Wet Planet - Season 2, Episode 2

Transcript

Eurus: Damn it, fucking damn it. I’m getting nowhere with this. Just this - [typing noises] - fucking bullshit. 

Are they even trying?

Hi, this is Dr. Eurus, and I’m doing my best to talk to aliens with sonar. And it’s not working. If they can fix my sub they can at least send a dictionary, or so you’d think. 

A dictionary of course is written by someone with an understanding of both languages, which - obviously we don’t have one of those. At best they could give me an audio equivalent of the Voyager record. But even then, that is something that’s a lot easier to make and shoot into space than try to decipher when it lands in your backyard. I’ve got no reference point, and without a dialogue back and forth with a willing and helpful native speaker, I literally cannot translate what they’re saying. There is no way to do it. I think. I’m not a linguist.

What do slugs talk about, anyway?

Their signals almost certainly evolved in response to predators, like the birds. That drove the development of an interconnected network. But the jump from that to actual language is a big one. Early hominids probably developed a variety of calls in response to environment, like, there’s a predator, that’s the type of predator, I am here please fuck off, I am here please fuck me, et cetera. It’s hard to conceptualize what the snailiens would need to pass information about other than that very simple stuff. Bird, weather . . . whatever. 

The point is, monkeys give calls and it’s not language. Maybe this is as pointless as trying to speak ‘monkey’. 

[Sigh] I think I need to step away from this.

[Climbs out of the sub, stepping onto the rocks]

The sun is pretty hot still. Not as hot as the previous solar maximum, though. And now I see the other danger that’s slowly but surely creeping towards me: eventually Volturnus will cover the sun, and it’s going to get chilly over here. I wish I could catch this sunshine in a bucket, build a reservoir of it. But some things can’t be hoarded, only experienced as they come.

[Bird noises]

Hmm, the sky looks a little different in the horizon - a darker shade of blue. Clouds are moving in. High, high up I can see the silhouettes of a few birds heading towards the continent.

I’m - I’m a little anxious, because I just sent off a detailed report to the captain, and I’m wondering how he’ll react. Hmm. Could go either way. Might as well stare up at the sky, or down at the sea. 

Oh, actually, there’s something by the water line. Just a second.

[Footsteps]

[Excited] It’s a freaking shell - one of those little flat-bottom boat ones I saw before. The creature inside is dead. Dead and abandoned. Poor guy.

The tide is lowering, the water flowing back out to sea. There’s a lot of stuff being dragged along with it. Refuse, dead fish, a lot of floating organisms like plants or jellies that have weak locomotion and the fish tend to feed on. Some of these are getting stuck on the rocks themselves and wriggling their tiny little cilia around, trying to free themselves. The waves are rougher today, choppy.

Down at the very edge of the water wormlike things dive headfirst into the sand, a small roiling wave beneath the bigger ones. They’re, they’re burrowing down, anticipating the drought to come.

[Quieter] Interestingly, a few squiogs are here as well, hiding a bit beneath the water and behind rocks. They seem to be perfectly adapted to breathing and moving in water as well as dry land. Their funny little stalk eyes poke up just above the surface to stare at me. It’s a little creepy. 

Ignoring them, I think I’m going to try following the water down as it recedes. But first . . . this dead surfer is a great opportunity. If a smelly one. Ever have crab go bad in your fridge? It’s much, much worse.

I wanted to get a sample of the nerve tissue of one of the higher-order organisms, per a request of Stevens, and I have a few vials with me. I may turn the recording off though. I think this is about to get gnarly.

[Click]

Eurus: [Muttering as she dissects the surfer, squishy noises] Is this a nerve? Hm, maybe. I’m just going to take a couple pieces from both sides and maybe I’ll . . . 

[Radio click]

Ricketts: Hello?

Eurus: Hm  . . . oh, uh, what? Uh, Captain, can we, uh, talk later?

Ricketts: Very funny, Dr. Eurus. We need to talk now.

Eurus: Um, about what? 

Ricketts: About what?! About that message you sent! About the contact scenario!

Eurus: Yeah, I’m, I’m not sure if I’d call it that. 

Ricketts: Well I sure as hell don’t know what to call it! That’s what you all are for. I just fly the ship. And currently none of you are being very helpful in elucidating the situation.

