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Sam let out a sigh as he put down the stack of papers in front of him. Compared to reptilian technology, human methods of transmitting information were quite limited. If he were in Et Serpentium, he wouldn’t have to read, interpret, and memorize everything. It was much easier to connect to a stone that had information stored on it and absorb it all with his awareness. Unfortunately, since the people working under him were humans who hadn’t yet unlocked their Sahasraras, Sam had to study their papers to understand the results they had achieved. It was tedious, but at least, it wasn’t difficult. He had to study in many lives, and he had even become a professor in several of them, but the math was still a slog to get through.
Luckily, even though the exploration of the higher dimension was a slog, the progress being made was steady, albeit slow. With Werchbite’s snapper repellants, the test subjects didn’t have to worry about being eaten—not that they were told being eaten was a potential consequence of joining the expedition. With all the employees of the company working on the same goal with an unlimited amount of funds behind them, it was simply a matter of time for a breakthrough to occur. With every foray into the higher dimension, Sam and his company learned a little bit more.
“Why are we doing this?” Birdbrained asked. “I know you want to go to the higher dimension, but Sam, have you taken time to consider why we, higher-dimensional beings, descended to Oterra instead of staying up there?”
“Oterra is still fresh for you,” Sam said, turning his head away from his desk. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re down here for the same reason I want to go up there. You’re bored with what you know, and Oterra can alleviate your boredom.”
“That’s….” Birdbrained fell silent, not even letting out a squawk. “So, what? You’re going to explore the higher dimension until you’re bored of it?”
“That’s all life is about,” Sam said and turned his gaze back onto his desk. “Experiencing things.”
“How can that be all that life is about?” Birdbrained asked. “Life is about having fun, and you can have fun doing things you’ve already done before as long as you’re with the right company.”
“You’re not going to change my mind,” Sam said.
“If I keep at it, I will,” the colorless eagle said and jumped off of Sam’s desk before clumsily waddling across the floor, its talons clacking against the marble. “You know what they say; it only takes one single moment of enlightenment to realize how dumb dissolving yourself because someone, who hates you, suggested it.”
“I didn’t, but thanks for informing me,” Sam said and picked up another paper.
Birdbrained stared at Sam, but he didn’t pay the eagle any mind. The eagle puffed up its chest as it inhaled through its beak. Birdbrained’s wings spread outwards, and the eagle let out a horrendous squawk that reverberated within the room, causing the walls to shake. “I’m bored! Bored, bored, bored!”
“Then get out,” Sam said, not turning away from his paper. When training an animal, one had to learn to ignore their outbursts lest the animal comes to believe having an outburst would bring about the results it wanted. “No one’s stopping you.”
“As if!” Birdbrained said and pointed its wing at the Mother. “Have you forgotten about her? The moment we leave your side and split off on our own, we’ll be swarmed and killed by blue avians.”
Sam poked the Mother with a telekinetic finger, his body not moving in the slightest.
“My children wouldn’t do that to you,” the Mother said.
“You heard her,” Sam said, speaking towards his desk; however, the sound seemed to travel directly into the eagle’s ears. “They won’t mob you when you go about doing your business.”
“I heard her, but I can’t trust her,” Birdbrained said. “Those blue avians already helped her take down Nwaps, and she didn’t feel one iota of remorse.”
“You’re cuter than Nwaps,” Sam said. “You’ll be fine.” He glanced at the unamused eagle. “Think about it. Blue avians have feathers, and you have them too, so they’ll treat you nicer than they did Nwaps. Nwaps didn’t have feathers.”
“I liked you a lot better before you matured,” Birdbrained said. “You used to be a lot more open, but now, you’re a stubborn cow. If I go off on my own and get mauled by blue avians, you’ll miss me. The graylings won’t listen to you, and then what will you do? Treat your subordinates the same way you treat my graylings? They’ll protest against you.”
“Do you want to take Manga with you?” Sam asked. “They’ll protect you.”
“No!” Birdbrained said. “Haven’t you ever heard of alone time? I need some, and it won’t be alone time if this massive lug of wool is following me around.”
“Honestly,” Sam said and turned to look at the eagle, “this sounds like your problem, not mine. You want to be alone, but you’re too paranoid to go off on your own.”
“It’s not paranoia when I’m right,” the colorless eagle said. “How about this? Have the Mother imprison all the blue avians.” Birdbrained tilted its head to the side and almost fell over from the action. “I have an even better idea; you should imprison all the blue avians whether the Mother agrees or not. Show her who’s boss.”
