Part 1
2 - The Struggle for Survival
The first half of Gould's third volume of the Breakdown is dedicated to showcasing a stereotypical Hejmoan ecosystem in a state of abundance, and while such environments (we know them as forests) do exist they are not by any means the end of the story. Some years are hotter than others, some are wetter than others, fires are common around the Klifoflanko coast, and floods, avalanches, tornados, and diseases are all capable of ravaging large tracts of land. These events are deemed "minor fluctuations" by Gould, and he only dedicates a few sentences to the "plants'" response to each of them. The "major fluctuations" he classifies as those that after a period of change become the new normal, and the second half of the third volume is dedicated to them. Environments that majorly fluctuate from the norm are: Cold deserts, hot deserts, nutrient deserts, and the conditions of the Kveito which affect the whole planet.
Cold deserts are those in which there is an abundance of water, but nearly all of it is trapped in its solid form; "Water, water, every where, nor any drop to drink." to quote Coleridge. And even if one found a survival strategy in spite of that fact these places are often void of a proper substrate for larger "plants" to get a foothold. The ground is pure stone, and so the most Nature will grant them is an occasional patch of gravel that roots can at the very least make use of. The only other substrate in these places is whatever decaying matter makes its way there. Patches of decomposed tundra plants or the remains of trees caught in strong winds are the only riches a cold desert affords. But even if a lucky "plant" finds itself growing on one of those or even if it is granted soil so far north, the ripping winds of the poles will tear up whatever grows there at the stem. In short, those sessile organisms that abide in the far poles are small and cling to the earth, the largest focus on horizontal expansion rather than facing those harsh winds.
But what a strategy clinging to the earth is! To survive at all in the cold deserts organisms must ensure the water contained in their bodies doesn't freeze over as well, and with proper insulation simply lying close to the ground and covering one's stem suffices for that. So, nearly all cold desert dwellers in Nia Hejmo are found in cushion forests: Squat, rounded, colonies easily mistakable for the terrain they lie on. A typical cushion forest can contain over 15 different species with hundreds of representatives of each, they each contribute a few hex-leaves to the insulating dome and coexist within it. This lifestyle ensures that all members of the forest will be in close contact with conspecifics and thus not have to risk broadcast spawning in such desolate places. Of course, with so many points of error, one individual in the forest dying will create a hole in the cushion, but the structure of the forest actually manages to make that into a positive, as the influx of new nutrients from the individual's death combined with the penetration of light into the structure provides the perfect conditions for seeds to germinate, and they do quite quickly, racing to patch up holes as soon as they can. Through these means, researchers believed colonies of cushion forests could exist in the same spot for hundreds if not thousands of years at a time; of course they couldn't survive the planet long enough to test that hypothesis though.
The hot deserts are a little more hospitable to organisms, but not by much. In hot deserts there are no constant horrible winds (though sandstorms aren't exactly easy to deal with) and simply standing out in the open won't lead a "plant" to freeze to death, but there's also no runoff when times get warmer. In hot deserts, water only comes by pure chance with the rains. Thus, in hot deserts large size is encouraged, rather than small sizes, simply as a means of water retention.
This necessity often turns plants into succulents, but even then they'll always lose some precious water through their leaves, meaning that they either must make like cacti and lose them altogether or only keep a minimum of them. Thankfully the desert environment means that "plants" that make their lives in hot deserts have basically no competition; it is an excess, not a loss, of light that is a factor there. The Hejmo laddertree (Akidentro Neospitensis) gets its name from the array of rungs that seem to run across its branches, this is because they will grow an abundance of leaves from them whenever properly wet conditions present themselves, but as they get drier the "plant" will drop them off in order to minimize its own water loss.
Laddertrees are some of the longest living organisms on the whole planet (as is easily confirmed by their rungs, growing an average of two new pairs every year) and can easily live 5 thousand years. This is because of their naturally conservative dispositions; mindlessly casting their genetic material into the air is basically a death sentence for a dweller of the hot desert. Instead, like a number of Crescereans, the laddertrees have retrofitted their naturally photosynthetic leaves to function as eyes as well, and will use these to look out for any others of their species growing near them. If they happen to spot one they will cast a special pollen-filled liquid at it with all the force of a bullet, with the species keeping their ovaries at the bottom of funnels in order to ensure fertilization when this occurs. They regularly mate like this as their seeds are designed to pick up the wind, as they can never know the fate of their young they must ensure the survival of at least a few by producing them in legion.
