I didn’t expect to find the tar pits quickly, but with no maps and practically no helpful Uli who would provide directions, it took even longer than I expected.
Not that I was in a rush, and time was weird for me now, having experienced so much of it. I wasn’t bothered by the time my journey took me, and on the whole enjoyed it. I fished with my spear, hunted down mantises—half for sport, because fuck the uqandu, and half for their backstraps when I tired of seafood—and explored slowly, careful not to overshoot my destination. If I accidentally sailed past the tar pits, I might never find them.
When I found them, though, there was no chance of missing it. The smell from the pits alone was impossible to miss, especially with my sensitive Uli nose.
It wasn’t just the smell of the gasses and the asphalt, but also the smell of death. Mirulu and other animals sometimes stepped into these pits, unaware that it would spell their doom, and once stuck would either starve to death or be an easy meal for predators, who in turn would also often get stuck in the tar pits.
No doubt the area was rich in fossils of long-dead species, possibly even ancient Uli or their ancestors, and I was incredibly interested in what lay within, but the Uli weren’t advanced enough to care about that sort of thing. Nor were they social enough that I could recruit for a dig, which we didn’t really have the tools for anyway, but could possibly do with Blood techniques.
Perhaps in generations, when the local civilization had advanced enough to care about ancient history, they would uncover the trapped relics of biological history and learn about how things came to be.
In any case, that wasn’t my goal. I just wanted some of the contents for waterproofing, to make a bigger and better boat. Not that I had any idea how I was going to do that, especially since I also didn’t have tools.
First, I needed to find any pitch that had already formed naturally, since I didn’t have the wood to boil down rainwater-diluted bitumen. Sun evaporation would take ages, but there was likely some that was already somewhat distilled if I looked around. All the while, I had to avoid getting stuck in the pits myself, lest my Uli body become a fossil for future Uli civilization to study.
I carved some stone bowls to collect the pitch, which couldn’t be too large since they got heavy fast, and while I was strong, I still had limits. Had I been able to cast [Empower], I could have surpassed some of those limits, but I kept my collection bowls within the size that a natural Uli should be able to move around, even full of pitch.
To actually collect the stuff, I carved a large shovel—really more of an oversized spoon—out of a bone which I managed to extract form a dead mirulu I found in one of the pits using [Blood Control]. I collected as much bone as I could, especially the big ones, since that would be my building material.
Building a hull out of bone was absurd, admittedly, but it was the only material I had. I just hoped it would survive any shear forces applied to it while sailing. That was one of the major problems with using stone, as stone “planks” thin enough to use as a hull would crack under the slightest shear force.
Weight wasn’t so much an issue, for the same reason humanity could build steel behemoths that could ship tonnes of goods across the ocean; the weight of the amount of water displaced was enormous. I had to build a big enough boat to displace enough water to counter the weight of the boat itself. In a perfect world, I would do the math to calculate that, but I had no way to take measurements.
I didn’t even know how big I was, relative to a human, since I had no basis of comparison at all. Nothing in this world was the same as my previous worlds, and unless I could study the base truth of this universe itself—which might also not be the same—there was no easy way for me to establish any sort of baseline.
So I was naval engineering on vibes. Archimedes, I was not.
The bones were cut into lengths, but bones were round and hollow, and I needed a largely flat hull. I would flip every other length around, which made my hull slightly ribbed.
I cut mortises and tenons into the bone to connect lengths, and used tongue and groove to connect them edge to edge. Each and every one of those connections was absolutely slathered in pitch.
The carving took a lot of time. The entire project was going to take ages. Had there been any available distractions, I might never have finished it, but with nothing else to do, it stayed my sole focus.
I had to hunt down a mirulu, alone, for additional bone, partway through the construction. I would need the hide as well, for a sail. It was also to feed myself, though there was no way I could eat all that meat before it would spoil, even using every preservation trick I had learned from my tribe. Taking down a mirulu solo was probably a huge accomplishment for an Uli, but it wasn’t really that hard to spike a powerful blood spear through its eye and into its brain, which killed it pretty easily. I just had to face it head on and avoid its tusks during the charge, though my lack of fear about death was probably a factor that helped with regards to that.
Bit by bit, a boat of bone took shape before me. I still had no idea if it would work, but it made a very impressive model, even marred by black pitch seeping from every crack.