“They won’t like that very much,” Sam said.
“So?” Birdbrained asked. “You have to decide. Do you care more about the blue avians, or do you care more about me?”
“Hey,” the Mother said, inflating herself like a balloon to make her presence larger. “You know what happened to the last familiar of Sam that acted up. Why are you being like this? Do you want Sam to get rid of you too?”
Birdbrained turned its head towards the octopus and paused. After a bit, the eagle said, “Sam wouldn’t get rid of me.”
“Really?” the Mother asked. “You don’t seem so sure about that. Nwaps could’ve been very useful to Sam’s cause, even more useful than you, but what happened? The tapeworm no longer resides in this plane of existence, and it was also booted out of the subconscious expanse, the region that was basically its home ground.”
“Besides,” Sam said, “don’t you also concurrently exist in the higher dimension? You’re here, but you’re also up there piloting this eagle’s body like it’s an avatar. Shouldn’t you get plenty of time to yourself in the higher dimension?”
Birdbrained fell over backwards, sitting on its tailfeathers as it extended its legs forward. “Fine,” the eagle said. “Do what you want, Sam.”
Sam had no problem listening to the eagle’s words since doing what he wanted was his original plan. “I will,” he said, not bothering to look in Birdbrained’s direction. “You should too. What’s the worst thing that could happen if the blue avians do decide to eliminate you? You can always descend to Oterra again, can’t you?”
“Not with the Mother watching out for me,” Birdbrained said. “If you actually manage to sublimate yourself and become a higher-dimensional being, you’ll understand my troubles.”
A frown appeared on Sam’s face as the eagle gave up and silently waddled over to a corner of the room where it sat down like a beggar and closed its eyes, its ruffled feathers and uneven downy plumes making the eagle look as if it had gone through a harsh ordeal. Sam couldn’t help but mull over the eagle’s words. Since he was a lower-dimensional being compared to his familiars, and it was easier to see things from a higher vantage point, perhaps, he really was blind to the situation and the Mother was a conniving octopus waiting to get rid of him at the right time. However, wasn’t what he was doing, exploration of the higher dimension, an answer to that problem? If he could become a higher-dimensional being or properly explore the higher dimension, then he’d be able to see things on the same level as his familiars. At least, that’s what he thought.
A piercing sound entered Sam’s mind, and the frown on his face deepened. The Mother had provided—out of goodwill or as a method to gain Sam’s trust—a calamity detector, one similar to the ones the blue avians had used to detect Sam’s familiars. Sam had established a connection with the calamity detector, so when it rang, he knew a calamity had descended along with its location, which was surprisingly close. Sam stood up and walked through a dimensional speck, appearing in the underground lab where the higher-dimension exploration was taking place.
Sam spread out his All-Seeing Gaze and located the calamity within an instant. It wasn’t very difficult to find considering it was growing on one of the test subjects. Dozens of roots were crawling and spreading on the elderly man’s skin from a dark-purple seed atop the man’s head. Sam sent his aura forth, wrapping it around the plant and telekinetically pried it off the test subject, causing tiny spots of blood to appear on the elderly man where the roots had pierced his skin.
“Sam?” Wendy’s voice asked from the ceiling where the speakers were located.
Sam turned his head to look at the glass window. Wendy was standing on the other side with a frown on her face. Sam nodded at Wendy before exiting the room and walking around to enter through the researcher’s side with the plant floating behind him. The plant wanted to struggle, but it couldn’t move even the tiniest bit with Sam’s aura pressing in on it from all directions, suspending its motions.
“What is that?” Wendy asked after the doors closed behind Sam.
“A calamity,” Sam said.
Wendy recalled the last calamity humanity had faced: the Surtakatul. Compared to that massive monstrosity, the plant floating in the air behind Sam looked cute. Considering it was still just a germinating seed with only its roots and no stem or leaves, Wendy decided against questioning Sam’s judgement of labeling the plant as a calamity. What if it grew a stem and leaves that ate people and absorbed their powers? It’d be appropriate to call it a calamity then.
“What is it doing here?” Wendy asked. “Where did it come from?”
“Probably from the higher dimension,” Sam said and used his All-Seeing Gaze to look at the marble slabs recording the experiences of the test subjects. “As for what it’s doing here, I’m not sure, but it can’t be anything good.”
