I saw an Ahuurta today. Ahurta is not what they call themselves: the Teth’teth’sin call them that. Ahurta is a Teth’teth’sin name, Humans have only borrowed it. I saw one today, an Ahuurta not a Teth’teth’sin. (I’ve never seen a Teth’teth’sin…they never visit this planet.) My brother sees them often. They are a normal part of his life, and so he is able to ignore them. For me, and anyone else in my village, they are uncommon and mysterious. I doubt that city-folk know any more about them than we do, but they see them on a daily basis. They can distinguish between one and another of them; they can call them by name. He admits that the names by which the machine creatures are known are provisional things: nicknames more like it. The Ahuurta don’t talk much, not like humans do, and so we are left to assume more than we know. I was coming from a day’s work at the mill when I saw the Ahuurta. I heard it first. It made a heavy sound: like the hooves of a horse, ten times larger than any natural horse. I heard snapping wood. Breaking trees. The Ahuurta are bulky things and so their journeys through forests are rare. This one had some business in the woodlands, though I couldn’t fathom what. I heard other sounds in the distance, more big-horse sounds, but only one machine-creature came before me. My brother says that the Ahuurta are the beings inside of the walking machines. Others—village people like myself—say that the Ahuurta and their machines are one-in-the same. The nature of these beings is a constant source of debate, and humans love, if anything, a good debate. In this way, I think, the Ahuurta (creatures? machines?) are better than we are. They are able to reach concensus. They do not quarrel. Never have we seen one Ahuurta in combat with another. Just last week, Baylem stabbed Arlowe in a brawl in the saloon. Arlowe isn’t too happy about that, and so Baylem has skipped out and has gone down-river; he’ll be long-gone by the time Arlowe comes out from under Doc Skinsky’s care. Violence is a human thing, and so when the Ahuurta go down-river, it’s never because one stabbed another in a saloon brawl over a trollop or a floozie. The Ahuurta don’t avoid each other because of trollops and floozies. The Ahuurta saw me today. It paused in its walk, its third leg splayed back for non-walking support. It said something, but I cannot understand their speech: loud, bass-string noises like thunder with tone. They know that we cannot understand them, but they speak anyway. At the sound of the machine-creature’s voice, I waved. It spoke again, and walked away. I suppose, one day, I’ll learn why it chose to walk through the forest—an easy discomfort for them. I suppose it might have told me why I walked where it walked, but I don’t understand bass-strings that sound like thunder. All I know is that I saw an Ahuurta today, but I don’t know why. *** *** *** Okay folks, I have no idea where that above story snippet came from, but there you have it. I blame a piece of sculpture for that. After enjoying brunch with Corey and Kate, I sat in the back seat of Kate’s car as we drove past a sculpture garden in Skokie. We’d actually stopped, but it was too cold to walk around. I saw this sci-fi walking contraption, just after we’d climbed back into the car and headed elsewhere. Kate saw it first and I stuck my camera out of the window and nabbed this shot. I have to say that I rather like sculptures shaped like science fictional walking devices, and it lent itself well to this Gimp-enhanced picture. The moons were added in post-production as were other atmospheric effects. Everything else was left alone, including the "Ahuurta" or whatever else you'd decide to call that thing. As always, thank you for viewing, reading, and commenting, and I hope you’re all on the verge of a great week.