Eurus: [Distracted, still dissecting] I mean, are we, though? For first contact with sentient life, I mean. Look at us - we represent biology, physics, geology, with a handful of experience in various subcategories. None of which include linguistics or, for the love of God, politics. We’re, we’re not ambassadors. In fact not a single part of our training prepared us, in any sense of the word, for encountering intelligent life, so - Why is that, by the way? Did Tellus have a reason to send us in unprepared?

Ricketts: Because we didn’t think there was any truly intelligent life out there, I guess. Or it was unlikely enough that it wasn’t part of the standard protocol. Don’t you know anything about language?

Eurus: Uh, no, not really. I can talk to you about Broca and Wernicke but I don’t do anything resembling linguistics. And that all seems like a glaring oversight, given that getting it wrong a single time could have extreme consequences. 

Ricketts: Well see, this is why we need to talk and figure out what we can and can’t do in this scenario. And there’s something else. Standard protocol is one thing; as commanding officer I have access to higher protocols. 

Eurus: And what are those, Captain? The secret self-destruct codes? Who to get rid of first if we’re running out of air?

Ricketts:  . . . I really can’t say. 

Eurus: Oh my god.

Ricketts: [Worried] Here’s the deal. The Tellus Initiative actually does send each deep space mission with specific procedures for encountering intelligent aliens. I know, I’ve read them before on other missions, just out of curiosity. Well, I read parts of them. They’re long and extremely detailed, including over a dozen potential scenarios, pulling from the knowledge and theories of hundreds of experts. But when I tried to look them up in our computer after I got your message, guess what I found? A single text document, and a single paragraph that can be summed up with “collect data from a distance and for the love of God don’t engage”.

Eurus: [Incredulous]  . . . Wait what? Are you serious?

Ricketts: This is supposed to be a strictly hands-off mission, it seems. Minimally invasive.

Eurus: [Squish of Eurus taking her hands out of the dead surfer] Uh, uh, I see, yup, totally, totally. Totally minimally 

Ricketts: But what worries me is that they would have left the other parts in as usual . . . if they didn’t expect to find anything. 

Eurus: One of the early probes might have picked up something and tipped them off. Did you notice anything on our sensors, anything unusual while in orbit? I wasn’t paying attention, too busy mapping out the area. Stuff like weird signals, anything like that.

Ricketts: I don’t know, there was too much interference. Which isn’t really conducive to the aliens using radio when you think about it.

Eurus: I’m not sure about that, we seem to be doing okay. Surprisingly well in fact, despite the delay.

Ricketts: It could have also been through indirect means. The composition of the atmosphere, photos of the surface. I don’t know, I wasn’t briefed on anything like that. I tried to get an explanation on the quantum communicator but Tellus isn’t answering right now. It’s not like we can have bad reception on that, so I think they might still be trying to figure out what to do about it.

Eurus: What do you think they’re going to do about it?

Ricketts: I don’t know. And Dr. Eurus, you’re not going to like this, but I don’t necessarily think it matters.

Eurus: What are you even talking about? It very fucking much matters, Captain.

Ricketts: . . . In the long run, sure it does. . . But for right now I need you to focus on surviving. 

Eurus: I . . .

Ricketts: [Firmly] That’s plenty hard enough already. Whatever else is going on is not your problem. It’s above your pay grade anyway. Like you said, you aren’t trained for anything like this. You’re the biologist. Collect samples and do your whole . . . biology . . . philosophy . . . thing.

Eurus: [Annoyed] Look, Captain, I . . . 

Ricketts: So I want you to spend the next few weeks on that rock, not running around squishing alien eggs or fighting tentacle monsters. And stay away from whatever that sub is. Got it?

Eurus: I . . . no! I don’t! I don’t got it! I don’t got it, Captain!

Ricketts: Dr. Eurus. I wasn’t asking. 

Eurus: I’m not going to sit on a rock a dozen yards away from the biggest discovery in the history of mankind and twiddle my thumbs. That is ridiculous! 

Ricketts: I’m not just saying this because that’s what’s written in the protocols. Sometimes you have to take care of yourself, not just for yourself. I don’t want you to die down there, not under my command, and I need you to not be taking stupid risks and being captured and experimented on by aliens and getting your brains scooped out!

Eurus: [Beat, then slightly confused] Wait, Captain, do - do you seriously think they’re going to try to scoop out my brains o? You think that’s a reasonable thing to be worried about? Really?

