It was a tube made of flesh. It made slopping noises. It spoke of fields and cowbells and walks under a yellow sun.
It loved another flesh tube. They entwined their maniple-pods and ambulated as a pair. Their names were “dahhn” and “jooolya.”
These particular flesh tubes were fond of poetry. They were kind to other tubes. They helped tubes that had difficulty locating digestible matter. They dirtied their world to a somewhat lesser extent than their fellow tubes.
I encountered these tubes under a stand of large herbaceous organisms. The odd yellow sunlight filtered down. I was disguised as another tube, although not terribly convincingly.
The tubes were curious. They inquired as to my health. “Joolya” offered me digestible matter and a berth where I might enter a brief circadian coma to replenish glandular compounds.
I was touched. The kindness of these tubes convinced me that their fellow organisms might have potential to better themselves. These two might even have been the hope of their species.
I pondered this notion. The hope of their species! What an honor to meet these tubes!
They were delicious.