As it turned out, ‘chemical’ was just a fancy word people used to describe atoms and molecules when using them in ‘chemical reactions.’ Those were apparently things that happened when atoms decided to rob each other to become more negatively charged. Of course, it wasn’t all cloak and dagger. Some atoms liked sharing electrons, working their way up the atomic hierarchy through the power of social networking.

  All of that was important to know because somehow—some way—the perpetual atomic struggle to break into the upper echelons of the perfectly balanced noble gases explained why fire was hot.

  I was tempted to call the whole mess nonsense, but I was actively weaving the whole time, and it all seemed strangely consistent with what I was doing when I thought about it hard enough. In retrospect, I probably should have suspected some form of pattern recognition bias was going on, but I didn’t know what that was at the time.

  There were a few pauses in the science lecture as I finished bits of clothing for James to put on. He felt the need to walk around a tree and tell me not to look when he changed out of his soiled shorts. It seemed a little redundant to me for a person to wear pants and underwear, but I’d done my best to make them both according to his specifications.

  By the time an hour or so had passed, my mana reserves were pretty much dry despite the constant supply, and James was fully fitted with a plain-greyish outfit. Fully clothed in a light silk shirt, some sturdy pants, and a pair of leathery slippers, he’d sat cross legged in the sand to continue his casual scientific lecture.

  He was just getting to an explanation of how chemical reactions somehow released energy as a byproduct when he started… fading, again. It was starting to get dark out, and it seemed as though sleeping through practically the entire day hadn’t improved his condition as much as I might have expected.

  He yawned pretty dramatically in the middle of talking about electrons jumping between rings, and then he kinda seemed to forget where he was going with it.

  “Huh,” he said, thoughtfully. “I’m tired.”

  “I can see that,” I said.

  He glanced hesitantly at the sand beneath him. “I should probably find somewhere to sleep,” he said.

  “Okay,” I said.

  There was an awkward pause after that. I got the distinct impression that James wanted something from me, but I couldn’t for the life of me imagine what.

  “Do you… mind if I sleep here?” he asked eventually. “It feels kinda stupid to ask after I already have, but I want to make sure I’m not intruding…”

  I didn’t get why he seemed so reluctant. I got some sense of what it meant to intrude, but wasn’t sure how it was applicable. We were outside. Sure, I might have joked about the island being mine, but it wasn’t really. It's not like this island was my home. Not this part of it anyway.

  “Where else would you sleep?” I asked. “The beach is covered in sticks, and you’d probably get soaked when the tide comes in.”

  James smiled. “Yeah, I was pretty much thinking the same thing,” he said. “It just seems strange to…”

  He trailed off, seeming to lose track of what he was saying again.

  I tried to imagine what he must be going through. How would I feel if I suddenly found myself in another world? I still wasn’t entirely sure what that meant in general, let alone what it might mean for me.

  In some ways, it was difficult to imagine it being all that bad. It’s not like I’d be leaving anything behind. James though… It was hard for me to process what exactly the things he’d had meant to him, but it had all seemed very big. I’d have expected my little island to seem small in comparison, but he seemed to find it overwhelming.

  Without saying anything more, he started pushing together a little pile of sand. He did his best to find some clean looking leaves to lay on top of it, and then he curled up near the edge of the tree-line, facing away from me.

  I’d never had a friend before. I’d never had a chance to get used to social relationships. I wouldn’t have anticipated the assumptions.

  I thought I liked James. I was fairly certain I was beginning to see him as a friend, and I found myself infinitely fascinated by what he had to offer.

  Why was it, then, that it hurt to see him turned away? Why did I feel ashamed having to consider the possibility that a little island in a strange new world might not be half as overwhelming as I was? Was it easier for a lost human to face a boundless world than a monster he couldn’t understand? I didn’t even have a sure answer to that question, so why did I care?

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  It was unsettling, and it wasn’t long before I found myself turning away as well, trying not to think about it as I did my best to rest.

  I didn’t have to sleep like James did. It was more like a form of meditation, a way of disconnecting from the world slightly as my mana reserves refilled. I was fully revitalized after just four hours, and that left me with the rest of the night to myself.

  I thought maybe it would help if I wasn’t there when James woke up in the morning. Maybe he’d have an easier time processing the world if he didn’t have an inquisitive Xikirix asking a constant stream of unanswerable questions.

  I crept away into the night, doing my best to block what little sound I made from being processed in his mind. I made my way to a particularly dense cluster of mangroves near the southwest tip of my island.

