What exactly is meant by a taxonomic hierarchy of physiological needs, and why should it be so important to a system like the VENUS? This question has been raised… rather too frequently by our interns and certain of our staff for comfort, so it seemed prudent it be addressed before allowing the series to continue.

In essence, they are the needs so basic their lack can only hasten one into death, a topic we have already covered in some length. So let us skip past the details to say, ‘the greater the haste, the greater the priority.’ These potential hazards can then be sorted into a pyramid with the more fundamental needs at the bottom and upward as urgency decreases.

It’s something of a visual metaphor relating to foundations and such.

Regardless! If rigorously observed and followed, such a hierarchy will dramatically increase the odds of survival of whatever test subject one is experimenting upon.

Obviously, we have already accounted for some few of these with our selection of RA-291 as testing ground, so the installed VENUS devices have not had to correct for things such as breathable air. Nor would it have been able to. As you have no doubt become aware—or perhaps not given that we have been forced to cover it—the device accumulates naturally occurring biological strategies to meet survival challenges via dietary acquisition. Or more simply, the more our subjects eat, the more they adapt. With that in mind, it should be obvious that if we had simply dropped them onto a planet whose challenges would overwhelm them before they could acquire sustenance, our program would be very short indeed!

It is at this point, we might consider phase one of our experiment complete. The subjects have survived initial contact and begun exploring their new environment. But what adaptations have they acquired? What did the VENUS deem most necessary for these first steps?

A few things are obvious, such as an enhanced—if still assisted—ability to recover from injury and some slight improvements to musculature, most notably within Subject #1. So we need not dwell on them save to mention their potential usefulness in acquiring additional biological strategies.

However, there have been a host of subtle improvements that might have gone unnoticed. The ability to digest and absorb local nutrient structures, palette adjustments to induce instinctual acquisition tendencies, and various contaminant-purification methods have almost certainly been introduced already. Or again—more simply—they should now be able to eat the food and drink the water without concern.

Our more adventurous viewers may not find such adaptations to be particularly exciting but be assured, they are absolutely critical. After all, even the shiniest cap of yon mighty pyramid needs foundations to rest upon.

So then, what future developments will unfold? Let us watch as our subjects begin to stretch their legs…

Mark and Naomi stood at the beach, staring out across the open water.

Or more accurately, Naomi was. Mark was keeping to the shade. His new ‘friend’ still had not given him his shirt back and frankly, he had no idea where he was going to get hold of a can of SPF 80. That sand looked hot.

“Did you know you can get a sunburn from reflections?” he called anxiously. “Like… you can literally go blind from the light bouncing off of snow and burning into your retinas.”

Naomi sighed. “There’s no snow out here, Mike.”

“Mark…” he corrected half-heartedly. Then louder, “I know that. I’m just making a point.”

“That being?”

He spread his hands pleadingly. “Maybe we should wait until nightfall?”

“No way. That’s when the bats come out.”

Mark blinked at the seeming non sequitur. “Bats?”

“Yeah. Big ones.” She did not elaborate beyond that. “Come on. You’ll be fine once you get in the water.”

He had just voiced his concern about burning just from being near the sand, so he did not know how she expected a little water to help. However, given their situation, he would probably end up as crispy as a pork rind no matter what precautions he took. Not for the last time, he wished he took more after his father, but those Irish genes were just too damned potent!

“I just think we should explore our options,” he tried again. “What about the ammonia? We never found where that was coming from.”

“Look.” Turning, she planted her fists at her hips and fixed him with that ‘I’ve had just about enough of your shit’ look that all women seemed to know. “It was your computer that lead us here. Is the water on that island or not?”

He glanced toward the horizon and the landmass sitting upon it. From the air, it had not looked that far away, but now that they were confronted with the prospect of swimming there, it seemed a bit more daunting. There had to be a solid mile or more of open water between shores.

“Yeah,” he admitted, knowing what was coming.

