The Alchemist's Slime Codex

A light-green slime bounces against the fence of an enclosure, staring at you with the dull curiosity common to its kind.

You look at it, mind blank and eyes half-open.

After a moment, it wobbles back a tilt of the "head", then returns to its group.

It makes you ponder...

What is a slime?

By your definition, it is a gelatinous, sentient mass encompassing a crystal-like orb. Moreover, the orb's elemental composition ranges largely according to nearby geographical factors.

Then... What is the purpose of the Royal Institute of Slime Studies?

"...The institute at its base has the goal of carrying out The Slime Research Initiative, funded by the Royal Family," you mutter to yourself. "Or in other words, find some kind of purpose for these bouncy headaches that won't stop multiplying."

As you watch over the grassy pen filled with light-green slimes, you rehearse all kinds of scenarios within your mind. Questions you might soon have to answer before the court.

It's been two years since you have become the head Slime Alchemist of the institute. Research has slowed to a crawl since then and the slimes have reached the point where they're eating through the resources faster than they're studied.

And as if that wasn't enough, the nobles are also relentlessly mocking the institute, calling it a waste of funding and pleading for budget cuts...

...

"Sentient..." you whisper. In the end, just another thought to mull over.

You lock "eyes" with a slime plucking a blade of grass as you repeat the word. You watch the grass slowly sink into its transparent body until it touches an orb, its core. Bit by bit, it then gets absorbed. Over time, you've discovered this tints the slime a brighter green, the base coloration all variants eventually branch from.

You whistle once.

Some slimes turn. Others twist as if raising their inexistent heads. From this, you have long inferred their cores have a front and a back. They can see if turned the right way. Somehow, they can also hear.

As for that sentience...

Your eyes remain locked with the slime. The others notice your line of sight, shoot a glance the way you're looking, then return to whatever they were doing. Except for the slime you're staring at, that is.

Like a green bunny, it bounces closer, measuring itself against your leg. Only up to your knee... Even with the fence, they could leave anytime they wanted. But here, they are well-fed and cared for. They know better than to do that.

The slime then turns thinner and taller, redistributing its goo in order to better hear your instructions. It even twists its "torso" as if to look you in the eyes.

They're intelligent... Intelligent enough to act stupid when it benefits them and display their full ability if they get something out of it. Simply calling them sentient doesn't do them justice.

"Good," you praise it.

It wobbles happily at the word. The rest peek curiously, twisting either one way or the other as they're trying to figure out what earned it praise.

Of course, the praise is entirely strategic. They're too smart for their own good so at times it's better to keep them guessing. It certainly has nothing to do with you and your fellow researchers playing favorites. No, how could it be that simple?

"Follow me," you instruct, turning as the slime slips its core through an opening in the fence.

It's about time you return to your laboratory. To find a purpose for this one.

You gloss over the past experiments in your mind as you walk, nodding mindlessly to the greetings of your fellow researchers who go about their work. Sometimes, your eyes are drawn by the feminine tones, then stall a moment longer to appreciate the curvature of the robes. On their faces, you see smiles and raised eyebrows, surprise and seriousness. Maybe with a hint of nervous too behind those rounded glasses and pointy witch hats.

And all these greetings brighten your mood a tiny bit. You don't know why but they do.

Your mind spins with more fervor from the boost, naming danger and colors; rehearsing the known and wondering about the unknown.

Following the rules of a twisted kind of aposematism, dark colors in slimes are often times the dangerous ones, with the exceptions almost always being the brightly-colored ones.

Light Red... Fire variants. They're not hot enough to be immediately dangerous. Comparatively, the Dark Red cause severe burns as if touching magma.

Dark Purple...

You steal a glance at the bright little booger bouncing behind you.

It's similar to Dark Green. One's poison, the other venom. The venomous variants even figure out ways to increase the density of their gelatin, forming sharp points they use to inject the venom. The poisonous ones just shoot tiny droplets towards the mouth and eyes.

And so on, and so forth...

So anyway...

What's this one gonna be?

You still don't know. Maybe let it roam around and figure it out for itself. Or just keep it by your side.

You raised this one on praise and candy so it knows not to turn into the dangerous kinds. Hopefully...