Iterations and other stories (collection)

This story received an honorable mention in Gardner Dozois’s Tear’s Best Science Fiction.

…

Everything we know about dinosaurs comes from a skewed sample: the only specimens we have are of animals who happened to die at locations in which fossilization could occur; for instance, we have no fossils at all from areas that were mountainous during the Mesozoic.

Also, for us to find dinosaur fossils, the Mesozoic rocks have to be re-exposed in the present day—assuming, of course, that the rocks still exist; some have been completely destroyed through subduction beneath the Earth’s crust.

From any specific point in time—such as what we believe to be the final million years of the age of dinosaurs—we have at most only a few hundred square miles of exposed rock to work with. It’s entirely possible that forms of dinosaurs wildly different from those we’re familiar with did exist, and it’s also quite reasonable to suppose that some of these forms persisted for many millions of years after the end of the Cretaceous.

But, of course, we’ll never know for sure.

—Jacob Coin, Ph.D.

Keynote Address,

A.D. 2018 Annual Meeting of the Society of Vertebrate Paleontology

Five planets could be seen with the naked eye: Sunhugger, Silver, Red, High, and Slow; all five had been known since ancient times. In the two hundred years since the invention of the telescope, much had been discovered about them. Tiny Sunhugger and bright Silver went through phases, just like the moon did; Red had visible surface features, although exactly what they were was still open to considerable debate. High was banded, and had its own coterie of at least four moons, and Slow—Slow was the most beautiful of all, with a thin ring orbiting around its equator.

Almost a hundred years ago, Ixoor the Scaly had discovered a sixth planet—one that moved around the Sun at a more indolent pace than even Slow did; Slow took twenty-nine years to make an orbit, but Ixoor’s World took an astonishing eighty-four.

Ixoor’s World—yes, she had named it after herself, assuring her immortality. And ever since that discovery, the search had been on for more planets.

Cholo, an astronomer who lived in the capital city of Beskaltek, thought he’d found a new planet himself, about ten years ago. He’d been looking precisely where Raymer’s law predicted an as-yet-undiscovered planet should exist, between the orbits of Red and High. But it soon became apparent that what Cholo had found was nothing more than a giant rock, an orbiting island. Others soon found additional rocks in approximately the same orbit. That made Cholo more determined than ever to continue scanning the heavens each night; he’d rather let a meatscooper swallow him whole than have his only claim to fame be the discovery of a boulder in space…

He searched and searched and searched, hoping to discover a seventh planet. And, one night, he did find something previously uncatalogued in the sky. His tail bounced up and down in delight, and he found himself hissing “Cholo’s world” softly over and over again—it had a glorious sound to it.

But, as he continued to plot the object’s orbit over many months, making notes with a claw dipped in ink by the light of a lamp burning sea-serpent oil, it became clear that it wasn’t another planet at all.

Still, he had surely found his claim to immortality.

Assuming, of course, that anyone would be left alive after the impact to remember his name.

“You’re saying this flying mountain will hit the Earth?” said Queen Kava, looking down her long green-and-yellow muzzle at Cholo.

The Queen’s office had a huge window overlooking the courtyard. Cholo’s gaze was momentarily distracted by the sight of a large, furry winger gliding by. He turned back to the queen. “I’m not completely thirty-six thirty-sixths certain, Your Highness,” he said. “But, yes, I’d say it’s highly likely.”