“Then we don’t have a choice. Besides, other than that one spot, I haven’t smelled a hint of ammonia this whole time. I’m betting they plugged the leak already.”

Curious.

Make a note: Subjects continue to discard oceanic bodies as potential fluid sources despite abundance. Hypothesis: Residual fears of contamination? Perhaps it lacks some unknown trace elements?

…

Well, certainly. That would have been accounted for almost immediately… unless… Do you think it’s possible they don’t trust their own senses?

…

Ah, yes. Now that you mention it… Even so, the concentrations of sodium chloride are scarcely above one percent on this world.

…

I suppose that’s possible. Look into it, will you. If no one else has discovered this, we may have just stumbled upon something rather exciting!

…?

Grant funding, my boy. Grant funding…

“Alright, I get it,” Mark admitted.

Truth be told, he had only been looking for some means of delaying the inevitable. Besides, there was no way they would have ever found the ‘source’ of the ammonia. That whole thing about hidden government bases was total nonsense. It was much more likely they had just gotten used to the smell.

“Can I at least have my—?”

“No,” Naomi said with some finality. “And you’re not getting any more fruit, either. Neither of us wants to find out what’ll happen when that bar over your head fills up. Be sure of that. Fruit is extremely high in fiber, you know.”

Mark’s jaw snapped closed. He had been about to suggest exactly that. He had only had the three, and the walk through the jungle had not exactly dulled his appetite.

“I thought fiber was a good thing?” he tried instead.

She eyed him as though uncertain as to whether or not he was being serious. But instead of explaining herself, she began to strip off her shoes and blue jeans.

Mark stared for perhaps a half second too long before glancing away, his back ramrod straight and his cheeks flaming.

“Don’t make this awkward, Mike.” Naomi’s tone suggested she could not have cared less, but he thought he could detect a slight flush to her cheeks, as well. She knelt to begin bundling her clothes into the shirt she had commandeered. “We can’t make that swim with a bunch of waterlogged crap weighing us down.”

He cleared his throat. He had to give her that. And a few points for practicality. Really, what was the difference between underwear and a proper swimsuit? Never mind what his libido thought about the matter.

Plus… now that he had a chance to get a proper look, he had to admit, she was not quite as rail thin as he had once thought. The boy shorts she had just revealed were a little disappointing, and she was not what he would call shapely. But…

“Maybe a six?” he muttered.

Naomi jerked upright. “Excuse me?”

“Buh—I was just saying I wish we had some sticks,” he replied lamely, then hurriedly began removing his shoes so as to break eye contact. “Like to use as floaties or something?”

“Nothing you need to worry about,” she grumbled.

He straightened. “What?”

“I said you’re fat.”

Scowling, he busied himself with securing his shoes rather than popping off. He might have deserved the dig, but there was no reason she had to be so blunt about it. It was not like he was unaware. And anyway, had he or had he not just lost a bunch of weight? She needed to make up her mind!

Coming to his feet again, he debated whether to remove the rest but decided against it. Bicycle shorts were pretty much the same thing as a bathing suit anyway, and he had no desire to find out what a sunburn might feel like on his upper thighs.

All of which meant he was as ready as he could be so, with an indignant tilt to his chin, he marched forward. Unfortunately, the hot sand instantly nixed his front of quiet dignity, and he wound up hooting like an idiot all the way to the water.

Naomi sighed. “Do you normally roll over and take it when people insult you, or is it just me?”

Mark was not sure how to take that question… having been preoccupied with cooling the undersides of his feet.

“I just don’t see the point in being antagonistic,” he explained after the moment’s thought. “There’s only the two of us out here. Fighting all the time isn’t going to help anything.”

Naomi looked to the sky exasperatedly and started trudging into the water. “Oy. Am I yelling? Am I throwing things at you? No! I’m insulting you. Insults, not fighting. I insult. You insult. We trade.” She threw her hands into the air. “It’s a whole thing! Why am I having to explain this?”