It wasn’t a large boat, since bone really was a terrible building material. It was larger than the biggest canoes I had built back at the tribe, but it was still a relatively small sailboat. It had a deeper keel, though, as I didn’t want to capsize out at sea, and that would support a larger sail.
When the hull was finally complete, I absolutely slathered the entire thing in more pitch, since bone was porous and I needed the hull to be watertight. That was a necessity so the boat actually displaced the water beneath, rather than letting it right through and sinking.
I wasn’t sure if that would be enough, though, so I sewed a hide covering, similar to the kayaks and canoes we had built in the tribe. I knew those could be waterproof enough to keep our boat skeletons afloat, so after applying a second coat of pitch, I stretched the hide jacket over the solid hull, applied pitch to the seams, and let the whole thing sit out in the sun to dry and cure.
Sitting back and looking over my creation, I wondered if it was madness or brilliance. Whether or not it worked would determine the answer to that, I supposed.
There was no rush, so I allowed it to sit for a while, while I worked on building out other things I would need for a proper voyage. If I wasn’t coming to land regularly, there were things I should bring with me, though I had to be cognizant of weight and space in the boat.
I hollowed out a short length of femur, wrapping and capping it in pitched hide, to make a kind of bucket. That would allow me to bail water if I took any on. I also made another one to store some extra pitch, in case I needed it, and capped that off with some more hide. I built some more oars, in case I needed them, and some extra spears, in case I lost mine while fishing, since I was depending on being able to get fish during the journey.
Finally, there was no point in delaying any longer. It was time to test the boat.
The moment the hull touched the water was possibly the most stressful moment of my life as Mali so far. There had been stressful moments like my First Blood ritual, but those had all been about destruction, whereas this was the stress that came from creation. In my opinion, that was much more impactful. I had felt similarly when we tested out the early boats, but I had invested less time into those and put way less of my own energy into it. This was a huge project that took more time than I cared to admit, and as I watched it settle into the water and float, a massive grin split my face.
Floating was only the first hurdle. It had to hold my weight, then hold together in motion, but the fact that it didn’t immediate sink was definitely a good start.
It still needed some more work, like a rudder, so I set to it. Fully committed now, I cannibalized my old boat, which gave me some more materials to work with, and it wasn’t long before I was ready for the inaugural voyage.
The first trip was just up and down the coast, testing the boat out, and making sure it wouldn’t break apart and sink—or that I could swim to shore if it did. That would have been devastating, but in theory, I could come back from it.
Fortunately, that didn’t happen, so once I finished up some final preparations, it was time to set off into deeper waters.
Spending that first night sleeping in the boat with no shore in sight was difficult, but it got easier the next night. It was colder out at sea, but I had a hide blanket to cover myself with, though that was quickly soaked through as well. But I was hardy, with a high Brawn and [Blood Restoration], so I powered through.
My first discovery was a small island. There were no Uli on it, nor much life at all, and I could walk around it in a day. Still, it was untouched land, and that was thrilling.
“I name this Mali Island,” I declared to no one.
There wasn’t really anything to do on this small island, although there were lots of fish in the shallower water here, which I replenished myself with. I had sailed for days to find this island, though I could probably get back to the mainland in less time if I headed straight back in the direction of my homeland. But, buoyed by my first successful exploration of virgin lands, I set out again in search of something new.
Except, this time, after days of sailing, I found nothing but open waters. I was still able to spear the occasional fish, and the boat was holding together, but I was starting to get a bit nervous.
I was far enough away from land that if I ran out of food, I ran the risk of failing to make it back before starvation set in. There was only so much toughing out I could do with [Blood Restoration] before I was simply out of my reserves. Blood was recovered from food and sleep, and food was an important part of that.
“Just one more day,” I told myself. “If I don’t find something tomorrow, I’ll head back.”
*
The storm came out of nowhere.
Maybe a more seasoned sailor would have caught it. There weren’t that many storms back home, though, and I apparently hadn’t developed a sense for when they were approaching. They came on quick and passed just as quickly, easy enough to weather, but that was only true on land.
Out at sea, the storm was something else altogether.
