles, causing dissonant gurgling noises. He sends his regards to the spirit of his adopted home.

“My apologies Calyx.”

Enki picks his baster up from a tray and transfers the acid to the second small vat. Just as the colour in the second separates he sucks it up with his baster and transfers it to the third. The sulphuric acid turns blue. The hanging large vat swells and tears at its seam in the ceiling. Enki shudders and yells with excitement. The overhanging vat bursts into greenish flames and Enki is overcome with hysterical laughter.

“A new colour! The colour of a dream! A dream outside!”

He approaches his rolling fabric canvas. It rolls into the wall until a frame of new fabric appears. Enki’s eyes gleam with the flame that does not spread because of the flame retardant coating on the walls. He impulsively runs his fingers through thick brown hair and allows thoughts to vanish. Enki meticulously paints a blue merkaba.

“The shape of my dreams!”

He grabs the scanner and slides it down on its two vertical ridges until it stops over the fabric canvas. It scans a remarkably shaded merkaba for archiving. As the merkaba begins to roll away toward the slit in the wall Enki rips the fabric, rolls it up and places it neatly in a pocket. Enki presses the gel plate soft spot of a socket. The entry slides open and he storms through Lale’s workstation. He leaves the chamber and passes under the ripples in a hallway. He decides to visit an old friend. He finds his entry point and presses upon the gel plate.

“Slerng?”

“Who?”

“Enki!”

Enki releases the gel plate and the entry opens. He sees Slerng and greets him.

“Old clodhopper.”

Slerng's genuinely stiff face allows for the crunching of his cheek muscles in a rare Borlith smile.

“Welcome, sit by dining surface.”

Enki sits down and notices that the extravert is as austere as ever.

“Does calyx have a spirit?”

“We Borliths originally from Calyx like yourself we have home outside.”

“Why are you telling me this now?”

“Calyx is dying.”

The bulbs in the extrovert flicker.

“How can that be?”

“Calyx has lifespan like any plant.”

“So it has a spirit then?”

“She is beautiful and appears in the dreams of Borlith Receptorions.”

“She’s appeared in my dreams.”

“I don’t know Enki, but I’ve been told you’re special.”

“I’ve made a break through in colour creation. It will be approved soon however I’m in serious trouble.”

Slerng wheezes and blinks slowly.

“So am I.”

“Why?”

“Because of telling you this, Cilia are already processing neural peptides and sense the deceit. See them recoil. As always such disobedience will lower my social status.”

“Thank you Slerng.”

“Go now.”

“Ok.

Enki leaves the extrovert and continues along the hallway until he reaches his chamber entry. Once in the introvert a cloud of dampness seems to form around him. He sweats tears that gloss over his eyes. They blink incessantly. Waves of oversensitivity pass over his orange skin. The chortling and swallowing sounds of his chamber exaggerate and reverberate against his sore skin. The light gains intensity and swells his eyes. They become like heated rocks. He cannot focus or face incisive pressure. Blue, yellow and red orbs swarm from the corners of his peripheral vision. They melt into his glower. Invisible tendrils spread at the back of his head, tightening. He shuts his eyes and from behind his head dark green orbs fly to the back of his irritated lids. The tendrils tighten their grasp. His brain feels bruised and swollen. His temples pound like drums. They beat to the echoing dissonance of his breathing chamber. He presses his hands firmly against his head and is met with numbness. Disillusioned and dizzy, blood trickles down his nose. He panics and runs clumsily to the water basin. He peers at his reflection and notices a cessation in the bleeding. His uncertainty overwhelms his now crumbling foundation.

. . .

The bulbs gain in brightness and flicker. Enki's womb whirls wide open and the soft tissue deflates. His eyes recall themselves and his lids part. He breathes out and sighs.

“I need to breath deeper.”