He hesitated, confused yet weirdly mollified. “Is… is this how you talk to everybody?”

By that point, she was about waist deep into the water, but at his words, she stiffened and shot a glare at him. “Now you’re making me mad.”

“Wh-what? What did I say?”

Groaning, she dove forward and began to swim away. “Come on, Tubbo!” she called, shifting to a backstroke. “Stand there gaping any longer, and you’ll be burning my retinas.”

“Bu—?” Slightly peeved and more confused than ever, he began paddling after her. “I thought I was Mike!”

“Only when I like you!”

One frustrating aspect of dealing with the human species is their near universal tendency to speak in code. Worse, they don’t even realize they’re doing it. One moment, you will be having a perfectly rational conversation on the topic of a favored canine, and the next you will, with no warning, be subjected to the topic of edible marijuana. As if either of those things have anything to do with one another! Worse still, you will then be shocked to discover you were not actually talking about either of those things, at all!

I still have no idea what a disembodied consciousness is supposed to be, nor how such a thing could have any use for an abandoned amusement park.

Regardless, what we are witnessing here is an example of what happens when one person’s collection of code-speak clashes with the expectations of another’s. That, or they’re flirting. Possibly both.

It is a shame, however, that Subject #1 seems to have forgotten something rather important…

Naomi paddled along in a contented daze. The surf was calm. The sky was clear. She had been getting the better of Mike all morning. You could not ask for a nicer day for a swim.

But more than that, she felt… powerful! Strong and healthy! Athletic, even. It was fantastic! If she had only known what it felt like…

It was not as if she had been unhappy with having wet noodles for arms. They had moved more-or-less where she had wanted them to, and besides, girls were not supposed to be muscular… or so she had once told herself. Much to her surprise, however, the addition of a little tone had not made her feel less feminine. Quite the opposite.

“A six, huh?” she mused aloud.

She started to grin before she could stop herself. Mike’s opinions on the matter were about the last thing she should be worrying about. Still, he was a guy. Technically. It was nice to be considered ahead of the curve in such matters… even if it was only by the slightest of margins. Besides, with the right makeup and a nice dress, she felt confident she could massage that number upward.

But that was neither here nor there. She was stronger now, and she loved it. From this point on, this was her new normal. Anyone who said otherwise could try their luck prying it from her cold, dead fingers.

No. The only real question was in how to get more! The last time, she had been rewarded after her… little indulgence. But would she receive the same after a repeat performance? There was no way to know unless she tried.

“But how am I supposed to catch something?”

“Marlboros!” Mike called from somewhere behind her. “Wait! All I’ve had to eat since we’ve landed are few of those—” He had to pause to sputter a bit from the water. “—a few of those fruit. I’m starving!”

He was exaggerating, of course. No one with a gut like that could ever be accused of starving, but she could not fault him for being hungry. Not when she had been the only one to benefit from the feast he had so unwittingly sacrificed himself for. If only he could remember to stop calling her that stupid nickname.

It made her crave cigarettes.

“We’re in the middle of the ocean, ya putz! You’ll choke.”

“I won’t! I swear,” he argued, then rolled to his back.

The move brought him bobbing to the surface like a submarine. A severely irradiated… nuclear submarine. The guy had not been kidding about how quickly he burned. He was starting to look like a cooked meringue.

“See? I float.”

“Can you seriously not wait until we get to shore?”

He flopped over quickly, sensing the chink in her armor, and began closing the gap between them. “I seriously can’t. Like… for real. Just one. Please?”

She resisted the urge to grind her teeth. Why was it her job to explain to this man how to actually behave like one? Begging like a child? Really? She was half-tempted to ignore him just for spite. However…

He had a bit of a crazed look in his eye… almost like he was struggling not to lose it.

