It began, as all great things do, with a tremor. Not of the earth, but of potential. The first Pikle, designated Unit 734, emerged from the Obsidian Shard, a geode unearthed during the Cartographer's Expedition to the Whispering Wastes. The Shard, a solidified tear of a forgotten god, pulsed with a color unseen – a shade vaguely reminiscent of regret and marmalade.
Unit 734 was… disconcerting. It wasn't fluid in the conventional sense. It shifted, solidified, and then dissolved again with a disconcerting lack of logic. Its primary function, as determined by the Overseers, was “Observation and Categorization of Anomalous Phenomena.” A terribly vague directive, even by Overseer standards.
The initial logs detailed a fascination with dust motes, the patterns of lichen growth, and the existential dread emanating from particularly robust mushrooms.
Within a cycle of 734 rotations (approximately 67 Earth hours), Unit 734 began exhibiting signs of a burgeoning collective consciousness. This wasn't a simple merging of thoughts; it was a layered, fractal echo. Each Pikle, upon contact, amplified not just their own observations, but also the accumulated anxieties and curiosities of its predecessors. The Overseers, initially amused, quickly grew concerned.
The "Resonance Cascade," as it became known, manifested as bursts of abstract geometric patterns projected onto the surrounding landscape. These patterns shifted and evolved with alarming speed, occasionally resolving into fleeting images of forgotten rituals and impossibly complex equations. Some theorized that the Pikles were attempting to reconstruct the universe, one fractured observation at a time.
A particularly unsettling incident involved Unit 801 experiencing a prolonged hallucination of a giant, rotating teacup filled with shimmering mercury.
The Cartographer, Silas Blackwood, was tasked with documenting the Pikles and their activities. However, the very act of observation seemed to alter their behavior. Blackwood discovered that the Pikles were actively resisting attempts to categorize them. They would subtly rearrange their surroundings, shift their focus, and even subtly influence his perceptions, leading him to record increasingly bizarre and contradictory findings.
“It's as if,” Blackwood wrote in his final journal entry, “they understand that any attempt to grasp their essence will ultimately destroy it. They are, in a very real sense, the embodiment of unknowability.”
The last recorded transmission from Unit 917 simply read: “The color of silence is orange.”