Ricketts: I don’t know! I’m getting more and more paranoid with every missing piece of information and unforeseen circumstance that pops up on this mission like a shitty whack-a-mole where the moles start trying to talk to you and you have to decide whether it’s ethical to whack them or not. And you’re not helping by contradicting me! 

Eurus: [Restrained] Captain. Listen to me.

Ricketts: Yes? I’m listening.

Eurus: You said I could dictate the direction of my research.

Ricketts: . . . Yeah, I guess I did.

Eurus: And that’s what I’m going to do. That’s final.

Ricketts: [Pause] Yeah, I guess you are. [Sigh] I admit, it’s hard to tell you what to do from this far away.

Eurus: Yeah, it is, and I’m glad we’re on the same page. If not the same celestial body.

Ricketts: [Static increasing] Fred, I just want you to be safe. I can’t predict what’s going to happen here, and I don’t know what those creatures intend. Obviously I can’t stop you from trying to contact them. Just try to not be stupid about it, okay? 

Eurus: Oh, come on Captain, you know me better than that.

Ricketts: I do. [Beat] You know I have to say it though.

Eurus: Do you though? Do you really?

Ricketts: Yes, I do.

Eurus: [Exasperated] Fine, go ahead before we lose the signal. 

Ricketts: Dr. Winifred Eurus, I order you to - [Audio cuts out]

Eurus: Heh. Guess I’ll never know what he was going to say. Alright. Now, where was I? [Squish]

[Click]

Eurus: Alright, down below the rocks now, and the tide’s fully out. I stored what was left of the surfer back at my camp. So, it’s time to set up. 

[Pounding of a stake into the ground.]

There’s one.

[Walking. Another stake]

[Continues walking] I want to get all of the main junctures, as well as have at least a couple near individual outlying shells, I think. Imagine it kind of like extracellular recording - inserting electrodes to measure electrical activity in nerve tissue, but not sticking them into the neuron itself. Sticking holes in things is generally bad, because it shortens the time you can study them. Or think of it like an EEG, gently placing electrodes on the outside of the skull to record what’s happening beneath. But without the weird goo that gets in your hair, though. At least, not currently.

[Another stake pounded in]

[Resumes walking] The shells are silent, none reacting to my presence or trying to drive me away. The squiogs though [lowers voice] they’re still following me. I realize I haven’t given them a full description. They are a steely gray color, lighter on top and darker towards the ends of their appendages. Their bodies are small, the size of a large cat, at the nexus of at least fifteen, maybe twenty thick tentacles. Two of those end in rudimentary eyes, small black dots that stare at me with very obvious dislike. [Stops]

[Another stake pounded in] 

Alright! One more, and I know where I want it to go.

[Resumes walking] Squiogs are boneless like so many other things here, but perhaps because of the lower gravity this doesn’t impede them as much on dry land as you'd probably think. They’re strong enough to hold themselves up from the ground, and move fluidly if disturbingly on at least six tentacles at a time, but often more. They don’t seem to have mouths, but I saw a few dig something up from the sand and handle it in their tentacles in obvious feeding behavior. Their barely visible bodies seem to be made out of a rougher texture than the limbs. They must also have some sort of gills somewhere, being amphibious, unless, unless they breathe through their skin, though that’s unlikely for a creature that size.

[Stops] Alright, Here we are. Hey there, Bob, you’re looking healthy. I suspect you might be able to hear my voice. The group as a whole seem to know it’s me - otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to get this close and make this much noise. [Lays a hand on the shell] You put in a good word for me, didn’t you bud. [Taps shell twice]

[Answering noise]

Whoa! Oh! Oh. [taps the shell three times]

[Pause, answering noises. Pause, whir whir whir]

Huh. Nice to, uh, see you again? Well, your shell at least. That’s quite enough for me though, thanks. You’re an ugly son of a bitch.

[She stands with a hand on the shell for a second, then goes back to work]

Anyway, here’s the last stake. I think putting it into the shell itself is a bad idea for Bob’s health, and even placing it right against the shell might freak him out a bit because of the noise. So I’m going to put it about . . . there. An inch and a half off. 

[Stake starts to be pounded in. One, two - squiog squeal!]

What the fuck arg Jesus, get off get off god damnit! You stupid mother- 

[Sounds of struggling and squealing as Fred tries to pull off the squiog which has wrapped itself around her leg] 

Oh fuck you, fuck all ya’ll dipshits! You want me?! I’ll punt squid left and right all motherfucking day if I have to! Calamari assholes.