Wendy frowned. If calamities came from the higher dimension, wasn’t exploring the higher dimension asking for trouble? If Sam hadn’t showed up, and the seed had time to bloom into whatever monstrosity it was going to turn into, would she be able to stop it? Most likely not. This job was a lot more dangerous than she had thought; as such, she had to do something about it. Wendy stared Sam directly in his eyes. “I’d like a pay raise.”
“Fair enough,” Sam said. When asking someone to do dangerous things, it was only right to give them extra hazard pay, and having to lead a program that had a low chance of spawning calamities could be considered dangerous. “I’ll order some blue avians to stand watch here as well. They should keep you safe from calamities.”
Raindu crawled out of Sam’s shirt and stood on his shoulder, the ferret looking at the dark-purple seed. Its roots were green and supple; if someone were to tie them into knots, they’d bend quite easily without snapping.
“What?” Sam asked, looking at the ferret. “Are you interested in this thing? Do you know what it is?”
“I don’t,” Raindu said. “All the creatures from the higher dimension capable of descending are unique, unless they can clone themselves like Nwaps.” The ferret pointed at the seed. “You can ask it directly.”
Sam glanced at the Mother, but the octopus didn’t seem like it was going to refute or add anything to Raindu’s words. Sam focused on his Sahasrara, forming a connection with the purple seed. Rage and vitriol filled Sam’s mind; there were no words, but Sam could feel the overwhelming resentment pouring out of the seed, polluting his mind with dark swirls of colors he couldn’t name but were reminiscent of red and black hues. It didn’t seem like peaceful communication could be possible, so Sam focused on his Manipura, and his aura wrapping around the seed condensed, compressing and squeezing the calamity until its outer shell and roots cracked, shattered, and imploded, forming a tiny sphere oddly similar to a nugget of rabbit droppings.
“Wow,” Raindu said. “That was violent.”
Sam shrugged. “It didn’t want to chat,” he said, “and I sensed nothing but hostility from it.”
“That’s most pests for you,” the Mother said. “A lot of them can’t be reasoned with, so it’s easier to eliminate them all on sight.”
Sam grunted, acknowledging the Mother’s words. “So, this thing”—he gestured towards the sphere—“showed up in Oterra by following that man’s”—he pointed at the test subject on the other side of the window—“trail?”
“Most likely,” the Mother said. “Your test subjects might be exploring the higher dimension, but they’re also acting as giant beacons. They might be able to avoid tiny predators with Werchbite’s nifty invention, but smarter and more curious ones will see through your snapper repellant.” The Mother deflated, resting against Sam’s clothes. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll attract a whole gang of pests like your familiars.”
Sam stroked his bare chin. Although it sounded dangerous to invite calamities to Oterra, with him and the blue avians around to squash the ones that showed their faces, it wasn’t a problem; it was just a little bit more work for him and the Mother’s children. A wiggling sensation drew Sam’s attention, and he focused his All-Seeing Gaze on the nugget he had created, the condensed seed. It was still alive, and roots were growing out of it; though, they couldn’t get very far because Sam’s aura prevented them from moving. Sam raised an eyebrow before concentrating on his Sahasrara, using it to connect once more with the broken seed. The angry emotions were duller than the previous time, and Sam had a brilliant idea.
“Are you going to interrogate every calamity that shows up?” Raindu asked as the seed floated in front of Sam’s face.
“Why wouldn’t I?” Sam asked. “If I can get them to record their experiences inside of a stone slab, then it’d be a good source of information.” His eyes narrowed at the ferret. “Why don’t you contribute what you know as well?”
“You already know why,” Raindu said. “Don’t ask again.”
Sam shrugged. “I’m testing to see if Birdbrained’s methods really work or not.”
“I’m busy with things, bye,” Raindu said and slipped inside of Sam’s shirt. “I’ll come again another time.”
Sam shook his head. He had thought about drawing upon his familiars’ experiences, but they refused to participate, saying it’d reveal information about themselves they didn’t want others to know—and especially not the Mother, Vercedei had to emphasize—so, Sam could only put aside the idea of interrogating his familiars. Now that he possessed a higher-dimensional being that wasn’t his familiar, there was going to be a lot to learn through a, hopefully, peaceful cultural exchange. If he expanded the scope of the exploration, wouldn’t it be easy for him to catch more calamities?