Jarn’s Journal Year 6 Day 32

If you are looking for the A to Z Challenge post, click on the logo to the left or scroll down.

Year 6 Day 32

Well, they’re back.

I tried to explain my map, now transferred to a hide with Songbird and Meerkat’s help, to the gathered shamans. Songbird seems to have figured out that the map in some way corresponds to where I have been, though for the most part she considers it some sort of incomprehensible magic. Rather as I regard their ability to find their way around by using landmarks, I suspect.

The general reaction of the shamans could be summed up as “But we are standing here, on grass. How can we also be standing on that piece of hide?”

It might be possible to teach WildDog what a map means, but would it be wise? In fact, is it wise to let him grow up here? There are no other children here, and it has taken him only a few days to discover friendship with other children coming in. Songbird and Giraffe, likewise, are delighted to renew bonds with their old friends. Is it fair to them, to keep them here?

I need to think more deeply about this.

This is an except for Jarn’s Journal, supposedly the journal of a human-like alien stranded in Africa some 125,000 years ago. He has made contact with a group of primitive, nomadic humans, three of whom (with their child) are staying with him at the area where the normally scattered family bands meet once a year.

Jarn (A to Z Challenge)

Jarn was a R’il’nian who lived around 125,000 years ago, during the penultimate interglacial on Earth. He was a starship designer, but he was young and he left a few safety features out of his design. As a result he was stranded in Africa, and met primitive humans there. By everything he had learned he should have avoided having anything to do with them – the morality he had grown up with emphasized that proto-sentient and sentient species were to be left strictly alone to work out their own destiny. But he could not refuse to help a badly injured child, and as a result of this and other well-intentioned acts, he wound up hybridizing with the primitives, so that ultimately all of these Human ancestors had a small contribution from Jarn’s genes. In my science fiction universe Jarn made it back to his people after several thousand years, taking many of his hybrid descendants with him.  Here he is recording his first thoughts after the crash.

His Journal is currently being blogged a bit at a time on Fridays, and is also on my author site. The Jarnian Confederation, home of all my science fiction, is named after Jarn.

 I am alive, which still astonishes me. I do not know enough about this planet yet to have more than a rough idea of its year length, but no doubt I will find out soon enough. If I ever get back to where designing another starship is possible, I will design it with a few more of the standard safety features. Like the block against exiting a jump point too close to a gravity well.

If by any chance I do not get back home, and this record does, perhaps I should introduce myself. I am Jarn, a R’il’nian and a designer of starships. Not, I regret to say, as good a designer as I thought, or my third ship would be around me instead of lying in pieces on the bottom of one of this planet’s oceans. Indeed, it all happened so fast I am still somewhat confused, but I will try to state briefly what happened.

I was aiming for the vicinity of a G-type sun, and I came out of the exit jump-point too close to the third planet’s atmosphere, and heading into it. All I could do was maneuver into a braking orbit and try to kill enough energy that a water landing wouldn’t vaporize the ship and cause a major tidal wave. No, I could not have teleported to safety. I never was any good at interstellar teleports, or at going someplace I hadn’t been before. Another thing to work on if I ever get home.

Anyway, not only does the planet have lots of water, it also has land areas with large stretches of chlorophyll green. A huge one stretches almost halfway around the planet in the northern hemisphere, with an extension into the southern hemisphere at its trailing end, and a pair on the other side of the planet together extend almost from pole to pole. It looked as if there was ice at both poles, though it could have been clouds, and the readouts as I got into the atmosphere indicated one part oxygen to four of nitrogen. All this strongly suggested life, and it would be unethical in the extreme to let the ship destroy any more of that life than I could help.

I managed to trigger the escape capsule a minute or so before impact, which was toward the leading edge of the broadly serpentine north-south ocean, and flew it, with some difficulty, to the trailing edge of the southern extension of the larger land mass, where I am now recording this. I suppose it was a good landing, since I am still alive and sound, if shaken, but the capsule will never again be anything more than a rather crude shelter.

There is a small stream nearby, and an abundance of fibrous-looking vegetation which is being eaten by a wide variety of animals, including what appear to be perfectly good mammals. I don’t have and probably never will have the equipment to test whether their proteins are compatible with my own, but a fish from the stream was tasty enough. The stream water seems reasonably pure, though the larger water areas taste salty and are probably too mineral-rich to drink on a regular basis. The atmospheric oxygen content is neither so high as to allow uncontrolled wildfires nor so low as to give me any problem in breathing, and so far there are no obvious atmospheric toxins. So if I don’t swell up and die tonight from the fish, it looks as if I have the basic requirements for staying alive.

I didn’t manage to get a measurement of axial tilt, so I have no idea what the weather is likely to be or what season I am in. A lot of the vegetation looks desiccated, which may indicate that I arrived during a seasonal dry period, in which case I may need shelter when it starts to rain again. Or I may have landed in an area entering a long drought. I hope the stream does not dry up completely.