The stick and load increase as the walls ruffle violently. Purple pipes pulsate rhythmically. The walls tauten and undulate. The pipes tire and sedate. Squelching resounds throughout the introvert. Enki opens a cubby and grabs his clothes and places the salt bomb in a pocket. He dresses in his lavender blush renovation garb and leaves the introvert for the last time. He strips a couple strings of Mangosteen flesh and slices a Mural mushroom on the dining surface. He chugs his citrus water and gobbles his last meal.

He picks himself up and is disquieted by a site never habituated. Mucous spills out of a few overstretched pores in the wall as slugs maneuver out and unto the floor. They slide with torsion across the slicked floor. Extra mucous excretes around their bodies and trails behind them as they prepare to immobilize him. Their flaccid tentacles erect and their small, swollen, red slimy toothed mouths salivate. Their eyestalks cock back in response to honing in on him. They approach the dining surface and their lower tentacles distend. Another one slides out stretching a pore in the wall. Dropping from above, a slug hits the floor riding on a skinny strand of slime. Enki’s pulse rises and his stomach sinks. His terror turns to rage. He beats it back with a rising sense of fatalistic confidence.

“If I don’t escape, there’s nothing.”

He glides on the lubricated floor and falls on his back.

“Burn!”

Slugs slide menacingly towards him. He scrambles without time to make it to his feet, as they close in on him. Their tentacles reach out to contact him. They sting him and they press their rubbery slime coated bodies over him. They weigh him down. He feels muscles relaxing involuntarily. Panic becomes a state of mind only as he forces his hand into a pocket for the salt bomb. They’re salivating yellow fanged round mouths move in for gradual ingestion. He detonates his weapon and everything turns bright grey. A mist veils the entire extravert. He feels his chest as it’s alleviated from the excess weight. He closes his stinging eyes on the brink of beckoning slumber. He then forces them open and amidst the haze of bright grey, he discerns four convulsing heaps of slimy yellow that let high pitched shrills fill the atmosphere of their own surprising demise.

Enki enters into a hallway. The skin ripples along the walls. He enters a domed node chamber. The peephole is covered from within. He places his hand inside the identification socket and is surprised when it slacks. He approaches a conduit but the entry cleft of a newly arrived ferry seed remains shut. He turns around as two Borliths waddle towards him. He’s trapped and desperate.

“Sorry Calyx!”

He drops his workbag and takes out two acid basters. He turns to the wall and jabs one inside releasing an outflow of puss. With the other one he pulls himself upward. He punctures the wall again but it tears and he slides to the ground. Covered in viscid puss he reminds himself of the beauty in his blue dreams. The seven feet tall broad shouldered Borliths speak in unison.

“There’s nowhere to go.”

With their bone-clenching grip, they snatch Enki by the shoulders and hold him up in the air. Staring at him agog, he bends his arms, points the acid baster toward their glower and sprays the puss into their beady lime pulp eyes. They loosen their grip enough for him to wiggle free. He runs to the booth and releases the locked entry cleft. As it peels, he skirts the chamber, dives into the ferry seed and reaches enough to press the emergency manual thrust socket. The ferry seed takes off as light diffuses through the endosperm coating and bounces back from the endocarp pit encasing. Dancing diamonds of sparkling light take hold of his attention. The air is damp and it looms about in protest. The ferry seed stalls momentarily and he becomes introspective.

“There’s only outside now.”

. . .

Enki disembarks into the Central Receptacle. The dodecahedron rotates below the open window of a raised booth. From the raised concave outgrowth booths in the sidewalls of the receptacle, Borliths survey social protocol. He cautiously submerges his hand into the gloppy identification socket. He then yanks it, but his hand is caught in the tightened identification socket. A bulky stiff faced Borlith waddles calmly over to him. Several Receptorians that wait to enter a ferry seed look on with stiff curiosity. The Borliths turn to his frustration.

“You’ve been isolated.”

Garbed in a thick and tight violet robe with a loose fitting hood, Caviol dashes over and stands before them with contrived confidence.

“I’ll take him now.”

The Borlith succumbs to confusion.

