The Station, Part 64

These vines are surprisingly strong, more than capable of supporting my full weight. However, due to their extremely flexibility, they easily bend to my will, which adds an element of precariousness to the climb. It’s of no real concern. What I am concerned about is their seeming endlessness. I’ve taken my leave of the tree; I have no way of knowing if in fact, is still next to me or many meters below. And instead of the roots thinning as I had hoped, instead they have done something entirely unexpected. Their numbers may have lessened, but the ones that remain have grown thick, less malleable under my hands and feet. Instead of providing a grip I can wrap them around, I must seek out knots and crevasses within these increasingly large plants. It’s like I’ve gone back to the tree again, except that I have more of an indirect course towards whatever lays above. And now I’m convinced that there is something that sustains this strangest of all ecosystems that has nothing to do with sunlight. I must open my mind to other possibilities. Rules that I have been taught to be universals just may not be such.

There is a break in the vines. An opening of sorts roughly perpendicular to the ground. Perhaps ten meters across. Not a tunnel. More of a wedge that has seemingly forced itself into the crowd. Its edges are bulbous and a darkish muddy blue. But all else is cast in that subtle bluish glow, placing doubt on any true hues. Whatever it is, I am unnerved by it. This muddy form seems like an intruder here, having forced its way into the tangle of vines. I feel I should avoid it, but beyond it I can see little more. And What I see look to be several more of these supposed openings. If that is what they truly are. This is indeed the strangest of all crossroads.

I’ve passed on investigated beyond the first opening, discovering nothing more than an impenetrable darkness and silence. I have ascended further and found more of these protrusions. They do not have the look of randomness. The beginning of an arrangement around something is becoming more apparent. Something absolutely immense. So immense that it would dwarf even the tree I climbed to get here. A tree that was not a tree I have realized. Trees are not trees when they require no sunlight for chlorophyll. Trees do not have veins. Trees do not have pulses and do not bleed. When will I break this habit of applying rules of life that have been time and time again proven to do wrong? Perhaps I’ve just taken that vital first step—awareness of error of my ways.

As I progress ever upward, more of these constructions are revealed. They vary little from one to the next, all foreboding. Yet, as I see them increase in frequency, I am becoming enticed by their mystery, their reluctance to give up their secrets. I should not be so tempted. Time is short I feel. I cannot afford to deviate any more than I already have. They have become so frequent that I now have to find way to navigate around them, making my efforts that much more difficult. I have to stop and rest more frequently. And now would be the time that I miss those soft, pulsating forms filled with their juices, their blood. I see nothing here that could be used for subsistence. That is troublesome. I am expending much energy and not replenishing as I should. I look upward at my chances. There is nothing to indicate I will find what I need. Weakness will eventually lead to clumsiness, which very likely will lead to a fall. Not fatal at first in all likelihood, which I would deem merciful. But nature is not one to lead out mercy, now is it? It would in all likelihood be enough to promote a slow death by injury and dehydration. It is far, far too late to consider returning the way I came. Enough of that kind of thinking. I need to stay intent on finding possibilities. And that is where my annoying curiosity is now coming into play. With a mix of inquisitiveness and trepidation, I will now take my first foray into one of these distorted, ominous openings.