The holes seem to meet lead to a maze of tunnels or caves. They are very dark, often pitch black. I don't know whether both holes meet at some point, or whether they were dug by something or if they're natural occurrences. There definitely seem (or sound) like there are lifeforms within these holes, but I cannot see them or dare venture in too deep into the holes.
yung gizzard shad o㉨o
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Continuing the previous experiments, I decided today to give the moist towelette further material to absorb and react to. I've decided to conduct this experiment while the towelette is humming. Once again we have three liquids, but this time they are in petri dishes (so that it looks more scientific). Dish A: Blood. Dish B: Sweat. Dish C: Triple Action Citrus Fresh dish soap.
Dish A: The towelette threw itself directly onto the dish, completely absorbing the blood. As it twisted itself into shapes its color turned a surprisingly comforting pink. The pattern of white spaces on it seem to read "SREHF" (much to my surprise). The hum has become noticeably higher in frequency. It wrung itself out, but because I had forgotten to bring water, it only became a marbled red and pink. Then it absorbed the sweat. The towelette absolutely came alive, visibly vibrating. The hum became an outright melody. This time the pattern read "GNRONCKIE". The color did not change, although the marbled pattern became more pronounced upon re-wringing itself out.
The dish soap. Dipping a corner into this bright lime green viscous fluid, the towelette at first completely twisted itself into a spiral as it absorbed the the soap. Then, very suddenly, it flung itself wide open and spread itself flat. It seemed to go almost rigid for a second, and the vibrations stopped. The pattern read "LUIGLNTOEI". The hum, however, became something else entirely.:
Realizing my mistake of not providing the towelette with water, I scurried to find it some of the stuff and quickly brought it a full glass. As of this moment, the towelette is once again clean, but remains somewhat stiff and spread flat. It has stopped humming entirely. Although it now lays dormant, it was clearly either expressing a desire for, or foretelling the arrival of something. Something damp.
A gloomy valley that leads up to the outpost hill . It is speckled with mushrooms of peculiar, radiant colors. It's marshy, the many shallow pools that snake along the mossy floor make it hard to pass through without boots on. The sky seems to suddenly turn overcast whenever you step into the valley.
The mushrooms periodically discharge some sort of secretion through the volva at the base of the stem. Despite this, and the fusty and sour smell, they appear edible.
Thinking about Katie's new long range communication system idea, I figured it might be a nice to set up a large metal plate on the roof to contain the fires, and also some large lenses so we can focus that light right onto the base. We could set up a corresponding signaling tower near there too! Alas, I've no clue where we would be able to find such items.
I've set up some window planters to grow some greens in them. The outpost gets a lot of good sun. I've also set up a corner for the chickens and will spend the rest of the day setting up some rudimentary plumbing in case we ever need to pump up or down some water (like when, say, we've accidentally lit the outpost on fire trying to text someone back home).
During a supply run from home base to our construction site for the new outpost, I noticed that the bio-luminescent mushrooms growing on the ground in these swampy fields along the path seem to pump these shallow ponds full of nutrients. The ponds themselves are covered with and surrounded by plant life, which sadly can't be said for the soil. Despite the damp and seemingly fertile soil, the plant life only appears to be able to flourish on these vaguely luminous bodies of water. With this revelation I propose we start work on a hydroponic farm near our home where we can create some narrow canals that we can seed with these mushrooms and grow leafy greens to add to our slowly dwindling food supply.
I hope y'all like salad.
I think an outpost out there would be good for us, both in terms or exploring the area and setting up a far point where we can survey what's around. It should be very tall so we can see far and I think that high hill to the northeast in the horizon would be a good spot for it. We can make it about 6 meters tall without losing much structural integrity or balance so hopefully it'll withstand minor earthquakes should they happen. I'll start by making my way to the hill and leaving signs behind to mark the way.
As the previous host and companion of the moist towelette (not the owner, for "owning" a moist towelette would be akin to owning a human), I try to reminisce with it about our time together--as it laid in its pack of twelve and I tugged at the protective sheet on the packaging and gently pulled the towelette out and slowly rubbed it on the runes. Oh towelette, now covered in rune soot, do you think fondly of our time together? Your hum to my ears is so steadfast, so purposeful, yet so comforting.
If only I could decipher it.
If all projects require the same amount of labor, then let's squint into existence a luxury pyramid that physically emanates an aura of comfort and opulence so dense that you can see it and it slaps you in the face. It can have an indoor pool, and a really cozy room with padded walls and a sound system that plays lofi hip hop study radio on a loop. And a big kitchen stocked with stew. And a room for alpacas.