Cosmic Dash: “Son of the Soil”

This is one of many short stories from the universe of Cosmic Dash. You can always discover more at the project hub, including a dedicated series timeline.

“Son of the Soil” is one of the first short stories produced in the Cosmic Dash setting, providing further insight into the nature of Guugel, while providing additionally information about Blu. This story would have taken place prior to volume 2 of the comic.

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Guugel came out of his rest cycle slowly, his lone eye staring at the ceiling as he lay in his bed; the only noises he heard were the warm hum of the ship and the death rattle that was Kracker’s snoring. The concept of bed was still so alien to him, and he would dwell on how artificial it all seemed when he came out of his rest state. In their own strange way, beds did have a tint of familiarity. Back home on Ottwa, his people would rest in the communal peat rooms. There, they would slow down their bodies while lying upon the soft plants. Guugel did feel a twinge of familiarity and homesickness every time he woke up inside the crew bunks. He kept expecting to see the greenery of his youth. He continued to stare at the ceiling, which loomed above him, a ceiling which seemed miles away, as far as he could tell at such an early hour. His mind wandered as he rested on his gigantic bunk in the cavernous room.

Most of the ship was gigantic to him. He wasn’t quite sure how Marken handled it; Marken was just as small as he was. Whenever he was around Marken, Guugel would feel flashes of business-related panic; there would be worries of failure, and loss, and disappointment, with just a hint of sad longing. However, more overwhelming was the love of food and cooking. Guugel had always picked up on the subtle emotional vibrations of other beings. Then he learned to avoid them entirely because, most often, they would overwhelm him. He had made his choice to explore the stars… unusual for most Wot. He wouldn’t let someone else’s sad feelings spur him toward homesickness and self-doubt. He’d made his choice to leave the safety of Ottwa, and he was determined to see as much of the galaxy as he could.

The rest of his bunkmates were still asleep and actively dreaming as the wot prepared for his day. He would get small flashes of the abstract imagery of their dreams, but there were times when their meanings were unmistakable. He did not want to invade their dreams, but the dreams were adamant about invading his mind. 

As usual, Kracker’s unconscious mind was flashing the energetic imagery of the Zero-G races; the dream felt almost lustful, as though he was opening up the throttle of a technically advanced racer, just like the ones he was always watching on the GIN. Kracker was addicted to racing and the pursuit of speed, as evidenced by most of his flying when he could get away from the pre-laid routes. 

Guugel turned to Dorian and noticed the young Grey was tossing fitfully as he recalled a sad memory involving a sibling. Guugel promptly tuned it out. All he had seen was the presence of three Grey children in a hallway. The oldest tried to talk to one who was grudgingly acknowledging him, down the hall, and the youngest was crying. Guugel felt this was Dorian, and promptly tried to flush the image from his mind.

Most unusual was Dash, always Dash. Dash always understood Guugel and was one of the few individuals the Wot had met who could actually hear his conscious projections. As usual, though, Dash’s dreams were indecipherable; the mental equivalent of static. Tonally, Guugel sensed conflict: rage, fear, yet some tang of optimism? Puzzling.

Guugel began his day as he always did, with a few moments at his footlocker. He popped it open to inspect his collection of soils. As he traveled from planet to planet, he would take a sample and store it in the footlocker. His people had an intimate connection with the soil. The weary Wot dug through his small bags of earth, looking for one he hadn’t tried in a while. He spied Poenva. He unsealed the bag and poured some of the grit into his hand. Poenva’s soil was fairly acrid. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant, though, as the planet was full of life and aged stone. It felt old, and old soil was always of the most comfort. In a way, he just needed that pick-me-up.

Soil still in hand, Guugel sealed up the Poenva bag, set it back into the footlocker, and shut it. He took a moment to make sure he didn’t wake any of his coworkers and made his way to the fresher. Along the way, he spotted the robot, Blu, jumping from seat to seat in the living area. The small robot paused for a second and waved. Guugel nodded back. 

Despite the energy the robot showed, he felt old… far older than the ship. It was something that filled Guugel with curiosity most of the time, but curiosity was best avoided in the mornings. He stepped into the fresher and selected his custom settings. No laundry, no soap, 2-inch lukewarm water fill, high-luminosity lighting, and no air-dry. 

In seconds, the tub began to fill and shut off at exactly 2 inches. Guugel dipped a finger into the water to make sure the hygiene system did not have the occasional hiccup it was known for. Satisfied with the temperature, he tossed his small handful of dirt into the water. It made a plunk, and a cloud of coppery brown billowed out from the surface of the water down to the bottom of the tub. Guugel stepped in, mixed the dirt in with his feet, and finally lay down, his back resting against the plasteel flooring of the tub. He spent a few minutes soaking. He enjoyed the texture of the earthy water. Combined with the bright light, this would be just perfect to keep him going for his day. Everyone else had breakfast. He had this.