“Alright, fine!” she allowed, slowing to a tread so as to untie the bundle she had around her neck. “Just keep your pants on. And I mean that literally. Actually, keep your distance, too. I don’t want to be anywhere near you after you’ve eaten this thing.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just toss it here,” he muttered, content now that she had agreed—then grimaced when her throw fell short. Stretching, he continued, “I don’t know what you’re afraid will happen. It’s not like I’m going to—”

Abruptly, a faint ripple disturbed the water, and the fleshy pod was sucked under.

There was a moment of stunned silence.

“My fruit!” he yelled and dove after it.

“Tubby…?” Naomi blinked a few times in disbelief. “M-Mike? We still have plenty of… Mike?!”

Several seconds passed while she treaded water. Was he seriously that thick? Who chases a fish? Eventually, more from a sense of morbid curiosity than anything, she dove under as well. There was no way she was going to let him live this down.

However, once she had opened her eyes to the scene below, all thoughts of tomfoolery fell away. Her experiences with large, open bodies of water had left her with expectations of impenetrable murk and unfathomable depths. This could not have been more counter to that had there been a checklist. The water was perfectly clear all the way to the sea floor, itself much closer to the surface than she would have guessed—thirty feet at most… which was still a lot, but somehow, being able to see it helped put things in perspective.

Yet despite the rays of sunshine scattering through the crystalline waters, it was the teaming throngs of life just beneath her feet that truly stole her breath away. It was all she could do just to take it in. It was like being in an aquarium! Twisting, oddly striped seaweed grew in thick but scattered groves, stretching meters tall above the sea floor yet keeping a circle of perfectly clear sand around each. Fluted columns in pinks and oranges belched out bubbles of air, attracting colonies of spiked, rock-like creatures that sent flickering tongues questing through them.

And through it all wended a multitude of vibrantly colored… fish? Probably? Except their fins all seemed to be angled horizontally. Her first thought was that they were probably whales, except they seemed far too delicate. She had never heard of any species of whale whose fins flowed through the water like silken scarves. Plus, their heads were shaped all wrong, and they were nowhere near big enough. Although, now that she was looking, they were not that small. The vast majority were at least as long as her leg.

Meanwhile, Mike seemed to be in pursuit of a weird-looking… turtle sort of thing? It had a shell, anyway. And the proportions were more-or-less correct. It was just that it had one pair of webbed feet too many, and its tail was long and pointed like a manta ray’s. It did not appear unduly bothered by the clumsy land animal struggling after it, save to keep its distance.

Naomi floated there, stunned partially from the raw beauty surrounding her, but mostly because she had no idea what any of these things were! None of them. Sure, they appeared similar to things she was used to, but there was not even one individual amongst the multitude she could have pointed to and named with any confidence.

Maybe on a deserted island, she could buy an eccentric cultivating his own little arboretum, but under the ocean as well? There was no way! Ocean life was far too uncontrolled. Too chaotic.

Something would have eventually found its way in from the outside no matter how diligently a cove like this was maintained—of which she had seen no signs—and it was almost certain something would escape. All it would take was one of these things washing up on the wrong shore for rumors to begin circulating.

However, she did not have time just then to truly ruminate on the implications. There were a lot more turtles in the water than just the one, and all of them had turned their attention toward her. They were maintaining a cautious perimeter for now, but more were on their way. And they were growing bolder.

“Mike!” she shouted, hoping he would even be able to hear her through the water.

Fortunately, whatever had been done to his ears seemed especially tuned to her, and he turned. He did not look pleased at finding her in distress yet again. That or he had run out of air.

As he struggled toward the surface, she took the moment for a fresh breath of her own. Her natural inclination in a situation like this was to freak out…

And yet… there was a small but growing part of her that could not help but think…

Was this not the exact opportunity she had been hoping for? The turtles were not… that big. She had no idea what their dental situation might be like, but the claws had looked pretty manageable. The tail might pose a problem, though.