“Um.”

“Something on your tongue Borlith?”

“No.”

Caviol sustains his assertiveness.

“Fine.”

The Borlith signals to another one in the raised booth. The socket slacks and Enki pulls out. Caviol grabs him by the arm and passes the identification socket without using it. They withdraw to the four parallel pedestals. A russet ferry seed breaks with a splash.

“Now boarding for Echelon Zero.”

They board and the ferry seed speeds through seething effervescent chlorophyll while Enki leans back in his compressible settle. Caviol betrays his sullen pride.

“At least you remembered your renovator garb. The pockets were deep enough I gather.”

“I’m groggy. Do you have some citrus?”

Caviol hands him a tall container of citrus water.

“Slugs are elusive… Here, conserve this.”

“It’s hard to believe we’re on our way to the Ivory Globule.”

“Believe it!”

The ferry seed speeds onward. It hurls past contrails of bursting air pockets and emerald green cilium.

. . .

In an empty glistening octahedron chamber there are black semblance sacs that emit a dim glow. There is only a droning hum signifying life. From within the yolk, Seven Nath are wired to the Calyx main frame. Their shriveled skeletal bodies float motionless whilst they communicate with each other through the calyx central nervous system interface.

“Check Enki is arriving.”

“Balancing.”

Within the Pedestal the ferry seed decelerates steadily. On the display terminal an empty portion of the pedicle arrives. The chlorophyll seethes and the ferry seed docks. The entry cleft opens and he peels into the Ivory Receptacle. The Ivory Receptacle is a non-curvilinear octahedron shaped chamber. It’s entirely pearl white, with a convex ceiling and flat floor. The walls are sleek and nearly blinding. There are six ceiling bulbs and a far-reaching row of air orifices in between each that maintain a high-powered flux. There are three nectar orifices that emit the thickest and sweetest perfume. Receptorians are only permitted to enter the Ivory globule if they have attained their 32nd degree. Even renovators are required to have a 30th degree social status. The chamber is devoid of cilium and dodecahedrons. There’s only a single outgrowth that wraps around one third of the wall without edges. There is an open strip along the breadth of the sleek booth revealing its emptiness. There is one single enormous purple dermal tissue system Pedestal that folds from a seamed outgrowth in the floor into a wider ingrowth in the wall. There are several renovators working on the inflated seams and pedestal walls. Through the pedestal opening there is a transplant seed that’s much larger than any other seed.

“That’s the transplant seed. ”

“The cleft is peeled.”

“Follow my lead.”

“Ok.”

Caviol leads Enki to the renovators and introduces him to the head Renovator.

“This is Enki, he’s been assigned.”

Caviol heads for the empty booth and the head renovator nods.

“So Enki is this your first time in the Ivory?”

“Yes.”

The head renovator is a burly fellow with blond curly hair. His voice sounds raspy.

“See that stocky man over there with the facial stubble and well rounded chin.”

“Yes.”

“His name is Aalip…You’ll be working with him.”

“Ok!”

Enki approaches Aalip with care in his steps.

“Aalip?”

“Yes, get to work on this tissue, it needs enzyme filling. Have you used a transducer before? Well have you or haven’t you?”

Enki is slow to react but in acknowledging the tumultuous path ahead, he is able to summon enlivening courage.

“Ok, give it to me!”

Aalip is straight to the point.

“Burn. Do it well, we have a reputation to uphold. The Nath you entered with won’t invite pleasantries upon clodhoppers.”

Enki takes hold of the transducer. It’s heavy and comes up to his waist with a syringe that juts out of the base of its bulk.

“Well what are you waiting for…You’re a sluggard aren’t you? Inject the enzyme!”

Enki looks over to the booth and sees Caviol intently focused on the pedestal controls.

“Get to work you. This is your last warning!”