There was just enough time to secure my sail down before it hit, which I hoped would save me from losing it and my mast. I clung desperately to it, praying to the local administrator that the boat would hold together as whipping winds and powerful waves crashed into it, threatening to destroy my masterpiece. Four hands wasn’t enough to keep a hold of everything while holding down the sail; I held on to my ivory-tipped spear and bail bucket, but watched helplessly as the storm stole most of my spare spears and oars, as well as my food reserves.
At that point, there was nothing I could do but wait, and hope this wouldn’t spell the end of this life. It was a decent run, if so, but I wanted more from it.
Eventually, the storm passed me by. I remained un-sunk, which was all I could really ask for. Unfortunately, my primitive rudder had broken off entirely and was lost, as was most of my stuff.
“That’s okay,” I lied to myself. “I still have my sail. I have my spear. The wind just needs to take me to fish.”
The further out I got, the harder it was to find fish to spear. Oceans were huge, and naturally, huge chunks of it were empty, especially at the surface. I needed to find shallower waters if I wanted to catch fish. The only shallower waters I knew about were back the way I came, but without a rudder, I had limited control over my direction, and I had no idea how far the storm had pushed me.
I knew vaguely which direction was back home, based on sunrise and sunset. If I waited for the right winds, and took down my sail for the wrong ones, could I make it?
Though, if I didn’t catch a fish in the next three days, I would probably die, and I was much more than three days from the shores I had left from. There was no chance of rediscovering Mali Island, which had been my staging ground to get out this far without issue, but getting back had depended on my lost food and rudder.
“All right, universe,” I sighed as I unfurled my sail. “I’m putting my trust in you. Admin, if you’re listening, and can send me favorable winds, I’d appreciate it.”
I didn’t have time to take down my sail and wait for exclusively homeward-bound winds, not without food reserves. I would let the winds carry me wherever they were going. Hopefully, they would take me to land, or at least better waters where I could catch something.
Three days later, I was starving.
Well, so much for this life, I found myself thinking.
Even if I found a fish soon, I wasn’t sure I could spear it. I felt awful, and was just trying to stay awake as the sun above cooked me. At least I hadn’t hit another storm, but as I starved to death, I decided I didn’t want to die this way again in a future life.
“Isn’t that right, bird?” I asked the bird perched on the edge of my boat.
I blinked, processing that thought, until my last vestiges of my survival instincts kicked in. I didn’t risk using my spear; I immediately stabbed out with [Blood Control] and skewered the bird with whatever I had left in me, which wasn’t much. But it was enough to kill the bird, which I tore into, eating the meat and drinking the blood.
Bird wasn’t really the right word for these creatures. They were more like a bat, with a membrane stretched between their upper and lower pairs of wing arms, but that gave them a lot more membrane to fly with than the Earth bats, which let them grow larger and fly father. They were still only so large, and it wasn’t much food for me, but it was enough to think.
Birds meant land.
I sat back up in my boat, and studied the waters. I still couldn’t see anything, but as hours passed, I soon saw the telltale splash of a fish near the surface.
This time, I used my spear, and soon was eating a second meal. All thoughts of giving up and dying were behind me, and I continued peering in the direction I was being carried, hoping against hope I could spot anything that would get me off this boat.
It took another couple of days, in which the fish became increasingly plentiful, but finally, I saw it.
Land.
The winds shifted, and I raced to secure my sail before it carried me away. Now that land was within sight, I would only open the sail when the winds carried me in that direction.
Fighting the winds with no rudder or oars was an exercise in patience, and I had to remind myself to fish and eat because I had no idea how long it would take me to finally reach shore. It felt like I was fighting for every inch, but slowly, the land grew on the horizon, and I could start to make out details.
There was something moving on the shore.
I grew excited as I got closer and closer. Whether they were animals or people, I couldn’t wait to reach land, eat a big meal, and recover.
Not long after, I was close enough to make out more details. The movement was definitely people, and more than that, there were actual structures along the shoreline. Stone structures. This was a real settlement.
I stood on my boat, calling out and waving with a big smile on my face, and people started to gather at the beach.
As my boat came within range of the shore, and I caught a whiff of the scent of smoke on the breeze. Between that, and the stone structures, I knew then that these were not the Uli that I had come to know in this world. And when I could finally make out the finer details of the gathering people, I only had a few moments to take it all in before they, in turn, reacted to me.
That was when the screaming started.