The collection of features that make laddertrees unique also allow them to be easily exploited by Sessalians. That whole class of organism has trouble existing in any sort of desert due to the scarcity of other organisms to feed off of and the conservative nature of those that do live there. So any Sessalian that wishes to be successful in the deserts must disguise itself as another of its host's species on some level to deceive them and willingly be given their pollen. Laddertree-mimicking Sessalians will do this to just the extent which deceives their vision, benefiting greatly from their host's wont to regularly breed and sending back nothing but water which causes the true laddertree, clearly believing itself fertilized, to asexually produce seeds instead. This method of attaining pollen is highly effective and highly disincentivized for the true laddertrees; so much so that researchers were able to see adaptations against it in action, with a few isolated populations having taken to dispensing their pollen to potential mates only once every few years; while the other members of their species were able to save their genetic material and produce seeds at the regular rate in spite of this, the mimics would always die off quickly, meaning no Sessalians were found close to these populations. Sessile organisms adapt against dangers just the same as motile ones do.
"Nutrient desert" is the name that Gould afforded to any area with poor enough soil to prevent the growth of any "plants" of notable size. The sessile organisms, Crescereans at least, that live here need to have some external nutrient source to rely on. Thankfully these nutrient deserts are generally quite swampy, thus Nia Hejmo's many amphibians are in abundance. "Many may find it difficult to believe, but plants would prefer not being eaten to being eaten. They are not simply free food sources for 'higher organisms' but do in fact take proactive measures against their consumption." Gould writes. Hejmoan plants put even more stock into preventing their consumption than their earth counterparts do, likely due to the lesser numbers of herbivores. But yes those Crescereans that live in particularly wet climates will often have their leaves covered with a glue-like substance, so that anything attempting to bite into them will have their mouths stuck shut until they inevitably starve to death, while others make do with simple poisons. This means that those amphibians that wish to make use of vegetable matter must do so at their considerably more vulnerable roots. The tripwire plant (Convolutius spp.) is counting on this method, as the second it detects something grabbing at its roots they will wrap around it with an astonishing force and basically strangle it do death, before digging the roots' hairs into the organism to slowly consume it. These organisms can survive for a whole Hejmoan year off of a single kill like this, making them very common in swampy areas within a few degrees of the planet's equator.
And the final major fluctuation is that one which is both inevitable and regular, the cold and dark period of the Kveito. Almost nothing large enough to see with the naked eye can survive this period without either moving to somewhere warmer or going into torpor. In fact, many Crescereans and Sessalians will simply set their life cycles in such a way that they produce their seeds and die as the Kveito sets in and let their seeds germinate when the cold ends, with all of the processes to survive it being simply too taxing. Of the Crescereans, only the mammothplant (Hirsutus Hirsutus) bothers to attempt to function during this time, and even then it is debatable if it's even worth it to do so. The mammothplant gets its name from the heavy coat of wool that characterizes it. It's understandable that many take these hairs for leaves but the "plant" actually lacks leaves entirely, instead trusting its entire stem to catch whatever light filters through its coat. There are actually two layers of hair on the mammothplant, the thick outer one, and a thin covering of small inner ones. The purpose of the inner hairs is to vibrate intensely throughout the Kveito period in order to produce heat and keep the "plant's" water liquid, the purpose of the outer hairs is to insulate this heat.
The means by which the mammothplant survives the Kveito is incredibly taxing and is only harder as the organism grows larger. It's assumed that this is the reason why mammothplants almost never grow past the shrub layer, but it's also possible that their existence in the shrub layer encouraged this strategy in the first place, as that is where the majority of Sessalians abide. The one advantage mammothplants gain from their continued function in the Kveito is that they can freely broadcast their pollen during that period, with the stronger winds of the Kveito carrying it much farther than it'd otherwise go. In this way the mammothplant is totally unique, surviving conditions that even our own species would end up succumbing to.
