New Worlds, New Demons is a short story I wrote and workshopped for one of my creative writing courses. Originally created as something closer to a sci-fi tragedy, it evolved into a more cerebral piece about connections to those we care about and the nature of caring for life. I hope to return to this story some day, but for now it sits in an unfinished limbo.

The ceremony for leaving the Shaper’s Institute was surprisingly short. Perhaps they didn’t want us dwelling on the fact that many of us weren’t going to see almost anyone else again for an immeasurably long time. Well, measurable to some. The girl next to me had already bought a stopwatch for the occasion. She told me she was going to start it as soon as the ceremony was over, and she was on her way to her new world. After she gave me her whole spiel about her plan to count the seconds, I pulled a small communicator out of my ceremonial cloak. Her eyes went wide, and she quickly hushed me though I wasn’t talking. She quickly snuck it into her own cloak, already caught up on my plan. After a short speech and some cheering, we were all ushered onto the space dock, where there was an individual ship waiting for us along with someone to watch over us on our journey to our new worlds. The girl and I gave each other hopeful glances as we parted ways. In that moment, it was like we traded entire books filled with our life stories. Although for me, A book would be too much.

See, I was given so many chances to grow up. Join the navy, I declined that at an early age. Become a researcher, what is there left to research? I went through school like all the others. A class of friends turned into a small group turned into one or two. Then I was alone in my studies. I started picking up Shaper courses. My parents thought it was basically exile. I thought that’s probably what I wanted. There were so many people, with so many expectations. I wanted to go somewhere where the only expectations were my own. The Shapers Institute never turned down an application before, but few ever made it through their training. It was long days of studying every subject under the stars. Geology, archaeology, astronomy, chemistry, history, anything and everything that may give us just a bit more of a leg up for the years and years we were going to spend alone, creating new things.

The years at the Institute gave me ideas. Plans, goals, and above all, dreams. One thing I always thought was strange was how we never seemed to delve into the more abstract subjects. It was always hard science, mathematics, and the like. We never had classes about philosophy, ethics, political thought, or religion. I still remember the day I went up to my course leader and asked when we would investigate such topics. I still remember when he looked back at me, some mix of confusion and surprise. “Mercury,” he said with a soft, yet condescending tone, “Who will you converse such matters with on your planet?”

What they couldn’t have known at the time was that the researchers at the Institute had just finished one of their most ambitious programs yet: a seed for sentience. All of a sudden, all of the student and faculty were all aflutter with talk of the possibilities. Unfortunately for me, I had finished my studies before I ever had a chance to start taking any of the classes that may help me make such choices about how, when, and to what I should give my seed to. My final teacher assured me that I would be fine, that my world would find its way with my guidance. But what if my guidance wasn’t enough? What if it needed my intervention? Finally, I found myself with my boots on a world of my own, hopes, dreams, and the power to create life all in front of me. Would I be enough?

My ship found its own purchase into a sun-blasted rocky wastes of a barren planet. The old Shaper accompanying me had left, apparently off to get ready to do this song and dance all over again. I get down on one knee, and shove a hand into the loose, light dust like some kind of morbid proposition. One day, this land will be fertile, and rich, and glisten with life.

The suit currently sustaining my life roared to life, beginning to analyze the rocks I just submersed it in. 23% this, 50% that, whatever. The early parts of this process were so drilled into us at the Institute that they were essentially routine. However, there was a new factor: a ringing, from one of my belt pockets. With my clean hand I pull out my own communicator, the other part of the pair that I had given to the girl. Unfortunately, what they made up for in range, they severely lacked in message size. I’d heard from other Shapers that these communicators could potentially communicate instantly between opposite sides of the universe. What the people selling them usually leave out is that they can only send and receive 8 characters at a time. I took a look at the glowing screen.

>NEW HOME

I guess she’s getting settled in to her new project as well. Postponing my own ventures, I decide to send my own message.

>CONGRATS

Before I can get started again, there’s already a response. Looks like the Shaping is going to need to wait a while.

>YOU TOO

>BIGHOME?

>NO. SMALL

BUT

ITWILWRK

>READY?

>ALWAYS

ADVNTURE

>GIFT?

>…

NO IDEA

MAYBWAIT

>GIVE2AML

ANIMAL

>MAYB.Y?

>IM NOT
>EXCITING

Not the response I had expected, but I figured this chat had gone on long enough. Both of us had all the time in the universe now. I looked out over the dirt and rock, considering the one thing the Shapers wanted us to impart onto this land without question: our gift.
It was both the most horrible thing to give and the hardest thing for one to take away. It would allow something, anything, of our choosing to become our advisor, friend, mentor, companion. It would give them life. Many thought that simply giving them to something else resembling us humans would be the best course of action. Less room for error, they reasoned. Not me. I went back into my ship and held the one keepsake I was actually allowed to hold onto, bar the communicator I snuck on of course. It was a reproduction of an ancient symbol, invented countless millennia before my time. My parents told me it was called a “Caduceus”, a scepter of an ancient deity. I cared not for the religious aspect, but this gift held great meaning to me all the same. I figured to myself, what better advisor than that of ancient gods?

I decided I should repay this gift with a gift of its own.