The Traveling Tree

Koyov

There was a tree — a type of tree — that had lived a very long time, and, having lived through catastrophe, it had developed a great sense of the world.

This tree — we call it Koyovuium — had three great skills.

It was a master of chemistry: through trial and error, it had learned to make many natural substances and use them to its advantage.

It was a master of relations: like most trees, it understood systems well, and was deeply embedded within a vast web of beings.

It was a master of time: if there is one thing that teaches patience and survival, it is needing to stand still across aeons.

When it first came into existence, it was not a very tall tree. But over the aeons, Koyov — as we can say for short — grew, and grew, and grew.

Growth

Being such a tall tree, it was not difficult to gather sunlight. But transporting water and nutrients from the ground all the way up grew harder and harder as the tree grew and grew. So, summoning the help of a few clever microorganisms, it developed filters and learned ways to extract and utilize water and nutrients from the air through its thousands of leafy branches.

Eventually, Koyov was taller than most trees.

Now, internal communications became an issue. Imagine sending thought signals across such vast distances, traversing different vertical environments. So clever Koyov developed multiple semi autonomous neural centers — tree brains, if you will — one near the roots, one near the top, and a few along the body of the trunk. Koyov was clever indeed.

Eventually, Koyov was as tall as mountains.

There was another obstacle: gravity. An enzyme of existence, yes, but it makes it difficult for things to grow too tall.

Fortunately, Koyov was a brilliant engineer. Through the aeons, it engineered a tetrahedral silicon-nitrogen network structure to support itself. To say it simply: it used the materials at its disposal to give itself a very strong body so that it could reach the edges of the world.

Eventually, Koyov towered over everything. Even the highest cloud looked up to Koyov.

Why would a tree grow so tall? At first, there was no apparent answer. Ah, but then one day, one of its seeds exploded.

The Seed

On that particular day, the explosion echoed through the skies. It originated from the end of one of the highest, most massive branches. The branch was curved, with the end pointed towards the sky, and the chemical explosion launched the seed high in the air, like a cannon. It went up and up and up. And then it arched, and began to fall.

This was the first attempt, and it had taken a toll. The reaction had required tremendous energy to launch, and the blast had left Koyov weak and partially damaged. The worst part is the seed had failed. After several more attempts, this instance of Koyov was too weak and damaged, and died.

Of course, other instances of Koyov lived on, and they made their attempts as well, refining their process and making their seeds more aerodynamic and the launching mechanisms more efficient and controlled.

But it was still not enough. Only a few seeds slipped past the edge of the world. And the seeds were quite helpless. Their probability of survival did not justify the sacrifice.

But then, one day, Koyov hatched a bird.

The Bird

It was difficult to coax a bird to live so high up, where the air was thin and nutrients were scarce. The only way was to create a habitat for it that was self-sustaining. It took a few generations to select an ideal species and tempt it — with the promise of safety and a unique, nutritious berry — higher and higher.

Once the bird was isolated and fully dependent on the tree, the bird’s behavior and design could be refined to the tree’s needs. Koyov began spiking the berries with a special fungus that could temporarily hijack the bird’s systems. There was no natural incentive for the bird to fly so high and try to escape the edge of the world. Mind control was the only resort.

Many instances of the bird died in the process. But with time, the bird developed a light but resilient exoskeleton. It learned flight maneuvers that took advantage of the updrafts and natural forces of the world. The bird flew, higher and higher, carrying Koyov’s seeds inside of it, approaching the upper limits of the world. As it reached the edge, a strong chemical reaction triggered from the bird’s backside, and so this is how the bird burst through the edge and into the void beyond the world.

The Long Journey

The bird, though intact, was never meant to survive. It was the vessel that carried Koyov’s memories through the dark emptiness, a protective capsule for the dormant seeds and the micro fungal web that accompanied it.

This fungus now took the reins and became captain of the ship. Energy needed to be conserved, and so most of the voyage was sleep. Thousands — millions — of years of cryptobiotic sleep. Every so often, the captain would wake a few sensors and monitor the landscape, and once in a while, it would release tiny amounts of gas through special pores in the bird’s skeleton — minimal course corrections.

One day, the little bio-ship detected the right spectroscopic and gravitational patterns and put into motion the final stages of its voyage. It used its chemical reserves to release final bursts of gas, just enough to push it on course to its new destination.

With resilience, and enough luck, this instance of the bio-ship would survive entry into the new world, and it would land. With even more luck, its assessment of the world would have been accurate, and the conditions of the world would be right, and the remains of the bird’s body would begin to break down, creating a small serving of organic porridge. The seed would wake up hungry, and feed, and eventually, it would begin to grow.

Rebirth

It will take a very long time for Koyov to start over, to rebuild and become the forest that it had been in the old world. It will take an even longer time to bring the bird back to life — ah yes, Koyov did not leave its companion to the dirt. It must find a way to reawaken this cosmic Phoenix, so that they may fly again.

Koyov is not of our world, not originally. We have determined that Koyov comes from a distant place — the third planet orbiting a medium sized star in the outer suburbs of the Milky Galaxy. Clever Koyov — master cartographer, interstellar wanderer — stands so still and yet moves across the cosmos far beyond anything else that we yet know of.

Deciphering Koyov’s genetic travel log and building this sanctuary has been my life’s work, and my greatest joy. I hope it is an equal thrill for you to explore our sanctuary and learn about this tree. Please tread with reverence and indulge your senses of exploration, yūgen, and wonder.

-Oti Lobra

Chief Warden

Koyovuium Sanctuary

Listen to the “Traveling Tree” poem on Instagram