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The first thing Sam noticed about the cafeteria was the human inside of it. Duke seemed to be doing just fine after being dropped off in Silva Volucris, so Sam didn’t have to feel guilty about leaving the man all alone—not that he should’ve in the first place considering he was accompanying Duke because of the payment. Sam did consider warning Duke about the relaxing plants placed inside of the food, but was there a point? It wasn’t like Duke could separate the plants from the meal, and the man had to eat, so not knowing might be better than knowing.
As for Sam, there was no way he was going to eat a drugged dish. It made the mantids feel comfortable with suffering; obviously, the drugs must contain some serious mind-altering effects, maybe irreversible ones too.
“Get me one of those,” Vercedei said as the illusion of Sam pointed at the table. It was a bit strange to see his own arm move without his input, and it was even stranger for his arm, which he knew was by his side, to actually feel like it had been raised up. Even though he knew it was an illusion, it still felt real.
“I was going to,” Greg said. “It’s the only thing we can get.” The mantid turned its body around to face the entrance of the cafeteria. There was a bear-sized, pig-shaped hole in the wall beside the door, and the mantid’s head turned to look at the bear-sized pig standing beside Sam. Breaking the walls of the cafeteria was highly frowned upon, but neither the pig nor the human showed any signs of remorse. The usual punishment, fixing what they broke, wouldn’t apply to Sam because who would trust in the structural integrity of the wall after it was repaired by a human? He’d be punished by being forced to repair the wall, and afterwards, the construction ants would break down his work and put up their own. It was easier to skip the middle process, so Greg and the other mantids kept their mouths shut.
Sam took a seat while Greg went to stand in line. Luckily, it moved quickly, and the mantid was back with two metal spheres. The mantid passed a sphere to Sam before taking a seat, which was really just squatting such that its lower belly rested on a cushion. Greg opened its mandibles and placed the metal sphere between them, rotating the ball such that the straw coming out of it was pointing at its mouth parts.
Sam glanced down at the snake covering his mouth, and his skin crawled as the snake slithered up his face, making room for the metal sphere’s straw. The snake never moved aside unless it really wanted him to eat, and Sam’s lips curved downwards into a frown. There was food in Raindu’s fur, or whatever dimension the ferret stored things in, so it wasn’t a necessity for Sam to eat the mantids’ cuisine, but since he wanted to experience all life had to offer, why would he turn down this chance to potentially poison himself?
Sam placed his lips around the straw and sucked. A glob of savory thick sauce with small shredded chewy bits entered his mouth, washing over his tongue. He had expected it to taste disgusting, mostly because he didn’t think he shared a similar palate with insects. It turned out he was wrong, and he found their food delicious. Maybe it was the minced plants inside that were supposed to reduce suffering working their magic; some drugs could be absorbed in the mouth.
“How is it?” Greg asked, taking a break from its meal. “Fit for human consumption?”
“It’s good,” Sam said, speaking for himself for the first time in a while. “Very savory.”
“Your voice sounds different,” Greg said. “The food must’ve been so good it cleared up a blockage.” The mantid continued to drain the sphere, not stopping to chew.
Sam stared at the sphere in his hands before bringing it back up to his lips. Since it didn’t taste bad, he didn’t really have anymore reservations about eating whatever he was eating. As for the plants mixed inside of the meal, Vercedei was clearly encouraging him to experience their full effects.
Sam didn’t know when it hit him, but at some point during the meal, his perspective changed. The world he knew didn’t seem to be that important. What did it matter what kind of life he lived? In the end, he was going to die, and after a brief passage of time, say two thousand years, no one would remember he ever existed. All traces of him would vanish, unless he had kids, and they managed to propagate his lineage. If the blue avians killed him now, it was no different from him dying of old age, so why should he worry when he could be happy? And he was feeling extremely happy right now despite nothing having changed about his situation. It must’ve been his shift in perspective—or the drugs in the food.
Greg finished emptying the contents of its sphere before turning its attention onto Sam. “All done?” the mantid asked. It stared at the sphere, which was almost as wide as Sam’s chest, and looked down at Sam’s expanded stomach. “Are you still hungry? I can get you another if you’d like.”
“I’ll take one for the road,” Vercedei said, speaking for Sam.
“Oh, you don’t want to do that,” Greg said. “It rots quickly if you leave it out for too long.”
“It was fresh?” Vercedei asked. “What exactly was it?”
“Ground grubs and sauce,” Greg said.
Sam didn’t think he was above eating grubs, not when it was the main meal of every mantid; however, he was sure he’d feel a bit queasy upon seeing the food source. “Can I see how it’s made?” Vercedei asked, finding a chance to make Sam uncomfortable while giving him experiences as well.
“If that’s what you’d like, sure,” Greg said. “There aren’t any crystals involved, so even if you touch something, you won’t ruin our food-production lines.”
“Gregor told you about my ability, huh?” Vercedei asked. It was no wonder; the poor mantid had probably been interrogated once the rest of the mantids discovered he had failed his job of nurturing the world seed.