I suppose I should count myself lucky, but I have no idea of what I can do beyond keeping myself alive.

I’m doing my A to Z blogs from my books, both characters and background information. For characters I’ll introduce them quickly, say what point of time they’re talking from since their situations change drastically through the books, and let them talk. Background information will vary according to what I’m talking about. All of these blogs will be scheduled to go live just after midnight Alaska time.

Jarn’s Journal Year 5 Day 133

Year 5 Day 133

I haven’t gone mapping every day, but today I found what I think is a huge river delta, as large as the one I found when I found the tideless sea. It’s not at all the same, though. The earlier delta was in a desert climate, the only water being the river itself. Vegetation was mostly plants that grew well with flooded roots, and generally not very tall within the delta itself, and limited to palms and other desert vegetation back from the delta islands.

This delta is rain forest, and from the air looks very much like any other rain forest: green, green, green. Different tree heights, different shades of green, but all green. The narrower watercourses are barely visible from the air, but they are there.

Even more exciting, I followed the outer coast for quite a distance to see how large the delta was, and I think the coast finally swings south beyond it. The delta seems to form a bump—quite a large bump—in a corner where the coast goes from trending east to trending south. I teleported to where I found the ocean off a desert coast far to the south, and this is indeed close to the same longitude. My map is beginning to show the shape of this continent.

WildDog is fascinating to watch, but I am reminded of my first impressions of Patches: destructive, messy, sharp teeth, good at getting over, around, or through barriers, and adorable. Except that Patches got over her messy stage much faster than WildDog (assuming he gets over it) and he is getting steadily more destructive. I have to admit his teeth aren’t quite as sharp as Patches’s were. Meerlat says he is a normal baby; Songbird and Giraffe are quite besotted with him. I am still wondering how he will interact with others of his species.

Jarn’s Journal is the fictional Journal of a fictional human-like alien stranded in Africa 125,000 years ago. His story is part of the back story of the Jarnian Confederation where Homecoming, Tourist Trap and Horse Power are set. You can read the whole Journal to date on my author site. Speaking of which, Horse Power will be free for three days on Amazon, starting midnight Pacific time March 16 (Saturday.)

Jarn’s Journal Year 5 Day 112

Year 5 Day 112

The coast has been running east for some time, though I am still far north of my initial landing site, and north of the equator. Its character has changed completely, from sand waves to a riot of green. It’s lucky I can levitate, as I have some real doubts as to whether I could penetrate this much vegetation on foot. I have caught glimpses of animals that have some remote resemblance to the people, and marked their location on the map I’m making. But I’m getting eager to finish the outline of this continent.

The coast must turn southward ahead somewhere, and meanwhile I can only observe a coast covered with trees. No doubt some are edible, and others are medicinal. But which? I have been taking samples back to Songbird and Meerkat, but with few exceptions, they can only say that these plants are unfamiliar.

I’m having better luck with the fruit, especially those varieties that the local animals obviously relish. They aren’t familiar, either, but some do appear to be edible. Meerkat is very cautious about sampling them, first binding them against her skin and then later eating a very small piece. After a few days she will ask me to bring more of that variety, and she will have begin to cook with it, or have all of us eat it. Some are truly delicious, and I have marked the locations of those trees. But this near the equator, the fruiting season seems to vary from tree to tree.

I am also getting wet. It seems to rain almost all the time here, so I don’t explore every day. Besides, it is getting entertaining to watch WildDog as he grows older.

Jarn’s Journal is the fictional journal of a fictional alien who was stranded in Africa roughly 125,000 years ago. He had befriended (and been accepted as a god, much to his annoyance) a group of primitive humans. While most are nomadic, three have appointed themselves as his acolytes and are staying near the shelter he has built himself near the spot where  the family groups come together shortly after the northward equinox. The Journal to date is on my Author site.

Jarn’s Journal Year 5 Day 50

Year 5 Day 50

How do I get myself into these things? At least Rain Cloud agreed to stand with me!

I verified that WildDog is Songbird’s child. (And Giraffe’s, though I am determined not to say anything that will puff him up any more than does being guardian to such a fine boy.) But Songbird still regards Rain Cloud as her shaman, and herself as a part of Rain Cloud’s group. So Rain Cloud accepted WildDog as a part of his clan, and I vouched that he was born into that group. And we both held him aloft between us for the recognition by the whole group. I hope that as he grows older he will not be treated differently because I took a part in his Naming.

I counted fifteen other children being Named, rarely more than one to a group. Rain Cloud’s group counted two including WildDog, and one other group also had two. There seemed a reasonable balance between boys and girls, and both were greeted with equal joy.

