Hello! I will keep the intro short!

First off, I want to express my gratitude for the support on my genesis project. I have always wondered how much more diverse and richer the history of art could have been if it were more inclusive. The Universal Garden of Eden was an attempt to demonstrate this idea.

This article features a short story that accompanies my second series on this platform, The Emissary Scrolls. As an avid reader and student of science fiction, I often find myself imagining the narrative behind works of art. The genre felt like a fitting choice for my latest project, inspired by the works of great science fiction writers like Ursula Le Guin, Olga Ravn, and Frank Herbert. Although their writing is unparalleled, I have attempted to channel their style, format, and content in my own work.

Here it is, Chapter 1 of The Emissaries. If there is interest, I am eager to continue publishing future chapters and artwork pairings. For the kind souls that make it through the story, if you enjoy it, please feel free to collect an edition.

Excited to announce the release of The Emissary Scrolls on Monday, February 07 at 09:00am PT. This series pays homage to 19th century virtuoso illustrators such as Adolf Giltsch, Ernst Haeckel, Jean-Baptiste Lamarck, and Charles Darwin. Featuring monographic illustrations on a continuous papyrus scroll, reminiscent of the traditional method of text preservation in antiquity.

You’ll find me at @avant0garde0 on Twitter. Thank you so much for reading.  

Love, avant-garde.

The Emissaries

The story explores the relationships between human crew members and an unfamiliar plant species on a newly found planet. These experiences are documented in journal entries, submitted at the end of each crew member's weekly shift.

A few years into their mission, amongst other items, the crew obtains enigmatic scrolls, but they are in the dark about their significance and origin.

Journal Entry 236/ Inmate no. IN03

I used to share my dreams, but not anymore. I haven’t for the last two years. Every night, I find myself in the same deserted street. As I move closer to a house, I glance back to see a trail of blood behind me. My pulse quickens as I grasp a leaking plastic bag, which taunts me with its lifelessness. I wake up in terror, with shaking hands. The meaning of these dreams remains unclear, but they feel so vivid.

But these dreams are changing me, making me question my own existence. Am I human or am I something more? I don't know what to make of it, but I feel as though I'm on the brink of a breakthrough. I just hope that the answers I find don't break me apart.

I hate plastic bags.

Journal Entry 81/ Inmate no. HS6

The initial scent in the observation room is overpowering. It hits you as soon as you enter. At least, it serves as a reminder of one thing that distinguishes us from them. However, there isn't much else that sets us apart these days.

It's possible that we're even mistaken about this, given how little we comprehend. We’ve learned so little.

I've been stationed here for what feels like an eternity. I often wish there was more to occupy my time. The observation room is the only place where I feel like my life has meaning. As soon as I leave, it all fades away.

I encountered him again today. But I can't talk to him. We're not allowed to even have names, let alone engage in any sort of interaction with others. It's for our own safety, I know, but it still feels like a cruel twist of fate.

I try to distract myself by pouring over these new artifacts we've discovered. The scrolls are particularly strange. And fragrant!

Journal Entry 1001/ Unit Executive A5

I always said this mission was doomed from the start. When you go looking for trouble, you find trouble. We are at a tenth of where we began, and I can only see one way out of here.

They always asked everyone to fill out pages in our journal at the end of the day. To what end, they didn’t even tell us. I never had a talent for writing. Funny, that the one thing bothering me right now, is that if someone finds this, they will judge me for my poor grammar. Fuck you, I guess.

Is anyone going to remember us?

Journal Entry 658/ Inmate no. HS2

The situation is rapidly spiraling out of our control. What started as a routine expedition has taken a drastic turn for the worse in the past three weeks. The once unthinkable is now becoming reality, as whispers of fear and unease can be heard throughout the crew. People are not only making eye contact but even engaging in conversation. Despite this, I still struggle to summon the courage to interact with others. Anyways, talking to people always made me unhappy and I am far too busy with my work to entertain these thoughts.

I find myself spending more and more time alone in the observation room, trying to make sense of what's happening. I sometimes wonder if I hadn’t found those damned scrolls, would things be any different?

I can't shake the feeling that something terrible is about to happen.

Journal Entry 11/ Inmate no. IN03

The only peculiar thing about this place is the absence of anything peculiar. Other than, of course, a complete lack of civilization. Or mobile, living beings. It feels exactly like home, otherwise. As if it's ours yet we belong to it.

I have never felt this safe.