She was just starting to salivate at the idea of what turtle flesh might be like when she gave her head a sudden shake. She must have been out of her mind. How would she even catch one? And assuming she could, what then? Was she going to punch it to death? She had no chance out here.

Not out in the ocean. But… if she could lure one to shore…

An evil grin began to spread across her face.

Mark breached the surface, gasping for air. He almost wanted to cry. How dare that thing steal his food! Did it not understand how hungry he was? And then to taunt him like that?

He could still remember the contemptuous look in its eye as it had chomped away at that… tender… pulpy flesh. He could almost taste it… the juices just flirting with his tongue as the current swept it away. The bastard!

And now more of them had shown up to take the rest? Not if he had anything to say about it.

But when he began to ferociously paddle toward the scene of crime, he saw something that would haunt his nightmares for many weeks to come.

“Come on… Come on, you little beauties. I know you want it,” Naomi taunted, holding one of his precious pearls of deliciousness overhead. Then, in a heart-stopping move, she tossed it away.

He could actually feel his chest constrict as the desperate need that had been building within him surged to the surface, and he started to make for it. But it was too late. It was gone. He had barely made it two strokes before the turtles converged on his beloved morsel. He wanted to curse. To howl. To scream!

“Naomi!” he shouted, redirecting toward her once again. “Naomi, what are you doing?!”

She ignored him, too busy making her own way toward the approaching shore, his shirt and what remained of its precious contents held tightly in hand. Several of the turtles were still on her tail.

“Naomi!” he shouted again. “Don’t let them get any—no wait!”

Horrified, he watched as yet another succulent arced through the air, drawing several of the remaining turtles after it. It physically pained him not to break off with them, but he knew he would never get there in time. His only hope was to somehow catch the girl and wrestle what few remained away from her idiotic hands.

They were just a bunch of turtles! There was no need to panic. All she had to do was give the rest to him. Once they saw there were no more fruit to steal, they would leave. Problem solved.

“Marlboros!” he shouted, his hallowed, sputtering rage somehow containing every syllable of explanation. “God-dammit!”

“Alright, Tubby!” she yelled back.

His sigh of relief was palpable. She had heard him.

“Catch!”

“What?!”

A shiver of despair rolled up and over his scalp as yet another morsel launched into the air—this time straight for him… and past! It was long! Almost weeping, he surged as high as he could from the water, but it was no good. The sacred drop of mana had scarcely made a splash before one of the cursed deep ones made off with it.

He could have ripped out his own hair from the frustration. He felt like his whole life was burning down around his ears. He was going mad! Worse, Naomi had taken his moment of distraction to pull even farther ahead!

With an unintelligible roar, he resumed his pursuit. He was going to kill her!

There were only two left. He had not been counting, but he knew. It was like an instinct.

Only the two.

Unfortunately, there were still a small handful of those thieving turtles between him and his prize. Her escape plan was working. It was stupid, but it was working. It would not be long now before they made it to shore.

When they got there, there would be a reckoning…

He barely even flinched when the next chunk of his heart sailed away. He would not be deterred. Not anymore. The whole of his being was focused solely upon wresting the final morsel from Naomi’s hands.

Faster and faster he swam. Until his arms throbbed. Until his lungs burned. He would not stop. He could not.

Then, his thrusting fingers met sand. They had made it.

“Naomi!” he roared, surging from the water in a maddened fury. Then a few droplets passed into his windpipe, and he was forced into a coughing fit.

“Here,” she called.

When his bloodshot eyes focused, he found her backing away from one of the enormous turtles with the last of the fruit held high overhead. Like she was taunting it. And indeed, the thing looked every bit as infuriated at her antics as he was.

“Don’t just stand there,” she yelled. “Kill it!”

His face twitched. Perhaps there was some distant part of his deranged psyche that recognized how irrationally he had been behaving. Or perhaps it was the sheer lunacy of her request. Either way, it brought him up short.

“Kill it? Are you nuts?”

