Bob
January 2183
Delta Eridani
Buster grunted as he released the arrow. It flew dead true and buried itself in the target. Archides whooped from the sidelines, and Buster’s little brother and sister yelled insults. Another universality, apparently.
Buster turned to his opponent, Arnold’s son, and waggled his ears. Donald looked distinctly uncomfortable, but wasn’t going to back down in front of the entire hexghi.
Donald released the arrow. It hit the edge of the target. Not a kill shot, but certainly crippling, if it had hit a live target. Arnold shrugged and yelled sothing supportive.
I took a mont to smile at the number of new faces that had grown up over the last few years. Child mortality had dropped significantly with the reduction in the gorilloid threat, and the Deltan population was up to over eleven hundred.
Archides’ family had grown as well. Three children, and a fourth on the way. I was finally beginning to get an idea of the lifespan of the Deltans. Moses had died a few years ago, at sowhere between sixty and seventy Earth-years old. About the sa or maybe even a little better than humans, given the environnt.
It was a bittersweet ti for . The council had never relented in their decision to banish . Archides brought it up a couple of tis, but was shut down hard. His position as the tribe’s premiere tool maker protected him to a certain extent, but I finally told him to drop it. I didn’t want any backlash against his family.
Stories of The Bawbe still abounded, but I noticed that they were now being embellished. In particular, my reputation seed to be suffering. The tone sounded a little more like Loki or Lucifer, these days. Would I end up as the devil in so far-future religious myth?
I sighed. The risks of godhood, I guess.
I sent a quick text to ask Marvin if he’d be joining today’s scrub ga, and got an affirmative.
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