“Yes,” Greg said. “As such, even though we’ll treat you with hospitality, we’re not going to allow you anywhere near the malachite of history.”
“That’s probably for the best,” Vercedei said. “I don’t want to destroy any more things of importance than I already have.”
Meanwhile, the black ferret on Sam’s shoulder, one that wasn’t detectable thanks to Werchbite’s illusion, hopped off and scampered away. If it could steal the GMC from the graylings, it could steal the mantids’ history rock. As long as Sam hung out around Greg’s group, no one would suspect him once the malachite vanished; he’d have the perfect alibi. Thus, Sam continued his tour of Silva Volucris, following Greg deeper into the cafeteria where puppy-sized ants were transferring food from a pot into the metal spheres.
“Are these ants like servants for mantids?” Vercedei asked.
“Yes,” Greg said. “Sursusu aren’t very bright, but for the tasks that they can learn, they become better at them than anyone else over time.” The mantid gestured at the working ants. “From the day they matured, they’ve been packing meals. They’ll continue packing meals until they die of natural causes. If there aren’t any replacement sursusu to take their place, their lives can be extended through external means, but that’s cruel, and we try our best not to do that.”
“It must be nice knowing your purpose in life,” Vercedei said. “But don’t they ever get bored of doing the same tasks day in and day out?”
“They’re not smart enough to feel boredom,” Greg said. “As long as they’re rewarded with food for completing their tasks, they’ll keep repeating the same actions for more food.”
Sam followed Greg past the ants. Behind Sam, there was a wooly pig, which was destroying things as its massive body walked after its owner. Three ants had gathered at some point, following behind the wooly pig to repair the destruction it was causing in real time. After a bit of walking, Sam arrived in a metal room where ants were picking up squirming, white grubs, each one about the size of a human baby. The grubs didn’t have limbs or even eyes to see from. They fell from the ceiling, landing on the ground, where the ants picked them up and transferred them into a contraption that made whirring sounds and ejected a slurry into a large bucket.
“Where do the grubs come from?” Vercedei asked as Sam looked up at the ceiling. There were multiple holes in the metal dome, and with Sam’s All-Seeing Gaze, he saw a series of tunnels extending upwards.
“Eggs,” Greg said. “Ever since the technology was developed to preserve the lives of mantid women after laying their clutch of eggs, there’s been an overpopulation issue. So, the extra grubs are eaten before they’re given a chance to become sentient.”
Sam stared up at the ceiling some more before lowering his head. Well, if insects wanted to eat baby insects, who was he to judge? They did taste good.
“I think I’ve seen enough,” Vercedei said. “I’ve actually had quite a long journey, so how about you take me to the sleeping quarters? Mantids do sleep, right?”
“We do,” Greg said. “The day is still long. Are you sure you already want to retire?”
“We’ll see,” Vercedei said. “It depends on how comfortable your beds are.”
***
The beds were very comfortable, much to Sam’s surprise. The bed was made of metal, round like an egg with a shallow curved indent where moss and other unidentifiable—by Sam—materials were gathered to make a soft mattress of sorts. The moss was soft, lush, and surprisingly fluffy. Sam lay on his back and stared up at the ceiling, relaxing on the first real bed he had set foot in in days. It would’ve been a more enjoyable experience if there weren’t any graylings wandering around the room he had been given, observing the new sights around them. There were a lot of graylings, about three thousand, and the mantids had given them a whole building to stay, but it wasn’t large enough for each one to get their own room.
Sam hadn’t expected the mantids to be so hospitable, and he couldn’t help but wonder if they were trying to lower his guard to take him out later. For a species of killer insects, they were very cordial. Perhaps they were cordial because they belonged to a species of killer insects; after all, they were always armed with scythes. They could all kill each other at any moment, no? It wouldn’t hurt to be friendly in a society like that.
Sam turned his head to the side, looking at the wooly pig directly in its eyes. The pig was yellow all over, including its eyes. It mangalitsaed at him, and Sam exhaled through his nose. The pig despised procrastination, but that didn’t mean it’d push Sam to work when he had to rest, and the pig was advising Sam to sleep now, so he’d have energy for what came next. Once Raindu stole the malachite with the mantids’ history inscribed on it, the mantids would definitely suspect him, and he had to be ready.
Although the wooly pig’s idea made sense, Sam didn’t think he had to think too hard about escaping from the mantids once Raindu stole their fancy rock. He’d get on Manga’s back, and the wooly pig that could disintegrate everything in its path would run him to safety. “You’ll protect me, right?” Sam asked the wooly pig through the use of his throat chakra since his mouth was still covered by a twin-headed snake. “Can I count on you?”
The wooly pig let out its four-syllable-long cry, assuring Sam it’d always have his back unless he was doing something monumentally stupid.
