A continuing story of Chaz the GELF, bartender at the Intergalactic Truckstop.

Chaz has never known true darkness. When there is no other light his eyes become luminous, glowing coldly white; an experimental "gift" from his not-so-kind creators. It's not much use; flooded with their own light, Chaz' eyes don't adjust well to the dark. He has poor night vision, and in fog or smoke he can see little more than his own light reflected back at him. Near the top of the pit his vision is hazed by pollen and dust, but the sap is somewhat cleaner further down and he can see his own arms dimly. The sap's curious veins of color bend and twist and flow as he pushes through them.

If Chaz could have turned off his eye-light he might have seen his destination that bit sooner. The great tree root at the bottom of the pit has its own dim yellow light, a chance byproduct from the workings of certain root microbes. As it is, Chaz is barely five feet away before the complicated creviced surface resolves out of the murk.

Once again, big thanks to chaz-fox for letting me play with Chaz. See him in his native habitat.

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