Circa Tempore: The Artificial Organic
Copyright© 2026 by E. B. Redfield
Chapter 43 - Symbiosis
The air in the park whipped as if in the middle of a storm. The trees arced and pulled towards the grafted, some looking as if they were about to uproot. Syahos’ racing heart still found sympathy for the mass. There was no telling just by sight alone how many of the beings within in it were still alive.
Their QPU had pulled up relevant information: the security report for the grafting incident in the testing facility, where the security chief, Hoffman, had somehow come into contact with his past self. The PPU Glyph had been interrogated thoroughly over his handling of the incident.
“Protocol for grafted de-escalation starts with identifying the original entities to have come into contact with each other.” The PPU said in the deeply augmented voice. “In this case, Chief Hoffman. By unknown means, the security chief came into contact with an alternate version of himself. Grafting occurred, and he immediately began consuming the remaining security staff, as well as non-organic matter around him.”
The grafted had righted itself and squared up to Syahos. Its many mouths screamed incoherently. There were so many in the mass now that only those making up the surface had the ability to push out. Somewhere in the center of this mass were two identical people. The root of this tragedy.
“Ending a grafted only happens when the original grafted beings are separated from each other or die. Death can be caused manually, or by denying the grafted more lifeforms to consume and add to their mass. They will eventually burn themselves out: aging rapidly and dying of complications brought on by advanced age.”
Syahos bolted, running from the ITSTU and luring the monstrous entity to the center of the park which was void of people it could add to its mass. They leapt into a tree; but the pain in their side hindered them. The pull of the grafted’s field snagged them in midair and they tumbled back towards it.
“Once alone with the grafted, I had to use my own natural ability to ward off its distortion field. This is a process any Glyph can perform with training. It’s called reverse polarity. The Glyph opposes the grafted’s frequency and counters it, making the Glyph resistant.”
“I ain’t asking for the technical details, just stick the incident report.”
“Of course, my apologies.”
Syahos picked themselves up, heart hammering, and ran behind a large oak tree. How were they supposed to reverse the polarity? Even if they could displace and give themselves extra time to learn, how did you train a sense like that? Controlled grafting events? They shivered at the idea of initiating something like this purposely.
The air and tree branches whipped around them as they wracked their brain. Everything else about their ability was based around instinct and feeling. Just a blink. They didn’t imagine this would be different. They closed their eyes and tried to feel the grafted’s polarity. To sense it.
The tree snapped at the midsection, and Syahos gasped as they were lifted off their feet by the force of the distortion field. They grabbed a thick branch and held on tight, both hands and all four thumbs slipping with sweat as the grafted closed in. They grunted in pain and effort as their palms rubbed against the bark, pulling them towards the grafted’s bulk.
Their ears were overwhelmed by the screams of the combined masses. Some of which came from the beijinkind vessels that still tumbled in orbit. One of these smashed into the branch holding them, and cracked it just enough to break off. Syahos tumbled towards the grafted, digging their fingers into the ground, grabbing one of the tree’s roots, but the force of the distortion pulled them up, ripping the roots out of the ground, and made them dangle in the air. They pulled themselves back down to the ground one arm-length at a time.
They jammed their eyes shut and did everything they could to block out the screams, to block out everything and find the grafted’s polarity. Their ioyuxos may as well have been on fire now, the residual pain from the latest jump was casing their vision to darken around the edges and they were afraid they may pass out.
“Do you need help, young Aeyala?”
Syahos’ eyes shot open and they looked around. The voice was calm, ethereal, and so out of place in this moment. There was nothing to be seen.
“What?” they asked, looking around, “Who’s there?”
As if in answer, a tiny brown mushroom pushed out of the ground right at the tree root. Syahos gasped. The Vytrus! As if they didn’t have enough trouble right now!
“You do not trust us, “ the Vytrus continued, sounding completely unphased by the grafted tearing apart the park. “It is a learned fear. But we have watched you, and sensed you. You don’t harbor the ability to stop this abomination alone. We offer our assistance.”
“Yeah?” Syahos grunted as they felt felt talons grab their leg, biting into their flesh. They cried out as the grafted began pulling them, ripping more of the tree root out of the ground, “And what? I have to let you live in my brain? Help you spread yourself?”
“No, “ the Vytrus replied, and if it took offense to the comment, it didn’t show in its tone, “This part of me has no need of such transport or service. This is for mutual benefit. You wish to halt the abomination to save those you’ve never met, even as they enslave and inflict horror upon you. We wish to halt the abomination because it will spread itself and destroy what we have built and worked for. We can form a temporary, symbiotic alliance.”
“And you really expect me to trust you?” Syahos grunted in the effort to hold on, their biceps burning with the effort now. “That there’s no price for accepting your, ‘help?’”
“Of course there will be a price, Aeyala. There are always consequences. We simply won’t be the one collecting. We would not even presume to tell you what your consequences will be.”
Syahos grimaced. They hated the idea, but they truly felt like they had no other option.
“Fine!” they agreed reluctantly, “What do I have to do?”
“Just breathe, “ the Vytrus replied, and the mushroom cap suddenly puffed a cloud of spores directly into their face. Syahos gasped, which of course allowed the spores entry into their systems.
“What are you ... doing?!” Syahos asked, coughing, “You said you wouldn’t...”
“Be calm, Syahos, “ the Vytrus interrupted, the voice coming from inside their mind. It felt similar to a neural message, but deeper and more natural, “A loathsome name, though we can appreciate the choice.”
“What are you doing?” Syahos repeated, pulling themselves as close to the Earth as possible. Their hands slipped on the roots, slivers embedding in their palms as they slid.
“Your kind is not unknown to us, “ the Vytrus replied, “You are not the first we have integrated with. Of course, you are much different than the hyphae’s memories. Such is the nature of time, of evolution. And in your case, of metamorphosis and mutation.”
Syahos gripped a new root at the base of the tree, one that was still firmly planted. With their left hand they began prying at the taloned arms gripping their leg.
“That doesn’t really answer the question!” Syahos demanded, “What are you doing in my head?”
“Searching for malnourished instincts you have been denied, “ it answered, and Syahos suddenly felt a soothing sensation wash over them that was completely out of place for the moment they were in. The world seemed to be widening, or rather their view of it was. They looked up and saw the trees in the park as they moved in the wind. They saw the people between them. They saw the life as the sunlight danced between it all. Their grip on the root strengthened as claws extended out their fingertips, latching into the roots.
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