Wormsign

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Before even thinking, you burst forward with a speed that surprises even you! With a monumental eruption your tri-split maw flings tons of sand into the air, revealing row after row of glinting crystalline teeth. Your new feelings of veritable invincibility are short-lived however, as you notice a vessel, even larger than yourself hovering above, with monumental electrodes suddenly slamming into the rings of your body, stunning you. The next you wake, the smell and taste is all wrong. You have been smuggled to a completely different world in an effort to spread production of the spice. Unfortunately for you, the experiment is a failure. You and the others brought here don't survive for long.

[[Written for the Choosatron|https://choosatron.com]]

Om nom nom! Melange, or spice, is delicious. You eat your fill. Now what to do next? [[Seek out more spice.|2A]] [[Burrow and sleep.|2B]]

You are a microscopic creature. A little sand plankton, in a big, dry world known as Arrakis. [[Seek out some tasty melange.|1A]] [[Burrow and sleep.|1B]]

Somehow you've been cursed with faulty instincts, if you can even call the simple biological state-machine of your microscopic self 'instincts'. Instead of pursuing the prerogative of life to grow, you burrow and quickly starve.

You burrow deeper and deeper, falling into a profound slumber. Your body, fueled by all the delicious spice, begins a magical transformation. After many dark rotations of the moons, you awake significantly changed. YOU are a *marvelous* sandtrout! Full of juicy moisture, you no longer have to worry about sandworm predation. [[Venture to the desert surface.|4A]] [[Seek out delicious moisture.|4B]]

Just one more helping, what harm could it do? Except you know that whenever someone says, "What harm could it do?", the answer is always "a great deal". You fall into a malaise, which would be fine if you had time to sleep it off. Unfortunately, the final form of your own lifecycle, which you will now never achieve, rumbles through the dark sand you inhabit, filtering it through its digestive membranes, and your existence ceases. At least you provided much needed fuel to your advanced sandworm brethren.

After slowly slithering your way, carefully reaching, you emerge with a satisfied wetness that is absorbed quickly into your body. If you had ears, you would also hear the giggle of children...Fremen children, one of which snatches you up! The child applies you to its hand, supplying you with precious moisture from its blood. Soon, however, your luck turns, and you are squeezed, oozing a sweet green syrup, or pre-spice mass. The child greedily slurps up the sticky excretion before tossing your dried leathery carcase away.

The temptation is too great for you to resist. Your cilia furiously paddle until you come upon a large Fremen cistern. You're not even moderately concerned that it appears to be made up of some of your sandtrouty brethren. [[Plunge yourself into the clear waters.|6A]] [[Burrow deeper.|6B]] [[Poop.|6C]]

Caustic reflections ripple across the vaulted dirt ceiling above you. As you approach the pools edge, you notice the room's magnificence, bathed in cool blue tones. Around you, sandtrout brothers and sisters - the strongest and most capable - join to partake in the most precious commodity of all -- cool delicious moisture. After a great many settings of the dual moons, you feel an irresistible urge to form closer with your brothers and sisters, unicellular structure beginning to join as you communally excrete your pre-spice mass into the cistern's pool of which your body is now one with. The fungusoid wild growth begins, CO2 gas building to incredible levels until a grand spice blow erupts, pouring the green gelatinous material over the surface of the planet to dry in the sun, becoming spice. You are among the strongest, and few survivors of the great explosion. Following your instincts you quickly burrow back into the sand before the sun makes you its prey. As soon as you feel safe, a darkness washes over you, one that does not leave for six months of time. You wake feeling a greatness. A complex unity as if you encompass all, and all is part of you. With the slightest exertion, a great soothing rumble tears apart mountains of sand. You are huge. [[You feel a deep, rhythmic pulse...surge towards it!|10A]] [[Approach the rhythm cautiously.|10B]] [[Fuck it. You crawl to your own rhythm.|10C]]

The Fremen known as Leto Atreides II speaks, "Come my Little Makers, let us join and take the golden path together...". You find him oddly hypnotic and slither quickly towards him, right over the other sandtrout whose relation suddenly has little meaning. His eyes like blazing sapphires turn to you, and he reaches out his hand. You squirm right onto it, elongating, stretching...becoming thin. Every cell of his hand is supersaturated with spice! With exhilaration you feed upon the waters of his blood. His water is like no other, filled with melange...he feels more as kin than the other Little Makers slithering at his knees. For over 3,500 years you enjoy the taste of his bloodwater, feeling his thoughts, and becoming one with his body. Eventually you, he, they, become a great worm together.

You swim and swim, the feeling exhilarates you. Finally you feel the rumble of other sandworms, and you burst through the surface to take a look. The sun no longer burns as it once did, and when you turn to see your brother worms...Shaitan!...you measure out to a mere nine meters, where the others are at least two, three hundred! So stunned are you that neither you, nor the three hundred and sixty meter sandworm behind you notice as it swallows you whole. There isn't much room in this world for a stunted worm.