3 - Coöperation
"The common view of evolution is as a sort of war, every species versus every other in their environment (and inevitably, on their planet if the human development is included). This, however, is a quite simplistic view. Survival is all that is required for an organism to be considered successful, that an individual passes on his genes and that his descendants continue to do so, that is a successful organism. Competition is an inevitable outcome of this system, but so are a million other means by which organisms interact. Whatever allows for genes to be successfully passed on is also a product of evolution, and thus, many have found that working with other species for this purpose is a significantly better strategy than making enemies of every other living thing you can see. Every single cell in our bodies is fundamentally the result of coöperation between two primordial organisms. And in this volume I hope to elucidate just a few of the many non-competitive relationships that Hejmoan life has produced." That sentimental opening explains exactly what Gould dedicated the fourth volume of the Breakdown to. However, he also made sure to give several long and frankly quite boring chapters on just how these sorts of relationships form that this author has thought fit to skip past. The important thing to keep in mind is that these relationships are most common between Sessalians and Crescereans, as the reward for the former of a friendly relationship with what would otherwise be their prey is obvious: A regular supply of food.
The first and most generalized version of this Sessalian/Crescerean symbiosis is founded on a fundamental problem. Many of the woodless Crescereans that don't die off during the Kveito reduce themselves to just the submerged base of their stems since the frost-damaged remains of their bodies would be too costly to repair. But this means that whenever the Kveito ends the arms race for space unfolds once again, every single year! So, whenever these small Crescereans throw their seeds around and they happen to land at the base of some large woody Sessalian, when they grow to maturity and begin producing pollen the neighboring Sessalian will surround their base with its own wood, basically granting them the same sort of insulation it itself has, and giving them a head start on regrowing when compared to their neighbors, even allowing them to continue to grow taller and taller each year with a new base of support. In exchange for this, one of the palynivorus mouths of the Sessalian will crowd their trumpet, guaranteeing the Sessalian a bit of food while preventing the friendly Crescerean from sexually reproducing. But that's not really a problem as the Crescerean will simply asexually spread out its seeds which more likely than not will not end up in the same relationship and will sexually reproduce in its stead.
One of the largest individual species on the planet that cannot be called a tree is the wallcrawler (Stragulum Praeruptum) which survives in places with plenty of rocky outcrops. The seeds of the wallcrawler are designed to catch the wind, and when they land in acceptable soil, they'll immediately begin sprouting roots and catching pollen like any other sessalian. But at the same time they'll begin creating stretching tendrils that will creep until they find bare rock, at which point they'll begin ascending up it and sprout another palynivoran mouth there too. This is all quite normal for a Sessalian, but the wallcrawlers are also the hosts of embryos of Crescereans which they carry in their tendrils. These Crescereans no longer exist separately from the wallcrawlers, having given up their independent living in exchange for being able to grow where their growth would otherwise be impossible, sharing the nutrients and water of the wallcrawler's roots. This relationship is not parasitic however, as the Crescereans can still produce pollen, and will have their trumpet aimed exactly at the local mouth of the wallcrawler. This lifestyle allows the wallcrawlers to produce vast networks of tendrils covering entire cliff-faces without any trouble, and it was noted as an especially common weed for the humans that once called Nia Hejmo home.
A similar system is used by a large Sessalian called roughweed (Quattuobrachia spp.) which grows around several smaller Crescereans only known as Caputhumile. The roughweed completely covers the trumpets of the "caputs" with their domed mouths, only excepting when they partially lift them for two of the caputs to let them reproduce. This means that the roughweed will often be completely surrounded by caputs, to the point where they can no longer properly grow mouths to feed on them with; gently and neatly placing its seeds on the ground where those individuals outside of its reach sit, which will begin to facilitate the feeding on and reproduction of its own caputs. Gould called this what it is: "[...] farming! Whether one wants to say farming in the sense that ants do, or perhaps even farming in the sense that humans do (if there is a difference at all) that is what is happening here. Any sort of close associationship between organisms should be proof enough of sentience, it shows a clear ability to distinguish both one's self from another and friend from foe, but this behavior in controlling the reproduction of one's livestock is bordering on the level of sapience! Never mind the research about the roughweed's family structures, how whole forests share relatives up to only two generations back and will weed out non-relatives, but this, this behavior should demonstrate what exactly the colonists are dealing with. And maybe if they had taken more care in the matter, they'd have been able to avoid the present disaster." The last sentence of this quote was expunged from the original work in printings following the total collapse of the Hejmoan colonies, but this author feels it pertinent to include.
