Empyrean Iris Story Collection

Rhythm

The Journal of Mechanics and Biology

Take a moment to consider a level one death world, take a moment to wonder what it would take to survive and adapt on a planet where literally everything is out to kill you. Imagine doing all of that without carapace, infrared, or particularly impressive short distance running speed. Yet the humans did it. They did it and then took their survival to an extreme. How is it that, relative to other predators, such a weak, slow, and helpless species survived on such a death world. * I take a moment here to point out that this is only a comparison of humans to their own planetary species well aware that they are considered a level A-1 predictor in the rest of the galaxy.

To answer this question, I draw your attention to he human brain. It is a fascinating organ of feedback loops complexities and redundant systems. Not to mention the human brain loves patterns. Not to say that there are other species who aren't just as adept at noticing patters, however the difference remains that humans brain's delight in predicting patterns within their environment. While a Glarian may be able to see a pattern faster than a human, the prediction power of the human brain on short notice is absolutely astonishing.

Anyone who has ever attempted to fight a human knows this. Humans are almost impossible to hit as they analyze and predict on the fly in a way that other species cannot. As it turns out this may have been the key to their survival.

The ability to predict future behavior from past and present stimuli is common among higher sentient species, however a human is a fast predictor on the fly. A human and another species may come to the same conclusion though it may take their counterpart seconds or minutes to do what a human can do almost unconsciously and immediately.

The human brain loves patterns and predictions so much, that certain patterns can even elicit a dopamine response in the human brain giving rise to feelings of pleasure. Clearly an evolutionary advantage to enjoy patterns and predicting them.

Krill had only been aboard the human ship for about a week when he first heard the noise. It was distant and throbbed on the air with a certain alarming regularity. First, he thought it might be an alarm of some sort, but the rise and fall of the pulses made him think twice. The noise wasn't a radio frequency which he could pick up, but the universal translator he wore continuously interpreted the sounds on the air allowing him to hear just like the humans did, or at least similarly to how they did. He found this ability to be critical on a ship where atmospheric vibration was a large part of human culture.

He stood up from where he sat and wandered his way down the hall listening to the sound and it's throbbing pulse. As it turned out the human auditory system processed sound in similar ways to how he processed radio transmission, in fact, humans often used the radio to send messages with transduction equipment to interpret the signals. In a similar way, that is what his translator did for him, turning sounds into appropriate frequency radio signals.

These signals were getting stronger as he made his way upwards and onto the bridge. The noise was close now, and he had to brace himself as he opened the door walking in to find the group of humans lounging around at their stations in various states of relaxation.

But it wasn't the humans that caught his attention, but the pulsing beat that swelled up around him throbbing in his chest and throughout all six limbs. The experience was so exquisitely intoxicating that he staggered to the side with a wave of sudden overwhelming emotion.

The beat pulsed inside him with impossible regularity and complexity. So complex was the pattern that he could hardly keep up and his cortical systems struggled to keep all of him functioning as he listened.

Somewhere, someone must have noticed him, and the music was abruptly discontinued.

He became vaguely aware of bodies around him as he finally gained control of his senses.