  It was closer to what you might expect of a Xikirix nest than a big tree stump surrounded by a patch of clean, curated sand. Webs were scattered all over the place, helping to shelter what was inside from the elements.

  It wasn’t really a nest though. There were no carefully defended egg sacks. There were no young Xikirix crawling over the carcasses brought home by their mothers. There was nobody there but me.

  I did try to vary the replicas somewhat, to give some semblance of variety. One woven statue might have a few extra quills, or a slightly different pattern. Another might be a little bigger than I was, or a little smaller.

  I made other things too, of course. I’d tried to replicate some of the prettier flowers I’d found on my island, not to mention doing my best to recall what beauties my old life had offered. Things made purely from memory were often crude and unrefined, but I was getting better.

  My current project was an attempt to capture the sky. The sunrise, to be precise. I’d been watching it every day, trying to get as clear a picture as I could. It was hard to capture how it felt working with nothing but webs, knitted more or less tightly together.

  It didn’t look right in the darkness. It came close when the light of the rising sun trickled through the trees, but it didn’t feel like much of an accomplishment to paint a sunrise that could only be appreciated if you skipped the real thing.

  I hoped to one day learn to replicate the pigments that gave the flowers their colors, but it was proving difficult to separate the color from the rest of the flower. There was so much there, even in the simplest kind of life.

  Every now and again, I caught myself looking at my own sculptures, wondering why they weren’t helping me to figure it out. I didn’t plan on giving them color, even if I learned how. I was afraid of what that might do to me.

  I let the sunrise project rest for the moment, instead opting to try something else. I almost tried to weave a human, but decided against it. I’d probably need James present as a reference to do a half decent job, and I didn’t like the idea of him stumbling into my alcove to find a bunch of sub-human amalgamations staring at him.

  Come to think of it, I wasn’t sure I liked the idea of James finding my alcove at all. The stump wasn’t my home. It was just the place I went to recharge. Denying someone else access would be kind of like someone from your world laying claim on a random McDonald’s. It wasn’t a personal space. It wasn’t mine.

  This little grove of mangroves was different. With the silk floor strung above the marsh, it'd probably be more comfortable than the sand. I hadn’t even considered that. Would I have invited James into this place if I had? Was this my… home?

  If James had thought the stump clearing was like this place, maybe he’d been right to ask for permission. I wasn’t sure if that made sense, but it felt true somehow.

  I tried to banish distractions from my mind as I threw myself into weaving. I was a bit more conscious this time around. A molecule enclosed in a surrounding structure made for a stunning visual moment, but it wouldn’t be ideal as part of a map.

  That’s what I tried to create now. I tried to map my silk.

  I stuck to James’s ball and stick molecular model. There were deeper levels I could just about grasp, but they seemed inconsistent somehow, and difficult to interpret. I thought I might be able to summon a proton on its own, but I couldn’t seem to visualize it properly.

  Much of the lower section of my alcove was covered in weavings, but the ceiling was mostly free. I started just above my work–in–progress sunrise and made my way backwards, filling the available space with my map. It was going to be big. Too big, even working on as small a scale as I could manage. I wanted to do what I could anyway.

  I like to think it would have been satisfying to watch, if you were there. It almost felt like painting stars into the sky with a mesmerizing sense of chaotic order. It was difficult to discern the pattern from a distance, but you could tell that it was there.

  Atom by atom, molecule by molecule, compound by compound I filled the sky, suspending it all with near invisible threads of silk so that it all seemed to float just beneath the canopy. The slightest breeze made it all shift and sway, seeming ever on the brink of collapse, but holding firm nonetheless. It was almost like it came to life as I created it.

  I lost myself in the project, toiling away for hours until the sun started to trickle through the trees once more. For the first time, I took a moment to let myself step back, and look at what I’d done.

  It was wrong. I couldn’t for the life of me recall whether all of the spheres were in the right place. Nothing looked strange in that regard, but something else was just… off. It just wasn’t as alive as I had thought it might be. It didn’t look like constellations. It just looked like balls of silk following a moderately interesting flow. I wanted something better.

  I spent some time wallowing in my disappointment, staring at both of my unfinished projects in dissatisfaction, even as the rising sun illuminated it all in its most flattering light. There had to be some way to add that missing piece…

  My mana reserves were getting low again. I started making my way back to my stump, still trying to think of a solution to my aesthetic problems.

  I was knocked out of my stupor by a disturbing sound coming from somewhere ahead. Normally it was the sort of sound I’d associate with a successfully laid trap promising a hearty meal. Right now though, I didn’t find the sound to be particularly encouraging. James was screaming.