The biotechnological evolutionary end.
It’s hard to describe such a civilization that have doomed itself to exist in every way imaginable or not. At the very least, I can describe the baseline properties of their ever-existent nature but beyond that, we’re on the same level – to think that even I, am not an expert in the system I postulated. Talk about overachievements.
Nevertheless, celestials are entities whose entire culture is pretty much a eutopian equivalent of whatever I can think of. Maybe I got their names from Ben 10' blackbodied aliens whose minds contain literal versions of id, ego, and superego; or the humongous energy beings of Marvel, related to the physical universe solely by the vibranium-enhanced psycho-physiology of awakened planet-sized embryos; or the energy beings from a distant half-read scifi universe I found at some common art pages. For lack of a better name, I don’t care. These are my celestials, and they help me understand everything else easier.
New scientific knowledge? I wonder how I can implement that to the celestials.
New political idea? Celestials have self-elected gods that run the basic functions of civilizations, which can have that.
New breakthrough? The body of a celestial is made of everything we’ll ever learn.
New personal problem? If only I’m a celestial I wouldn’t have to put up with that.
Interpersonal disputes? If we’re both celestials, we’d settle this more systematically.
Grief-stricken by unwanted outcomes? If celestials exist, at least some other version of me could’ve gotten that.
Yeah, right. I’m lost in my own fantasy world it feels more real nowadays.
So, a recent idea came to mind.
How would celestials brawl?
Assuming they are of the same toposophic grade and cladistic inclination, let’s explore a full-scale baseline battle.
Starting from the fact that their natural habitats are their own bodies, every environment is equally alien but also equally simplified compared to their bodies. It all comes down to how overly sophisticated their dermal tissues are.
Strict deikaryotic homeostasis is the key. For all I have thought, with enough training and with the right learning environment, a celestial’s entire body can become a separate universe on its own.
When bodies become indestructible by default, death becomes an honorable choice, and forces of nature are now strings to pull off tantalizingly creative stunts, how do baseline celestials fight to their deaths?
There came a time I was so obsessed with celestials I dreamed they were fighting in our backyard, and that’s not even the coolest bit. It’s awesome enough that I can join them when I’m asleep in that dream (where I got the idea of dreamdriving but only was able to write it down now).
But, the blurred memory of dreaming that I can see the world through inhuman senses overlaid on top of one another? Exhilarating.
Though I’ve forgotten most of the details, there were a few scenes burned to my neocortex that started perpetuating the inner posthuman in me.
I remember at least seven of them. They were as elegant as elves, but as wild as orcs at the same time; androgynously peaceful like the caring Na’vi, but radiates dominance like the Promethean Engineers.
Each one as mechanically mindless in pursuit like xenomorph drones, but each also as coldly calculating in combat as an Yautja. If I knew the Tenno back then, their appearances would’ve been as vivid as a warframe’s techno-organic husk but fortunately, the god eaters’ biomechanical arcs are already in my mind.
Combined with quasipolymorphic bodies, mad parkour skills, sick teleportation glyphs, and synesthetic trashtalk spells, the fight looks more like an abominable tri-hybrid of a medieval ARMMORPG mineral-metal bladedance without the swords, a posthuman laser crossfire without the rifles, and a quidditch snitch-catching tournament without the brooms.
They were vaulting from ledge to ledge, swinging from bar to bar, somersaulting from roof to roof, leaping from floor to floor.
One moment an individual was running away and then literally disappeared. The next moment it was about to punch another individual’s jaw at ultrasonic speeds.
The other individual was just knocked back a few feet away, and you know what it said afterwards? I have no fucking clue. It’s like a bitterly brewed cocktail made of violently flickering bioluminescence, foully lingering pheromones, dissonantly deafening gibberish, and a sudden burst of gravitational waves. I can only imagine how offending must that be – like a glorified posthuman in-your-fucking-face.
Another scene was between three individuals, with three weapons each – one for each of their hands and one for their tails. And as if that wasn’t cool already, their hands have been shaped into swords, shined into metallic bones, and decorated with mineralogical fingernails to fashionably intimidate an opponent while gruesomely skewering them.
Some have their entire arms modified to load round after round of neutronium, then hollowed and lined with superconducting coils to accelerate the pellet into relativistic speeds that could’ve blasted a star by their own, but was just deflected by another’s callused elbow.
Every now and then, they jump so high up into the atmosphere all these actions are happening as if they’re walking on the clouds. And all the while, their torsional superfluid quasicrystal skin-mounted battery-spleens collect knockbacks and recoils like Black Panther but instead transforms and releases them into supercharged jabs and kicks that might as well shatter an asteroid.
Yeah, I know. I might just be making up the words as I write this, but it was one hell of a recreated scene. I doubt I'll be dreaming about something like that again.