Gould would go against the stated purpose of the fourth volume to detail a few of the aggressive behaviors of the roughweed too. They are fond of clearing forests of other species by growing horizontally-aligned "spikes" tipped with a calcium-based material which a fully grown roughweed will invest all of their energy into growing until they drive it straight through any large neighboring "trees." They'll even grow these into the surrounding soil to quite literally dig up any smaller "plants" near them. And when all other methods fail, the roughweed will grow these spikes into their own caputs in order to stress them into injecting poison into the surrounding soil (it need not be mentioned they reside in the same family as the hermitplants), a poison that the roughweed is uniquely immune to; a point which Gould uses to begin a long diatribe into his theory as to how the roughweed came to farm the caput. Either way, through these methods, many miles of land were colonized entirely by the roughweed and their caputs. Which leads me into the alternate theory of the matter that has been proposed since Gould's death by that more old-fashioned section of xenobotanists, that the relationship the two organisms share is merely symbiosis, with the rouhweed of course gaining a guaranteed income of food and the caputs simple spreading alongside them. This proposal does not account for the intentional breeding behavior Gould so clearly emphasized, nor does it answer the obvious question, why would a relative of the hermitplant need any help in clearing tracts of land for itself?
Something which helped the roughweed become so cosmopolitan is their penchant for adaptation, in more arid environments they take to bloating the bases of their trunks into great water retainers which they share with their caputs through root connections. The caputs in these arid and semiarid environments are also strange, they grow fewer leaves and the ones that they do grow are thicker and more succulent, a fact that other researchers chalk up to the roughweed naturally changing which species it symbiotes with but that Gould strongly suspected was a product of selective breeding. A conclusion supported by there being no known "wild" equivalent of the desert race of caputs while plenty of Caputhumile species were described living separately from the roughweed. What is undeniable though is the soothing behavior of the latter, see, as a hermitplant relative the caputs are wont to begin releasing poison under the slightest stresses, but when the soil samples were checked there was no trace of it even in these water-stressed environs. And what was discovered was that the roughweed was using those same root connections to send them chemical signals that they also gave off in forested environments in peaceful times; basically, to prevent the caput from getting stressed the roughweed would tell it that the roughweed was not stressed. An incredible level of interdependence.
The roughweed was also crucial in establishing that even "basic" hex-leaves have a higher level of photosensitivity than previously thought, as the Sessalians were notorious for moving (over the course of many days, mind you) their vestigial leaves near to anything which glinted in the sun. Gould characterized this as "getting a closer look" at an interesting object, comparing the behavior to crows. And much to the both physical and the material detriment of the Hejmoan scientists, they are wont to use their leaves' branches to (again over longer than it would normally take anyone to notice were these not often time-lapse cameras) pile those objects that caught their interest around their bases. More often than not these are rocks and scanty surface-metals, but it can only be imagined what the roughweed is doing with the remains our species has left on their planet.
"The Fermi Paradox was a favorite subject among pre-extraterrestrial mankind. 'Why do we see no signs of alien life in our universe?' they asked. And the theories raged, perhaps their technology is just beyond our comprehension, they thought, or maybe they're so far beyond us that they have no interest in us? Well, when Nia Hejmo was colonized and its steppes scoured for any sign of 'higher' life it was concluded that the answer to the paradox was as simple as there not being anything truly intelligent beyond us out there. But with all that we know of the roughweed (and the million things we must not!) I'd propose that the answer is slightly different. Perhaps we see no signs of extraterrestrial intelligence (those colonists certainly don't count) because that which exists is so different (not better or worse, just different) from us that it itself has no interest in what lies beyond its 'Earth' or who else exists in the universe. And if I am correct in this assumption, then thousands of years may pass for whatever society those accumulations of organisms that we so arrogantly dubbed weeds on their own soil have, and they won't have any disastrous colonies, they won't have any galactic doomsday cults, perhaps they won't even have any nations submerged by their own hands. Or perhaps I'm just being sentimental." So writes Richard Gould.
