Most of you know that I write (HL.net) and it is a gratifying hobby. At HL.net alone, over 30,000 have stopped by to check out my fiction, essays, and non-fiction.
Sooo, Chrispy has put his imagination to work.
Long ago, when Cthulhu came to sleep beneath the waves, we can gather that humans were non-existent. However, as the mighty sleeper shut down consciousness - if such can explain the alienness of the others - a part played. Looking about by uber-telepathic means, insects and plants and saurian species were boring. Fish, sharks, and mollusks were also mundane.
Then, a spark of sentience.
Cthulhu looked and admired the sleek form of the cephalopod. The beauty of the flexible legs. Skin filled by chromatophores, the rubbery thing changed colors, forms, and shapes at will. When Cthulhu's interest touched the octopus, it was unlike other creatures on other planets. The octopus did not recoil, but rubbed it's modicum of a brain against it's master.
The cuttlefish scurried to curry attention, and Cthulhu played with pebbles that the cuttlefish pushed back.
Cthuhu smelled the iron blood of the land creatures and loathed the odor. It reminded the god too much of the molten mantle of Earth over which it slept. The cool copper blood of the octopus was clean and different.
Cthulhu shrigged, stretched, and - - changed. It adapted the new form of the cephalopod. It was pleased, and then dozed back asleep - - until anthropodic apes raised their heads and began to pray to the outer gods. Cthulhu was not pleased that men prayed to it.
***
Some of this was inspired by an article by Jaron Lanier, "Why Not Morph? What Cephalopods Can Teach Us About Language." Discover, April 2006, pp.26,27.
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