The Station, Part 30 cont.

While I ate, my guides disappeared. I think their job was completed the moment I saw the tree. Listen to me. Their job. But that has to be it. They led me here with purpose. My certainty was so complete. I had convinced myself that I’d locate Frontier, just as I had thought I had foreseen. That was just a dream. I see that now. Because of all these vivid dreams I have been having, the one of the station has been the only nightmare. It was also the only one that didn’t leave these more than merely vivid sensory impressions as the others have been doing. No memory-like impressions of flight, or seeing through other eyes. Or tasting the glowing fruits of immense mushrooms that weren’t really mushrooms. The nightmare of the station had none of these left over. That’s where I must have gone wrong. I got the prediction wrong. But that’s okay with me. I think it’s better that I realized why I got it wrong. It’s one more layer of skin I have peeled from this onion. I have a distinct feeling that I’m going to have to peel away many more layers if I’m ever going to get to the bottom of this. The question now is, what do I do?

How could that have ever been a question? What the hell is wrong with me? Find Frontier of course!

I’m feeling kind of strange. No, more like I don’t feel that good. After I ate the fruit, I wandered around a bit, looking to see if I could spot any sign of a new set of tunnels. I thought briefly about retracing my steps and just taking yet another detour. But what is the rush after all. I mean, the temperature is pleasant enough, the air is breathable and apparently there’s food edible to a human. But it’s that last bit that I’ve begun to form doubts about. It could be nothing; merely my system beginning to adjust to a different type of subsistence. Or not. On earth, there are plants with bright red berries that look good to eat, but are deadly poisonous. Caterpillars that are brightly colored are so as to warn off predators that they aren’t good to eat. Just because something’s is attractive doesn’t necessarily mean that it is safe. I may have fallen for one of the oldest tricks in the book of evolution. I may be jumping the gun a bit here, but on the off chance things take a rapid turn for the worse, I wanted to report while I was still lucid. And while I still have my wits about me, I’m going to keep doing what I’ve been doing since the moment this all started—tell you as much as I can.

The strangeness I mentioned earlier is still with me, but more pronounced now. It went from a nervous feeling in my stomach to a mild ache. Isn’t that a classic sign of food poisoning? So few cases are reported anymore that it’s hard to say. I think I may also be running a slight fever. That symptom I’m more familiar with. But I’m not entirely convinced that it isn’t just because I’ve been exerting myself somewhat more. I’ve decided to try one direction now, toward the mountains. I’d estimate they are about two days walk from here. I’m going there because it’s my theory that I’ll find fresh water there. Maybe more food. That has to take priority. Water’s the big problem right now. Two days without it is really stretching it, even in this temperate climate. I wonder if it rains here. I’d imagine so if there is plant life this abundant. And I’m also wondering about sunburn. Does the light that comes down include ultraviolet radiation? If I’m lucky and it doesn’t then great. If not, sunburn is another problem. I may have to change my strategy. Find cover during the day, and walk at night. One thing I’ve noted; I haven’t seen any more of the fruit trees. And that has me wondering just what it was doing there. And why the man apes brought me to it. I wonder about this all the time now. All I’ve come up with are guesses. But the one thing I do find most sensible is that I’m being manipulated. Not by the Australopithecines specifically. I think they were acting as middle men of sorts. But for who or what? Damn, my stomach isn’t happy with me at all anymore. Not a bit. I’m really starting to cramp up. No nausea or dizziness. But I really want to sit my ass down. Not in the open. If I can’t get up again for a while, I don’t want to be this exposed to the elements.