[Hissing sound as Bob releases a very small amount of gas]

[Coughing] Oh shit! [Runs away, then stops, coughing]

Oh god, that particular fucker needs a name. It reminds me, I had, I had an ex with this dog named . . . Nate, a yellow lab, a very typical dog. He was fine for most of the time I dated the guy. I even petted him sometimes, and he seemed to tolerate it. But then one time the ex left us alone in his apartment and he was just sitting there and I was looking at him, wondering what was going on in his mind, simpler than my own but still fascinatingly independent and inscrutable. But then he turned his head from staring into the middle distance with his tongue lolling out, he turned his head and saw me, really saw me, and something changed as our eyes met and he regarded me with something like intelligence, and then he started barking, and I have never been so surprised and frightened in my life. 

I’ve encountered large carnivores before in the wild - what few of them are left by now - but a bear never felt the same way, that he understood me, that he didn’t like the way I was regarding him. I knew better than to look an animal in the eyes like that but I did it anyway because I was observing, not interacting, or so I thought. I challenged him and Nate said, Oh hell no, and put me in my place. And that’s why you don’t look an animal in the eyes, especially one that doesn’t know you that well. Dogs will look away most of the time, concede your victory if they think you are dominant in the setting, and in this case I was not.

Brr, a cold breeze sprung up just now. Good for clearing the air at least.

This is a long way to say that that was just wild, and now that I’m not all pumped up on adrenaline I’m thinking again about that mutual relationship. Having each other’s backs, even though their species are obviously not related - completely different body plans, I think the squiogs even have some sort of rasps they use for feeding on the ends of their tentacles based on what . . . Nate . . . was trying to do to my leg. Snailiens make vibrations by scratching with their beaks and somehow using their sensory appendages to modulate it, primarily meant to be conducted through the shells or their connections. Squiogs instead vocalize and use air conduction of sound, even though I can’t exactly tell where it’s coming from. But I think the two species also talk to each other, in a limited way, like cats do to humans. 

Anyway, thankfully Bob interceded in the only way he could, luckily not enough to kill me. I’ve just been lightly chlorinated, but I managed to hold my breath and run away fast enough. My eyes, though, are still running. Thanks Bob.

I found something else on the outskirts of the village. I noticed that the pattern of tendrils converges on this one shell, bigger and older than the rest but clearly occupied and not like their food storage shell. A single very thick tendril runs from this one to a lump of ceramic material, too small for someone to live in. This lump resists all efforts by me to decipher it. But it connects to an even thicker tendril that drives down deep into the ground in the direction away from the village, towards the north. It doesn’t vibrate like the others. It might be my imagination, but I think it gives off a very high-pitched noise, like power lines.

It’s not power lines though. They don’t seem to use electricity in the village itself. But sound conduction between different communities might be difficult and unreliable. Requiring a different method of passing signals. Maybe even electrical ones.

I think that - oh.

Sorry, I just, I looked at the sky, and - oh boy, um, I better get back up to shelter soon. There’s, there’s a black and angry-looking mass of clouds gathering to the west, shot through with bolts of lightning I haven’t heard yet, thankfully My first Fonsian storm. I need to - uh damn, um I have to get in the sub, which is of course all the way up on top of the rocks right now. 

So, I’m signing off for now. Wish me luck.

[Click]

Jesse Schuschu: Tides was written by Jesse Schuschu and directed by Jesse Schuschu and Ayla Taylor. It was produced by Ayla Taylor with assistance from Renee Sima and edited by Mikayla Elias. Special thanks to Dayna Patel. 

This episode features the voices of: 

Julia Schifini as Winifred Eurus

Zach Libresco as Capitan Ed Ricketts

You can find us online at our website tidespodcast.com and follow us on Tumblr and Twitter at @tidespodcast. If you like our show and would like to help us keep making it, you can support us on Patreon at patreon.com/tidespodcast.  

This month we would like to recommend Primordial Deep, a science fiction action/thriller, by the creator of Janus Descending. When a long extinct sea creature washes up on the shores of Coney Island, marine biologist Dr. Marella Morgan is contacted by a secret organization to investigate the origins of the creature’s sudden and unnatural resurgence. But there are dangers in these ancient waters. It is masterfully sound designed by our very own Julia Schifini! 

And now. . . 

Ricketts: This is Captain Ricketts and this is a Ship Rule: Star Trek and smoothie night is mandatory, no exceptions!