A few minutes later, Guugel returned from the hygiene room, feeling refreshed. He made his way back to his bunk and had just reached the foot of his bed when he noticed his footlocker was open. He promptly shut the locker, but then grew curious. He opened it again and pored through his bags of soil, but he could not find Ottwa. He searched through several times, frantically tossing bags out of the locker. Reeling with shock, he fell backward onto the thinly carpeted floor. His arms fell to his sides, and his palms found themselves on the threadbare flooring. As his fingers gripped the carpet, he found the telltale signs of dirt on his fingertips. He whipped upright and held the loose grains close to his eye. It was Ottwan, particularly, that of his former village. He peered around, noticing more bits of soil on the carpet. He began to follow them.

The trail led him down the hall to the lower common room, where he had seen Blu earlier. Now Blu was absent. Blu was harmless, mostly; he was known to take things and hoard them, and generally, this wasn’t a problem. Everyone would just find their stuff dangling out of a vent eventually… but this was a bit more personal.

The trail of grains led to the couch in the lounge but stopped at the cushions. Guugel took the cushion and ripped it from the couch. No sign of the Ottwan dirt. Nor were there signs under the couch. He placed the cushions back on the seat and peered around, annoyed that his trail ran cold.

Then, he remembered the vents and Blu’s love of skittering through them.

He looked upward. Six feet from the top of the couch was a vent cover that was clearly loose. Guugel climbed up onto the couch and jumped as high as his small legs would allow, but to no avail. Annoyed, he clenched his fist and hit the wall. To his surprise, the vent opened as a thin wire rolled out from within, onto his head. Dash had mentioned that he’d found makeshift rigging all over the ship, thanks to Blu.

He tugged at the wire, and it did not give way. He climbed up to the vent, brushing aside the cover, and pulled himself into the inner workings of the ship. Sure enough, he was greeted by several grains of the coveted soil. The vent was small, even for the diminutive wot, and he had to remain on his hands and knees. Unabated by the ironically cramped quarters, he pushed forward. The vents were dark and smooth. This was an utterly gloomy and artificial environment for him, and he already felt fatigued by it.

Alongside the darkened vents, he made out crude drawings. Blu had turned the inner-workings of the ship into his playground. It was too dark to see them in much detail, but he made out rudimentary versions of members of the crew along one side, and a long sequence of symbols on the other. Blu was telling a story, but that could wait.

The vent split into two after a while, and based on where he entered, Guugel suspected the paths took him to the cargo-bay or the engine room. He peered around, and spying an errant grain heading toward the engine room, he pressed onward. The temperature rose as he moved closer to the core mechanics of the ship. The heat was not intense, so much as thick and stifling. He knew he couldn’t remain for long, or else he would dry out. A light ahead of him grew in intensity with each crawling step, and when he broke the threshold, he found a large vent hub, filled with plant life, and Blu, who was sitting on an upside-down clay pot. The little robot waved at his guest.

The makeshift garden was fascinating. The plant-life had grown lush in the warm vents near the engine room, and the variety was quite shocking. Guugel wiped at his brow, partially to clear sweat, and partially in disbelief. He had nearly lost himself in awe when he remembered his purpose.

Guugel picked up some grains of the Ottwan dirt inside the room. He held them toward Blu. Blu tilted his head in response, curious. Guugel gestured again, pretending to open a bag, and then pouring the grains from one hand to another. He then pretended to open and close a footlocker several times. He would bring two level hands down several times in a smooth motion. Blu took a moment and then nodded, understanding. Blu hopped off the clay pot and knelt down next to it. He pointed to the pot and waved Guugel over. Guugel approached, uncomfortable in the heat. Blu pointed to his own kneeling stance, and Guugel followed through with his own.

Blu looked around a bit and then lifted the bottom of the pot, just slightly, almost gingerly. He nodded at Guugel and tilted the pot enough so that a smaller pot was clearly visible. The pot itself had been filled with dirt. He just noticed the distinct tang of the Ottwan soil.  He rubbed the side of his head a bit in exasperation until he noticed the mushroom. 

It was small, still juvenile in many ways. The mushroom was a light purple with a teal swirl along with the cap. The surface of the cap was smooth and rubbery, with a brilliant sheen. The mushroom resembled him. He marveled at it.

Blu picked up the larger pot and set it to the side while Guugel was still entranced by the mushroom. Blu grabbed a small watering can, once a Pommo can, and tapped Guugel’s shoulder. Guugel watched as the tiny robot poured for a few seconds. Blu finished and shook his finger at Guugel, pointing at the can several times. Guugel nodded. Content, Blu picked up the small pot and thrust it toward Guugel. Guugel held the pot for a moment and looked back at Blu, who had already begun trimming one of his plants. Guugel shook his head in disbelief and made the crawl back through the vents.

Back in the bunk room, everyone was still asleep. Kracker’s snoring had grown more ear-shattering, and instinctually, Dash and Dorian had each buried their heads into their pillows. Guugel looked around the room for a moment but finally decided that the best place for his mushroom was on top of his footlocker. He placed it there, and for a few moments, he was content. Then, quite suddenly, he pulled the mushroom off the footlocker, setting it to the side. He opened the lid and began to collect bags of dirt.

A few hours later, while moving through the vents, Blu arrived at the exit to the lower common room, usually his main thoroughfare. He was quite surprised to see several bags of soil waiting for him just inside the vent.

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Thank you for taking time to read this Cosmic Dash short story. You can always check out the series hub for more adventure or worldbuilding details. You comments, questions, and feedback are always welcome.