Biopunk: Aristotle

Description

BIOPUNK 1

The Hewmen tribe is steeped in tradition and rigid gender roles. Among them is Aristotle, a brilliant young thinker whose intellect and curiosity set him apart. But Aristotle harbors a profound secret: he feels like a woman in his heart, yearning to break the chains of societal expectations and embrace his true identity.

The fragile equilibrium of the world is shattered when a meteor explodes in the sky, leaving a rift in the clouds and unleashing a devastating cascade of climate chaos. Temperatures plummet, ecosystems falter, and the once-thriving landscapes of the Hewmen’s territory begin to wither. With nature in disarray and the tribe’s survival at risk, Aristotle finds herself faced with an immense challenge.

As the world spirals into an environmental crisis, Aristotle realizes that the key to restoring balance lies not only in the science of ecology but also in her own journey of self-discovery. She embarks on a quest to create a new biological harmony that can withstand the world’s chaotic shifts. She navigates the treacherous wastelands confronting hostile creatures and her own deep-seated beliefs.

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EXCERPT:

I’m hiding behind a redrock, stalking a male greendeer. The majestic animal is eating fruit from the lowest branches of a rainbowtree. The buck has large antlers, which means that I’m allowed to kill it. Fawns and females are taboo. They are not to be hunted, because we need them to keep the balance. The balance is what my tribe calls our functioning ekosystem. To keep the ekosystem functioning, there are certain rules. For example, you may never cut down a rainbowtree, and you should never eat a leppert.

I’m not a very decent hunter. I just can’t bring myself to kill a living thing. The elders say that greendeer have no souls like people do, but I’m not sure. I think I recognize a luster in the buck’s big eyes, an enjoyment as it chews the rainbowfruit. I figure that if a creature can enjoy things, then it can also suffer, and I don’t want to cause suffering. But hunting is my only chance to prove my manliness to the village. So, what should I do? If a man doesn’t hunt, then is he even a man?

I tighten my grip on the spear and imagine throwing it. In my mind’s eye I see the projectile flying towards the buck, then slamming into the poor creature’s flank. I imagine the animal collapsing, green blood flowing from its mouth. In theory, killing a greendeer is easy. The species isn’t built very complexly. Like most animals in the blueforest, greendeer have only a heart, a stomach, and gears instead of bones. The spear doesn’t even have to hit the animal’s heart. If you smash one gear anywhere, the others stop rotating, so the deer freezes up.

I can’t bring myself to kill the gorgeous animal though. So, I sigh, not caring if the buck hears me. The creature senses my presence, swivels its emerald crown in my direction, sniffs the air, then hops off. I watch the green creature escape through the blue undergrowth for as long as I can, until it is swallowed up by the blueness.

I assume you’ve never seen a blueforest, so I’ll tell you what it’s like. The leaves, branches and tree trunks are a million, billion shades of blue. There is bluemoss growing on the southside of every tree. Blueferns and blueroses make up the undergrowth. Rainbowtrees are also mostly blue, except for the fruits, which are all the colors and flavors you can think of. The yellowfruit is sour, the red one is sweet, the green one is spicy. Rainbowfruit is plump with ridges on the sides, made to fit perfectly into an adult Hewmen hand.

The elders say that the ekosystem was engineered by our fourfathers. They say that it was constructed with technology that no longer exists. Apparently, the blueforest was made specifically so that Hewmen could survive in it. That’s why the ekosystem is so perfect, so balanced. Everything has its place, except for me. I feel like some sort of biological anomaly. I don’t want to talk about what I mean by that yet. Maybe I’ll get back to it and tell you later. I’m embarrassed of the truth. Anyway, all you have to know for now is that I’m different from other people.

I stand up from behind the redrock and stretch my limbs. I’m fit, only thirty-two years old, and not too short. I could have been a good hunter. The problem isn’t physical, it’s mental. I stalk over to the tree and start picking fruit from the lower branches. Gathering is usually a woman’s occupation, but I feel like it suits me, too. No one gets hurt. Nothing dies. After the different colored fruit is eaten, we shit out the seeds, and new rainbowtrees grow. I fill my backpack all the way, and then I head back towards the village. The bluegrass is soft beneath my bare feet. Everything is simple, but my heart.