With a dazzling display of vibrations upon its tissue the Pedestal comes to life. Churning and gushing resounds throughout the Receptacle. The distended opening in the pedestal swells, throwing the renovators to the floor. The seed bobs sending a crack riding up the side of the purple dermal tissue system. The swooshing chlorophyll spills out and soaks a few renovators. They holler at their scalding chemical burns.

Unaware to Caviol, a Nath approaches. Inside the booth Caviol is hit with an unseen force. He hits the wall and falls out of sight beneath the sill. The Nath is somewhat human in appearance, although he’s unusually flat skinned with pure black eyes. His hair is long, semi sparse and black. He wears a violet hooded garb. He leaves the booth and glides down to the floor. He glares at Enki and spreads his arms. Enki feels invisible tendrils in his brain drilling deeper. The aching in his bruised brain is reinforced and he can’t help but kneel in agony. An unseen force drives him to the brink of incapacitation. On the floor he rolls around and sees her curvaceous body beneath a kaleidoscopic ivory dress. Her full face smiles mysteriously. The Nath is aghast and his plain face forces subtle surprise. She addresses him with serene clarity.

“Reverence was never for you. Why are you surprised? You are a Nath.”

She strides barely touching the ground and kisses him on his cheek. The Nath falls paralyzed on the ground and she disappears. Supporting his head with a hand, Enki strides desperately towards the russet transplant seed. He keeps his eyes out of focus in order to delay dizziness. Aalip abruptly grabs at his garb and yells with fear and desperation.

“What have you done?”

Enki boots him in the shin and shoulders him at the top of his rib cage. Aalip falls hard to the ground and mutters melancholically.

“There’s nowhere to go!”

Enki uses his hands to support his dizziness as it gains momentum. He climbs to the opening in the fold of the giant Pedestal and rolls down the stairway of the transplant seed. He tumbles into the pearl pit that’s much smaller than other seeds. There isn’t any anterior viewing screen. The light is dim, but he presses the manual launch socket and the entry cleft peels shut, closing him off to the Ivory receptacle and the madness rests within. With nothing more to carry his weary spirit he stretches out upon a settle and falls into a deep sleep.

. . .

Through an aquatic abyss perturbed by effervescence, the seed's contrail trails off. Through curtains of underwater sunlight, the seed's buoyancy overtakes its thrust. Sparking spouting air pockets greet its upward trajectory. From the darkened depths the seed bursts into the lustrous sky. Enki’s stomach is woozy while his heart pounds. The seed hits hard, splashing the rough waters with gusto. White caps whip the bobbing hall. Enki is belittled by a profound blue ceiling without perceptible limitation. The sun liquefies and the colours of the horizon twine in a way that brings awe. Midnight blue fades away into blackness speckled with forgotten stars. The diminished seed contrail propels him towards a glinting sandy inlet, where the water hurls upon the gently sloping beach. The entry cleft peals open and salt air stings Enki's lungs. His eyes become overwhelmed and bruised by the golden light. The backwash pulls wakes from closely set pebbles. The seed beaches itself in the shallows. Enki climbs out and slides down the side of the hall. He wades through water waist high until he reaches the gently sloping shore. He feels the tendrils in his brain loosening their grip. His head feels lighter then ever and his tender skin perspires tediously. Touched by the setting sun foreign beads of liquid evacuate painfully from his overstretched pores. They dry and cake on his skin. He vigorously scratches his arm and they flake off.

Tiny sinuous slopes wracked by the whipping wind blemish. Upon the white sandy beach there are darkened patches that signify the moist areas. Every footstep Enki leaves behind fills with water. Tall green grass overflows the eroded banks upon which Cane trees spout. Their dermal tissue system stocks are stiff. Sunken fingers of overhanging Mangroves pierce the clear cyan water. Trails of scarred red and grey boulders submerged in humps of tired sand. Meandering etchings from incessant tidal forces speak of bygones. The boughs of tropical spruce trees wave to landscapes of forgotten shapes and colours. A small olive skinned boy wrapped in a saffron tunic is on the beach waiting for him.

“Why is your skin orange?”

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