The Station, Part 63

With my belly full and I feeling satiated, I can now more fully concentrate on the issue at hand. The scenario I’ve put myself in feels rather ridiculous at the moment. Here I am, a virtual chimera of a pallid species and that of something else, a form that harkens back to much more primitive days, and a time when my grandparents of uncountable greats were living in trees. Although nothing quite so majestic as these specimens. I see no hint of an uppermost canopy of which there must be. But when the time comes, what am I to do? There is nothing that I can remember from the sleep lesson that even hinted at an ascent. I should be traveling in a Tunnel Round, the kind that would take me on a horizontal path. Is it possible that I somehow took the wrong tunnel? Now that I think about it—yes, I very well could have. So overconfident. So enamored by my own seeming importance. Creatures assisting me in finding my way like I was some sort of regal figure. I’m such a fool. It never really occurred to me until now that at least some of the behavior exhibited by the inhabitants was random. The worms of the snow—they could have been merely curious about the white furred oddity that had traversed their territory. And the path they provided? That may have just been a mere side of effect of a desire to see me gone as soon as possible. The tunnel they lead me to. That may have just been the most convenient for them and nothing more.

If that is the case, I have done nothing more than to sabotage myself and waste time. I don’t know how long the Whale intends to keep the station within its grasp. But I can’t sit here like a damn monkey and wallow in self pity either. I’ve made my choice. I will see this through. No more time for doubting. Off I go again.

I’m nearing the end of this…I think. The trunk has finally begun to narrow in circumference, the bark has taken on more of an aged, weathered appeal. The orb-like fruits are far fewer and smaller as well. Yet there is still no increase in ambient light. Could the canopy be that impenetrable? It seems I’ll find out soon enough. Another detail that seems odd—the frequency of vines is well above that of their counterparts below, going as far as to outnumber the branches of the tree itself. These vine look to be as strong as carbon cabling, perhaps even more so. And what few leaves they have appear atrophied and all but extraneous. I wonder what sustains their apparently thriving lifestyle…

Up a little further and I find my path actually becoming narrower. The combination of thickening vines, smaller branches and thinning trunk are making my choices in footholds and such fewer in number. On the positive side, a fall from even this great height may not be fatal. Painful still perhaps, but there is so much foliage between myself and the ground not that it surely will break my fall. I would have plenty of opportunity to regain my hold long before I really got into trouble. That will be of some comfort as I may be making a trip down in the near future. But what if I’m not? I can use the vines to climb now, as they’ve nearly obscured the tree trunk. As I go higher, I no longer even see the tree. There are only vines now.