***
Duke exhaled, a smile appearing on his face. A nice mantid had decided to take him in, give him a place to stay at no cost. If he were more worldly, he’d know nothing ever came for free, but he didn’t question the mantid’s kindness, not even suspecting if it had an underlying motive. Instead, he lay in his mossy mattress some more before sitting up. According to the mantid, Grigar, it was safer for him to stay within her room than to use the public housing because he might be mistaken for prey and eaten on accident.
Duke sat up. To address the problem of him being suspected as prey, he had thought about the solution all night and came to a realization. All he had to do was disguise himself as a mantid. Even if the disguise failed upon closer inspection, did it matter? As long as the first impression he left on the mantids was that of not prey, then they wouldn’t reflexively pounce on him. “Grigar?” Duke called out as he climbed out of bed. “Are you there?”
A scuttling noise entered Duke’s ears, the sound of a mantid’s feet clacking against the floor. “Yes, Duke?” Grigar asked, the large praying mantis compound eyes staring at all of Duke at once. “Did you need help with anything? Are you hungry, perhaps?”
“A meal would be great,” Duke said, his thoughts turning back to the ground grubs he had eaten yesterday. “But also, I’m looking for a mantid disguise like a costume of sorts. Do you know where I can find any?”
“You’ll need more than that if you don’t want to be mistaken for prey,” Grigar said and nodded its head. “You’ll need some perfume as well. Quite frankly, you smell like meat, not mantid. I’ll help you with that, but let’s have a meal together first.”
“Sure,” Duke said as he followed the mantid out of the room. Duke followed Grigar out of the apartment, which was one of many atop a sloped, green hill, metal spheres dotting the surface where the mantids had constructed their buildings. They made their way down to the cafeteria where Duke once again saw Sam. Duke thought about waving, but he remembered how abruptly Sam had left after completing the mission. Since Sam didn’t want anything to do with Duke, why would he lower himself for Sam’s attention?
Duke followed Grigar onto the line, and soon, there was a metal sphere in his hands. He placed his lips against the straw and drank, chills running down his spine as he closed his eyes. Why did the contents taste so good? It was like he was born to eat this meal, and now that he accomplished his lifelong purpose, there was only bliss.
“Duke,” Grigar said. “Are you done?”
Duke snapped out of his daze and nodded at the mantid, placing the sphere onto the ground where an ant would pick it up later. “It’s time to get a costume, right?” He stood up. “Afterward, can we go to the botanical gardens? I want to see what kind of plants are native to this land.”
“Of course,” Grigar said and turned to walk away. “Come on. Let’s go.”
Sam watched Grigar and Duke walk out of the cafeteria. Duke knew what he was doing when he hired someone to escort him to Silva Volucris. The man had adapted to the place so quickly, obtaining a mantid helper faster than Sam had expected. Well, since Duke proved to be more capable than the image of Duke Sam had in his mind, then there really was no need to feel any hang-ups about leaving Duke alone in a foreign country.
“Lucky guy,” Greg said, noticing Sam’s gaze. “Grigar is quite the looker. If it was her ripping my head off and eating it, I might not even mind.”
“You mean Grigar is courting Duke?” Vercedei asked, never turning down a chance to gossip.
“It looks like it,” Greg said. “See how she pays attention to the other female mantids eyeing him? I don’t know how sensitive your nose is, so maybe you can’t tell she’s already marked Duke with her pheromones.”
“Do you think she just wants to eat him?” Vercedei asked. “Once they get married, she can legally eat his head, right?”
“That’s a possibility,” Greg said. “You can never tell with people. Whether they’re out to harm you or help you, it’s all uncertain until it happens. For example, we’re not quite sure if your intentions are as friendly as you appear to be, or if you’re hiding sinister intentions under a guise of friendliness.”
“I’m only here to gain some experience in life and to fix my mistakes,” Vercedei said. “Like I said, I need to make sure these graylings have a good home, one where they can survive without being hunted.”
“Because you ruined their way of life,” Greg said.
“Yes,” Vercedei said. “Precisely. Since I’ve wronged them, isn’t it up to me to make it up to them?”
“By giving us mantids the responsibility of taking care of the Anunaki you wronged,” Greg said.
“Is that a no?” Vercedei asked. “You can put them to work. Treat them like your worker ants.”
“It’d be easier to treat them like grubs,” Greg said. “If you want us to work for you to take care of them, shouldn’t you offer something to us in return?”
“What can I get you?” Vercedei asked. “I’m just an individual, but if it’s within my capabilities, I’ll do it.”
“Great,” Greg said. “All you have to do is one task for us, and we’ll take in your Anunaki refugees. We’ll also forgive you for taking our world seed.”
“It must be a pretty big task,” Vercedei said. “What do you want me to do?”
“Destroy the blue avians’ calamity detector,” Greg said. “It’s made from a crystal. Your talent should be able to get rid of it just like it got rid of our world seed, right?”
“I’ll do it,” Vercedei said, not giving Sam any time to think about it. “It’s something I needed to get rid of anyway.”