I walk out the door to check out what the Yellow had found. Through the link, I could feel that it probably wasn’t dangerous but the Yellow wasn’t capable of explaining much beyond that. Just outside of the building a small semi-circle of Yellows has formed. All of them are watching the sign hanging on the front of the building intently. I look at the sign closely as well to try to determine what about “ Clearwater Dinner, Open 5 A.M to 10 P.M.” is so enticing. A closer examination shows me that the sign is lit by small lights placed at the base of the sign, but that was not the cause of interest. Finally, I noticed the slightest wavy movement across the sign, like a very faint heat haze. Switching quickly back and forth between the Mundane and the Other I realize that the shimmer is only visible in the Other.

I command the Yellows to go search for resources elsewhere and summon over one of the Reds. Searching my implanted memories I gain a clearer idea of what this is. This is a pseudo-spirit, and a well-formed one, usually the only way to find one was by accident during normal essence gathering. Like a normal spirit, a pseudo-spirit is a collection of meaning that has congealed and collects all similar meaning from the area. Unlike a normal spirit a pseudo-spirit is for one reason or another unable to gain greater self-agency allowing for mobility and self-defense. I could just have the Yellows destroy it immediately but that would be wasteful. I have one of the Reds come forward and lift me until I am on level with the sign.

I focus my mind on my right hand. After a little bit of time focusing, I can feel the different lines and swirls of power that make up my right hand. I can see another arrangement for the lines of force in my memories, this new arrangement somehow connected directly to the information about pseudo-spirits. As I focus the lines of power slowly shift within me to match this memory. The sensation is strange, I do not get any feedback as I change, no pain or pleasure, and yet I feel at a deep level that I am changing. As I come back out of my meditation I see that my right hand has warped, each finger lengthening and tapering until they come down to imperceptibly sharp threads of pseudo-chitin. The lines of power that compose my being run down these threads until they are almost exposed. The process took about two minutes according to the minds of the other Coptos, thankfully the Red could not tire from holding me up on level with the sign. In future, I should remember to cause changes like this in less exposed positions.

I reach forward towards the pseudo-spirit slowly, the threads are so delicate that I can feel if I move too quickly air resistance will cause them to break. Eventually, my hand draws close enough and I feel the threads sink into the invisible essence of the pseudo-spirit. The pseudo-spirit is pulled into my being along the thread not as the carefully filtered essence that Coptos feed upon but rather as raw meaning which begins to imprint itself upon my mind. I feel the importance of this sign to those who view it. Many know that seeing it means that they're getting close to home, others see it every morning as they go by on their way to labor elsewhere. To all, it is a key landmark and beacon of rest in a place with few public places and long journeys.

I draw back slowly, it is gratifying to know I was correct this is a place of rest but the meaning of the pseudo-spirit gave me a much deeper insight into what this place is and where we are in relation to mundane society. It is clear to me that in most circumstance this collection of meaning would have formed some kind of threshold spirit but because no one truly considers this place home the final transformation never occurred. I look back at the sign, the pseudo-spirit is gone now absorbed by me. I mentally store the important information away and begin to internally break down the excess thoughts and feelings that made up the pseudo-spirit. I may not have the essence processing ability of a Yellow but I can break down meaning over long periods of time if I need to.

I reconnect with my group and check-in how the rest of the gathering operation is going. It seems that a good amount of meaning has been gathered most of it from inside but a surprising amount also coming from the tubed machines standing outside of the building. I mentally call all of the scattered Coptos to gather back up and prepare to leave. I take one last look at the exterior of the rest building. While necessary I feel somewhat melancholy about the gathering of meaning that we have pulled off of the structure. Meaning is a two-way street and as meaning is created by attention and emotion in the Mundane so too is perception in the Mundane influenced by meaning in the Other. I have no doubt based on the information I have about gathering that this place will feel in the Mundane more sterile and temporary, unconsciously fewer people will notice it and care less about it. Still, essence is life and my regret fades as we lope down the road away towards new places.