It is a good thing that Songbird waited until the last moment to make the adornments for WildDog, as he is growing so fast that her original plan for a shirt (really a piece of hide with a hole for his neck) would have been little more than a collar. As it was, the hide made him a garment of sorts, and between that, the white and red clay skin painting, and the token I gave him, he looked very impressive and quite definitely not like an animal.

Songbird painted me, too, and while I felt rather silly, I was at least far cooler than with the mask and leopard skin last year.

I even added a bit to the ceremony. Only the People control fire, and as symbol of this a child is passed through smoke as part of the Naming. I added a bit of the sweet-smelling sap to the fire, and the smoke had a fragrance Rain Cloud said was different from any he had smelled before. Privately, he asked if this could be a part of the ceremony from now on, so I find myself committed to another task for the People. At least finding the sap is no problem, as I know exactly where to get it.

I wonder what other treasures this world holds?

Jarn’s Journal Year 5 Day 24

If you’re looking for the World Building Blogfest Excerpt, scroll down or click on the logo to the left. However, Jarn’s Journal is also a part of the history of my science fiction universe, and is the basis for several holy books — much modified by priests, of course!

Year 5 Day 24

You’d think that by now I’d know that I haven’t a shred of artistic sense in my body. No, I had to try to decorate myself. Giraffe and Meerkat are too much in awe of me to laugh in my face, but Songbird could not suppress her giggles.

“Fine,” I said. “You decorate me. But I absolutely am not going to wear that mask and leopard skin!”

She fingered my skin, covered with splotches of the red-purple dye. “Can you get that off?”

Rather sullenly I felt out the structure of the dye and teleported it away. It took me a while – I’m not exactly expert in that kind of work – and while I was working at the problem, Songbird was drawing with a stick on a patch of dirt. She finished and began chewing a twig about the time my skin returned to its normal dark bronze color.

“Now, do you have more of that color? It’s different from any I’ve seen before. We’ll say it’s a holy color, just for you, and set it off with white.”

I handed her the rest of the shellfish dye, and she dipped the chewed twig into it and began painting a curving design on my inner thighs, the least visible part of my body. Gradually she extended her design over the rest of my body and face, now and then asking me to remove the dye in some small area she had painted by mistake. “There,” she said. By then it was night, and I went to one of the small glass windows I had made and looked at myself. The reflection was distorted, of course, but I was very definitely not an animal. And it was clearly adornment, the red dye and the white clay in a pattern that followed my body with symbols I had come to recognize.

“You do need a headdress,” she said. “Feathers, perhaps? I could braid them into your hair so they make a crest. And I should touch up the skin color, especially the white, just before the celebration.”

I rolled my eyes a bit, then thought of the sap. “Could you scent the feathers with this?”

At least it is better than the gear I have had to wear the last two gathers, and the sap should cover some of the other smells!

Jarn’s Journal Year 5 Day 15

 Year 5 Day 15

The vegetation is changing rapidly as I move farther south. I think I must be approaching the summer-wet zone as the shores are rapidly getting greener, though a green that looks somewhat wilted. Palm trees are reappearing, and where rivers flow out of the interior of the continent (as they do here) they are lined with trees.  When I levitate as high as I can while still being able to breathe, it looks as if the coast is bending west ahead of me. I am still far north and west of where I crashed, but the varying climates are starting to make sense.

I think I will curtail my further exploration, though if I am right about approaching a summer-wet area it will be much harder to map in a few moon-cycles than it is now. But I find I am looking forward far more than I expected to the return of the People to the lake shore. Meerkat and Songbird are frantically making adornments for all of us, though I certainly have enough from last year. Songbird, however, insists that I must have ornaments that suit my status as a god, and apparently last year’s won’t do.

Could I possibly convince them to limit their adornments of me to body paint, and concentrate on suitable decoration for WildDog? Or perhaps I could make myself some kind of jewelry? At least I am not going to wear that headdress or leopard skin cloak! They are far too hot!

Jarn’s Journal is the fictional journal of a human-like alien stranded on Earth, in Africa, 125,000 years ago. He has joined (and to his annoyance been accepted as a god) by a group of primitive humans he refers to as The People — their name for themselves. His story is the remote backstory of the Jarnian Confederation, in which my science fiction is set. His Journal to date is on my author website.

Jarn’s Journal Year 5, Day 2

Year 5, Day 2

Still the coast runs eastward, though now south as well. At least the rain has been left behind, though there is now no vegetation. Did I think I was following a desert shore before? I had no idea that such a large area as that now to my east could be so barren!  Sand, mostly, varied by a few rocks and distant hills. When the wind blows, it whips up sand and dust, carrying the dust far over the ocean, and I can no more fly than I could in a thunderstorm. When I can see anything, it is clear that the sand itself is piled into huge waves by the wind. Some days I can feel the sand blowing as I prepare to teleport to the coast, and just don’t bother.