You are smarter than that. A thumper? PLEASE. You swim by your own rhythm. As the moons cycle by; months, years, and centuries - you grow and explore, becoming the largest sandworm to swim the sands of Dune, upwards of four hundred meters! It begins slowly at first, but visions start to disrupt your hibernation cycles. Soon the things they show you become irresistible, and you are driven to find a strange bipedal creature, now one of the Fremen. Then it all becomes as clear as the waters you once desired. On a day where the two moons hang high, in front of the burning sun, you emerge near a mountain range with a crowd of Fremen that seem to be waiting for you. They don't seem to fear you, nor you them. With a great dignity you approach, and allow the Fremen you saw in your visions, a descendent of Muad'Dib, to come to you and to climb upon your great frontal ring. Two destinies are fulfilled this day, and together you create a rhythm felt throughout the galaxy.

Voom...voom...voom...oh the sweet rhythm. You follow it, falling into its embrace more and more as it envelopes your entire mind. You emerge from the sand into a cavern, and it isn't until the group of Fremen nearby turn off their thumper that you realize what is about to happen. Suddenly, they release a torrent of water upon you, but despite your thrashing, you are unable to escape the once necessary, now poisonous liquid. As you drown, you expel an awareness-spectrum narcotic that the Fremen call the Water of Life. Sadly, it means your death.

Wormsign

Not satisfied with just one helping, you continue rapid consumption of your favorite, and only meal: spice. Wonderful! You don't feel like you're starving anymore, but you could probably make a little more room... [["Please God Emperor, may I have some more?"|3A]] [[Burrow and sleep.|3B]]

You begin your metamorphosis. It's your time! Oh no, what's this? Your metabolism begins to slow, your cells straining to continue the transformation. Creepy! Sadly, you didn't eat enough spice for fuel to complete the process. You expire, trapped halfway between the plankton and sandtrout form.

You reach your senses out, feeling for the presence of the rarest substance of this world. There is a tingle...no, wait- two tingles! One is modest, but the other...it must be a grand supply of water! [[Feel for the small trace of water.|5A]] [[Reach for the vast pocket of water.|5B]]

Sweet! You're totally not microscopic anymore. It's time to stretch your cilia. You wiggle your way towards the surface. Today's a great day to have an adventure! But as you get closer to the surface, you notice that it's getting harder and harder to move your little protuberances. Crap! You live in a desert and it's freakin' hot! Unfortunately, and unbeknownst to you (or else you would have revised your plans) you are super-sensitive and can be killed by even a five-degree change in temperature. Lame! You die, extra crispy.

Those dick Fremen have a pack of predator fish! You wiggle and flail, trying to escape. Alas, you are not strong enough and are quickly outpaced by the vicious creatures. With their wicked, crooked fangs they tear your squishy sandtrout form to bits.

You slowly move deeper in the sand and crust, finding pockets of moisture before coming upon an open cavern with oxygen and water. A strange figure with blazing blue eyes kneels by the edge of the pool, oddly surrounded by a mass of other sandtrout. [[Join your brothers and sisters.|7A]] [[Focus on the waters and finally drink your fill.|7B]]

Now's as good as time as any! You sip carefully from the edge of the great waters before you begin the excretion process into the pool. You discover you aren't alone, more lazy sandtrout lounge nearby. After a great many settings of the dual moons, you feel an irresistible urge to form closer with your brothers and sisters, unicellular structure beginning to join as you communally excrete your pre-spice mass into the cistern's pool of which your body is now one with. The fungusoid wild growth begins, CO2 gas building to incredible levels until a grand spice blow erupts, pouring the green gelatinous material over the surface of the planet to dry in the sun, becoming the melange...the spice. [[Rest in the sun.|8A]] [[Bury yourself.|8B]]

Somehow, where most sandtrout died you have survived, but are weak and exposed. You quickly bury yourself before the sun dries you out entirely. A darkness washes over you and you sleep...six months later you begin to stir once again. You feel at home in the sands in a way you never did before! You can move through it as you could once move through water...WATER! The very thought of it disgusts you. The sand, the spice, is life. You feel a pulsing rhythm that intrigues your new mind. [[Swim and find others like you.|9A]] [[Follow the rhythm.|9B]]

You lay in the sand, feeling sunlight for the first, and last time. It doesn't take long before you are unable to move as you bake, and are devoured by a passing sandworm.

You're nobody's fool. You didn't grow up to be a big worm by being all precocious. You exercise considerable caution as you approach the rhythmic sound. But soon, you are distracted. You feel an even deeper pull. Breaking off swiftly, you head toward the sensation of an even stronger vibration. Your prey is directly above you. Oh yeah, this is it. Amassing all of your power you surge toward the surface. You burst forth! All Fire and Glory and Shit! Alas, it's not actual prey that fills your mouth but metallic grossness. You die choking on a giant spice harvester.

[[Jerry Belich|https://jerrytron.com]] ([[@j3rrytron|https://twitter.com/j3rrytron]])