Planet Cross Night

The Night

Inside the Oven there are chambers where dozen or even hundreds of clans mix to find shelter. The nights are times of noise, commerce, and war.

A wrong turn means death. Currents of hot-air can cook entire clans in a hearth bit. Deadly levels of radiation, toxic gasses, are some of the most present dangers.

However, thousands of generations of humans in those lands have tested their chances against unforgiving odds, to codify survival strategies that work, most nights.

Temperatures remain high all night in here. As long as you stay in the right spot, they stay in limits the human body is able to tolerate.

This is the place where humanity thrives in this world. Inside those caves they culture was build and still evolves. Clans try to return to the same cave gallery every night, but you often get a clan or two that no one else in the cave ever met before. Nothing can be left behind in the cave to be found again, because temperatures during the day here destroy any product of human effort.

Still, this people have books, albeit very few. Written in animal skin, in a highly complex language that condenses amazing amount of information in every inch of surface. They have scholars, historians, scientists, medical professionals of sort.

There is clan property, very little notion of personal space or interest, since they cannot leave anything behind when they move from day to night and vice-versa their property is limited to what the clan can transport. Sometimes those caves in the Oven are so full of people that fight is necessary to reduce the numbers enough to allow a chance of survival to some. Other nights there is large open spaces and few clans in the chamber.

Inter-clan marriages happen here, and they are as practical as you would expect from people who grew up fighting for daily survival like they do here.

That saying from Earth “you will have nothing, and will be happy”, I only realized it can mean something here. Because this people are as close to “have nothing” as you can imagine any human to be, and they are happy in a way I never though possible. I realize now that I never have met people who show such pure, authentic, fulfilling, image of happiness.

They are super-soldiers, every one of them. I though I was in great shape, but after half dozen days with this people I could barely believe I had a chance to survive long enough to go back.

That, despite the fact that I was here as protected guest. I accompanied the Younger Half twice, only for the experience. Didn’t needed to make their work, just follow their steps. Stayed with the Older Half the rest of the days. The neckless I wear protects me from challenges for duel and gives me immunity in battle, in case of war. As long as I keep acting according to my place of diplomatic neutrality.

The hyper-realistic intensity of wild life and atmospheric phenomenon here almost killed me anyway. I just don’t have the physical vigour to endure this place.

Calus and his daughter Eshir reached the Oven again tonight. Eshir’s husband too, but Calus son, Eshir’s half-brother didn’t survive the running. Some predator killed the young man. His two wives are still caring small children and must now raise them all by themselves or leave the babies to die. The second is more likely, Gerald explains to me, and more sensible. Is hard to raise children without a father and the sooner those girls give up that idea better chance they have to start again with their new companions.

“No one can ask a man to provide personal attention for the children of another man” by “attention” he means the resources warriors and hunters get from their prey or defeated enemies. Don’t amount to accumulated fortunes, but counts as an additional resource to light the burden of carry those who cannot yet run the long distance by themselves.

By sunrise there is ice and snow outside. The clans disperse again, each reaching for the clues that will reveal the entrance to a nest of ice-spider.

Those nests are destroyed and rebuild every night.

Each clan must find a shelter large enough to accommodate its members.

Battles at the entrance of those nests are common place. Once inside the advantage belongs to those closer to the core.

Those fights don’t last long. Once temperatures raise outside, with the alignment between sunlight and the crystals in upper atmosphere, the external layers of the spider web melt, and holes are closed. Anyone who failed to reach the core by that moment dies painful but fast death.

Then daily rest start. Cycle moves on. Day and night. Merciless and full of surprises, but predictable in its logical structure.

Generation after generation.