The People should be returning soon, if I am right in thinking they arrive not too long after the northward equinox, what I have taken as the start of the year. Songbird is preparing for her baby’s recognition by the group. She has nagged Giraffe into killing a gazelle fawn, and is tanning the skin to a buttery softness to make little WildDog his first shirt. He’s never worn clothes, so she is dithering about how large to make them. Luckily this is an old problem for Meerkat, who has told Songbird quite firmly to wait until the last minute to see how much he grows. And to wait also to put them on him, as he is quite definitely not housebroken, and (unlike Patches) seems to have no instinct not to soil his sleeping quarters!

I am thinking I should take a day or two off mapping and check the edible date trees I have found, to see if any are ripe. I scooped out a little hollow near the desert coast and filled it with sea water, and the sun is evaporating it so quickly that I should have a good supply of salt to bring back. Obsidian can be collected at the last minute; I’ve found several good sources. Perhaps I should collect that for a parting gift?

Jarn’s Journal is the remote background of my science fiction universe. For all of Jarn’s Journal to date, see my Author site.

Jarn’s Journal Year 4 Day 330

Year 4, Day 330

The tideless sea does connect with the tidal sea to the west, though the connection is much farther west than I expected.

I’ve not been getting as far on my mapping as I was; there are too many thunderstorms. In general it’s not too bad in the morning, but as soon as I approach a storm, I head home. As a result, I don’t get very far on any given day.

Strait of Gibralter, NASA image. Spain to left.

Yesterday, however, I began seeing another landmass, very faint, to the north. The coast I was following bent north to meet it, and I feared I had come to the end of what might be only a colossal salt lake. But today I continued and found a relatively narrow strait between the coast I have been following and the one approaching from the north that leads to a slightly fresher sea with a much higher and longer swell. I cannot be absolutely sure this is the global ocean, but I went far enough to be sure it is quite large, somewhat less salty than the tideless sea, and that the current through the strait is primarily the pouring of the slightly fresher water into the sea I have been following. The climate along the shore has been suggesting for some time that more water is evaporating than is falling on the sea or running into it, so it makes sense that the water must be replenished somehow.

Little WildDog is two moons old. He seems to be developing physically at about the same rate as the computer says is normal for an infant R’il’nian, and now drags himself around the floor. He does not seem to understand speech as a R’il’nian infant would, but he does seem to recognize that it means something, and listens quite intensely when his mother is speaking. I suspect he will understand language before he is able to produce it. Certainly he babbles enough!

Songbird is asking me repeatedly when the People will return. I estimate about a moon cycle and a half, and I hope to at least have a good start on mapping the west coast of this continent by then. The weather should be drier once I turn south.

Jarn’s Journal gives some of the early history of the science fictional universe in which Homecoming and Tourist Trap are set. It is the fictional journal of a human-like alien stranded in Africa some 125,000 years ago. The journal to date is on my author site.

Jarn’s Journal Year 4 Day 295

Year 4, Day 295

Note to myself: never fly in a thunderstorm without setting up the parameters for an emergency teleport!

In fact, never fly in a thunderstorm, period. And check the weather at the spot you’re aiming for in a teleport!

I knew I was getting far enough north that I was getting into the fringe of the winter rain belt, but between sand and dead grass I hadn’t paid much attention. I followed the coast northward until it turned back toward the west, noting only vaguely that the shoreline was steadily getting not only more mountainous, but greener. The coastlines I’ve been passing must have owed part of their condition to drought, because when I aimed a teleport at where I’d been the day before, over the coast but far enough in the air to have a good view, I landed smack in the middle of a violent updraft, surrounded by roiling clouds and lightning.

Lucky for me that it was an updraft! If I had arrived in a rain shaft, I would have been smashed into the ground before I had time to react. As it was, I spent several minutes frantically deflecting lightning and keeping myself aloft, too busy even to notice that I was soaked through. Then I was suddenly being pelted by hail. By that time I had recovered enough to realize I’d hit a downdraft and remember the “home” coordinates to get out of there!

I’d known that there was probably a winter-wet zone north of the desert; I just didn’t realize that once I followed the coast northward I’d be in the heart of it. As a result, I totally forgot that at least in theory, it is possible to check the weather at any point for which one has memorized the teleport coordinates. It wasn’t something I’m particularly practiced at, after all I hardly ever teleported at home. But I’d better see what’s in the computer and relearn that particular aspect of teleportation. I don’t want to land in another thundercloud!

Jarn’s Journal is the fictional journal of a fictional human-like alien stranded in Africa 125,000 years ago (early penultimate interglacial.) This is part of the remote prehistory of my novels Homecoming and Tourist Trap. The journal to date is at my author site.