no growing, just pain (part 1)

the rising sun regains its claim over the sky; the cocooned creature's eyelids are scorched by the light even in its protective sanctuary, it wakes with a painful throb at the very top and bottom of its vertebral column.
(at least when you retreat into the recesses of your subconscious mind, you don't feel the imbalance hardwired into your body from the womb. at least you've navigated it thoroughly enough that you have the skill to flee from it if you need to. you can protect yourself from your brain's faults, but the world of flesh and blood overpowers any puny effort you make.)
few of the other scouts should be awake - they sleep longer, their metamorphosing bodies depriving them of energy faster. (yours does the same, but it doesn't change as much. there has always been something wrong with it, the medicine never helps and the doctors say it's too late for treatment.) the sun's rays leaks through the thin canvas of its tent, blotting its vision with blue and pink and green and yellow but it's never consistent enough to really put a label on it.

[ITEM: brown-lensed sunglasses]
+1 to perception
+2 to comfort
(you wear them in bright lighting, that means most of the time in the atoll,)
-1 to social skills
(the other scouts' eyes adjust easily to brightness, the glasses show them that yours are weaker)

when it puts on the glasses, suddenly everything is clearer and the sheer visual discomfort subsides, creeping away slowly. it rolls onto its back, stretching its tissues with a series of loud pops that make its vision spin out for a moment, (you do this all the time, someday it will be your last) though its spinal nerves and the muscles protecting them continue to strain and spasm against any attempt to tame them. its meat and bones contort themselves into a human-shaped silhouette (you've learned to hold this position as long as you need to) perfect to fit into fold-up chairs and tents and the temporary dwellings they let it into.

[ITEM: INNOCENT protein bars]
they're made with legume proteins, slaughter-free but difficult on the human gut. grown on the other side of the continent, of course. they add traces of asafoetida - stinking gum, some call it, devil's shit, to help it pass, if one can get past the smell. the bars are discontinued, not enough interest. but they were ordered for the camp, cheap enough to give out by the dozen to provide as nutrient-dense fuel for the evolving bodies of the new generation. (your body craves it, the pungence never triggered a negative reaction, so they give them to you like payment. they just taste like any other nutrientslop once you can get them to a manageable consistency to swallow. there they can cool the fire in your gut.)

it drinks them down with lukewarm instant coffee (you brew a container of it every few days) and stabilizer pills. the ingredients are nothing on their own, but maybe through chemical processes hidden to human eyes they can become something else, become something more than the sum of the parts, through its vessel.

two other tent-doors have been opened when it stalks out, meaning approximately two or three other scouts should be up and around. (you brought your own small tent so you don't have to share.) it places its bets and treads to the nearby stream, rubbing the wrinkled skin where its ribbon hangs open, almost blending in with the masses of black hairs curling around its neck. the number of scouts in an exploration troop is fixed to make secrecy difficult, so they hide their secrets with camouflage. out in the open. (you piss with the rest of them, even if you do it differently. the point is that you learn to look like one.)
the fitted cotton outfit and hard leather boots keep it from needing to adjust its form constantly, the ribbon reminds it to keep its head still. (they don't need to twitch like you do, make sure you do it in the right ways.) as much as the uniform is constrictive, it serves a purpose. make them serve a purpose. (for you? it helps you blend in. your camouflage.)

it joined them for breakfast, picking at whatever it can handle until the next meal, (your body doesn't work on their clock,) before preparing to explore. more bars for its bag, so it doesn't starve. its knife, gloves, magnifier, all the tools needed to keep a scout safe on the field. of course, the medicine pack. they try not to get hurt and sick, but it happens. (you remember that it will happen, and you're there to help them when it does. their safety - your responsibility.)

everything fits snugly on its lanky frame thanks to numerous belts and pockets, once brimming with space to be used, now filled with tiny miracles borrowed from carcasses of the gods. it will never let their materials go to waste, now that it knows their secrets. it thanks them, for granting the seeds of potential. may they bring purpose to a feeble insect's existence.

notes

interesting things about asafoetida

inspiring youtube video about forests

AUTHOR'S NOTE (oct. 21, 2024): today, i pluck tiny black gnats out of my plant. it's big and full enough that the fungus gnats will do little harm, so this is purely preventative medicine. i hope that their presence, through some means, will help my plant thrive - i know they feed on fungi, and my plant is fighting a powdery mildew infection. these dynamic interactions between forces of nature are what inspire me and flesh out the worlds i describe in my work.
medicine is one of the topics i'm interested in exploring; i've listed some questions for myself to answer either directly or indirectly in my writing. i wish to write more about the idea of a parasite or an infestation as medicine, something that can bring benefit to the body-as-an-ecosystem it inhabits. this piece is where i start with that, and i'm excited to bring more life to these subjects!