The name is obscure; I wouldn’t expect anybody to know it. Edward Wightman was an English Anabaptist who died in 1612. You’d have to dig further from there, although it isn’t necessary to understand the story.
Editor’s Note: ‘cross’ is supposed to be capitalized.
I looked up “Palouse Earthworms” and they live right on the other side of the mountains from us. Of course, I’ve seen foot-long worms in my yard; I’m assuming there is an official way to measure them when they aren’t stretched out like a rubber band.
According to WikiPedia, the place where facts go to die, they dig up to 15 feet down. How would they know? It’s impossible to dig past 18 inches in the glacial till that covers our state. I detect more SCIENCE! at work.
I do concede your point, though: mysteries surround us. Ask anyone who has ever changed out their own broken garbage disposal and you’ll inevitably hear, “What, exactly, is the gross inside the plumbing, how did it get there, and why is it registered to vote?!”
We are as one mind on the horticulture which informs the world-building.
However, your *humble artist and microbiolgy-trained hugel-kultur-ing correspondant is *not* the storyteller. And I do not want spoilers! So you are correct about the mysterious depths , but not why. I look forward to finding out.
I’m not sure if Gustav is telling the truth or (Clinton lip-bite pout) “what the meaning of truth is”. It’s a deep and twisted mystery. I’ll be happy if it’s not “Them!” (old sci-fi movie reference” or something like giant naked mole-rats. Whatever it is, I’d feel better facing it with a loader and Carl Gustav; 84mm recoilless rifle with frag and incendiary rounds makes a big dent in a lot of things.
Those weapon choices would certainly work… but we have a world with pointy sticks, an occasional sword, and converted pruning tools. There *are* a few things we haven’t revealed yet…
*Sigh* I’ve read too much Larry Corriea, if that’s possible (forgive me, ILOH). Well, some pruning tools and hooks, a couple of swords, and we get … The Plowshare of Doom! (cue ominous music). But it needs someone with Ultra-Plus Arms to work it. Nuts. All right, there’s always native wit and guile.
Tempest in a Teardrop: The Churchians 
More in-group references. Nice.
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The name is obscure; I wouldn’t expect anybody to know it. Edward Wightman was an English Anabaptist who died in 1612. You’d have to dig further from there, although it isn’t necessary to understand the story.
Editor’s Note: ‘cross’ is supposed to be capitalized.
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An aetherial sonnet? A poem written by a blow-hard?
Someone who’s blowing smoke?
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Pretty much. Box uses a lot of highfalutin fancy-pants high-British colloquialisms, mostly because they are so much fun to come up with.
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Even with the benefit of a high-cabbage German diet, are worms capable of producing “aetherial sonnets?” They don’t have fingers to pull…
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Everyone with a tongue is capable of lying; don’t get to hung up on the arms… or lack thereof.
Do *you* think Gustav is telling the truth?
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Actually, I could accept his truthfulness but that’s based on soil studies and gardening and not my take on his character.
We know less about what lives a few feet down in our own backyards than what lives in the deep oceans a half-mile down.
Look up giant Palouse earthworms! There’s an underground dweller for you.
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I looked up “Palouse Earthworms” and they live right on the other side of the mountains from us. Of course, I’ve seen foot-long worms in my yard; I’m assuming there is an official way to measure them when they aren’t stretched out like a rubber band.
According to WikiPedia, the place where facts go to die, they dig up to 15 feet down. How would they know? It’s impossible to dig past 18 inches in the glacial till that covers our state. I detect more SCIENCE! at work.
I do concede your point, though: mysteries surround us. Ask anyone who has ever changed out their own broken garbage disposal and you’ll inevitably hear, “What, exactly, is the gross inside the plumbing, how did it get there, and why is it registered to vote?!”
LikeLiked by 2 people
We are as one mind on the horticulture which informs the world-building.
However, your *humble artist and microbiolgy-trained hugel-kultur-ing correspondant is *not* the storyteller. And I do not want spoilers! So you are correct about the mysterious depths , but not why. I look forward to finding out.
*aspirationally speaking
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I’m not sure if Gustav is telling the truth or (Clinton lip-bite pout) “what the meaning of truth is”. It’s a deep and twisted mystery. I’ll be happy if it’s not “Them!” (old sci-fi movie reference” or something like giant naked mole-rats. Whatever it is, I’d feel better facing it with a loader and Carl Gustav; 84mm recoilless rifle with frag and incendiary rounds makes a big dent in a lot of things.
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Those weapon choices would certainly work… but we have a world with pointy sticks, an occasional sword, and converted pruning tools. There *are* a few things we haven’t revealed yet…
LikeLike
*Sigh* I’ve read too much Larry Corriea, if that’s possible (forgive me, ILOH). Well, some pruning tools and hooks, a couple of swords, and we get … The Plowshare of Doom! (cue ominous music). But it needs someone with Ultra-Plus Arms to work it. Nuts. All right, there’s always native wit and guile.
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I’ve read plenty of Larry Corriea too. We aren’t stepping on his toes.
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I hope that they don’t bring an auto down there and ride it together in the passages. They might get carpool tunnel syndrome.
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Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.
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