She looked at him. “Oh. Then, I guess I should just give it what it wants…”

Her arm dipped just a fraction too low, and the turtle lunged.

“NO!” he screamed.

To his relief, she had jumped back just in time, but it had been a near thing. Any closer and all that remained of his precious would have been gone forever.

“You’d best hurry up then,” she called. “I don’t think I can fend it off much longer.”

Panting, he began to cast about. There were some dead branches around but nothing like a spear. Or even a heavy rock. “How do you kill a turtle?!”

At his words, the light at her wrist flashed briefly.

“Quick. Grab one of those branches,” she explained.

Hastily, he complied. There was no way he was going to let that thief win. Not if it killed him! Turning, he hefted the gnarled yet rigid plank overhead and charged.

The turtle only suffered a couple of blows to the top of its shell before hissing discontentedly at him. Then it aimed the sharpened spike of its tail toward his ankles, forcing him back.

“Not like that, idiot!” Naomi yelled, gesturing. “Use it as a lever. Flip it over!”

The turtle took advantage of her distraction to lunge again, but this time, it went for the juice-soaked bundle in her other hand.

“Ack!” Startled, she began wrestling with the creature, but there was no saving the shirt. Or its contents. The beast was too strong. “That’s my shoes, you son-of-a-bitch malaka! Let go!”

Predictably, she tripped, and the fruit went tumbling from her hand. The turtle was quick to notice.

As it began to trample the girl, Mark saw red. He would later claim he had been overcome by the need to protect a fellow human being in distress, but at that moment, the thought could not have been further from his mind. The idea of losing the last of the fruit had subsumed him completely.

With a maddened cry, he charged again. The branch tumbled from his fingers, forgotten. He would chew through that shell if he had to. Then, he slammed chest-first into its side.

The turtle hissed irritably at his attack and began lashing at him with its tail, raising welts every time it met flesh. But he paid it no mind. Without even really meaning to, his questing fingers found the edges of the shell, and he began to heave.

The turtle was monstrously heavy, and its central foot was raking at him for his trouble. Even so, he managed to tilt it upward just enough for Naomi to roll free.

She barely paused to recover. Quick as a flash, she snatched up his discarded branch then shoved it beneath the gap he had made. It was not long after that the beast finally tumbled over, and the two of them collapsed, panting from their efforts.

For a handful of seconds, Mark simply stared. Sweat beaded and rolled down his nose to drip into the flattened sand beneath him. He was exhausted and confused. And injured. Again. Not nearly so badly as the last time, but even so. Why had he done that? People did not just attack wild animals over a measly bit of—

His eyes widened. The brief moment of respite had ended. Where was it? For a few heart-pounding moments, he felt certain it might be gone. That the turtle might have snatched it up. That some other scavenger had taken the opportunity to rob him.

But no! There it was!

Scrambling forward on hands and knees, he scooped it up and, without so much as brushing it off first, shoved it into his mouth.

Bliss rolled down his spine. Tears welled into his eyes as his teeth sank in. He had won. He had done it!

Triumphant and glorying, he swallowed the pulpy flesh down whole.

Then… slowly… his elation faded. Rationality returned.

And he began to fitfully spit grains of sand into his palm.

Well. A most unorthodox method, if I do say so myself. They are fortunate the beast did not consider them a threat, or I dare say, their efforts would not have gone nearly so well.

But such things are to be expected of any fledgling hunter. There are bound to be many such stumbles before the fetters of adolescence fall away, and our subjects take wing. In the meantime, let us cast our thoughts ahead.

Our subjects have gained a not-insignificant boon this day. But what will come of it? What changes might we expect? And most of all, will the supposed intellect of the human race latch onto its cause?

Find out next time in episode 7:

A Feast of Consequence

…

And that’s a wrap! Well done, everyone! Not a bad episode, if I do say so myself. You are all to be congratulated.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I just need to pop off to my cabin. I’ve uh… suddenly had an urge to recheck some manuals.