How the tardigrade forged its armour.

By Tristan Cheung

Way back before Earth was created, there were void patches in the empty space of the universe. Each god, now grown-up, could fashion a world all of their own. Each often moulded it in their ideal place to be. All but one.

Named Kapu, the god of life wanted to create a world where his creations would flourish, and not shrivel from the harshness of the cosmos around. He created a world, a world filled with water and land and air, where even his wildest and weirdest conceptions would have everything they needed.

Then, he conjured up creatures from his vast imagination. Life forms which could breathe, move, think, innovate. Lifeforms which would recycle the air, still but alive. Lifeforms which could harness the wind and spread through the currents, spreading like flames.

And so, he created. He sketched and thought and wrote and dreamt until finally, he had thought of hundreds of thousands of creatures. There was just one problem. He needed to assign traits. And throughout his vast inner world, ideas were scarce and rare, leaving one creature without.

The tardigrade. Oh, the pitiful thing. Every other creature could fly, trick, walk, think, drink, sing, think; all but the pitiful tardigrade. Each day, it would climb to another hill, valley, mountain, crevasse, bathing in the solace of the solidarity around him. One day, however, something unexpected happened.

My eyes cracked at the sight of dawn, sunlight streaming through the blinds like an annoying brother. I looked around the room with groggy eyes, searching for the clock that would be there.

Surely, it was too early to wake up and face life, right?

I locked on to the clock, and groaned. Crawling out of bed, I started to prepare for the listless day to come. My house was a small, cozy place, with a bed, a cupboard, a window, a jug of water, and some small plants in my hopeless attempts to cheer up.

Most animals found it small, but it seemed best for me and my small size. I drank my dose of water, feeling the familiar clunk of everpresent armour that helped me with harder hikes. it was almost completely metal, encompassing my entire body. It had everything: tanks for underwater treks, an emergency “curl-up” mechanism, and even systems to cope with space.

Stepping outside, a genuine smile embraced my mouth, as it had done every other day. The world outside never ceased to amaze me, especially the inhabitants. That was a part of climbing a new mountain everyday; I would never get tired of the new scenery.

Speaking of treks, it was time to go on my daily hike. I checked the map, already knowing that my next location was atop somewhere otherworldly.

I finally arrived at Kapu’s place, the Father of all life. Unlike other gods, Kapu respected his creations like they were his “children”. None of us knew what he meant when the term came up, but when asked, he simply smiled his charming grin and said, “You’ll see, you’ll see.” It was befuddling, but he always had his reasons for being so mysterious. A chuckle interrupted my thoughts.

“Hello there! Here for your hike?” Kapu asked.

“Yeah!!” I replied enthusiastically. Both of us knew that below the suit, I was bouncing with excitement to see Mercury for the first time.

He laughed, clapping me on the back. “There’s the spirit I like to see! Anyways, where on Mercury are you hiking?”

I grinned, “Mount Ecna. I think I’m ready.”

He nodded, a hint of concern smudged his voice. “You sure? I mean, I could just recapture your soul if you die and recreate you, but that process is lengthy and painful, so maybe I should ju- ”

I tapped him. “You’re rambling.”

He nodded with a small sigh. “Take care.” He exerted an iota of his divine power, and I was off shooting to space.

Kapu pondered the grey blob for a moment. A flicker of an idea was slowly but surely growing.

I watched the world around me as the void zoomed past. This place was extraordinary, and each planet was crafted with the care and detail only a god could achieve. Looking up, I saw Mercury quickly approaching. As my eyes traversed the landscape, it was quite clear where I was heading. Looking up, I saw the giant mountain, far in the distance, but its size unmistakeable. And surely enough, there was another god. Sighing, I took the first step on a long, long journey.

After a long while, my mouth grew dry as I finally rolled over the last ledge. Finally, I was here: the highest mountain in this world. How did I make it here? I don’t quite know, but I definitely was grateful for the couple extra gears I found in me a way back. I was greeted with a surprised “Gah!”

A god had jumped away from me, befuddlement clear in his eyes.

I smiled. “Hello, sir! I came here from Earth!”

He nodded, still confused: “But… no. H-how did you even make it here?”

I beamed, pointing to my suit, “This! I made it myself! Do you like it?”

He paused. “How does it even wo- oh, you know what, I won’t question it.”

I paused as well, running my mind through the year-long forging process and how it worked. “Yeah, that’s probably a good decision.”

Plopping myself down, I admired the dusty, gleaming landscape. “Wow… This place is… unexpectedly beautiful. I do wish I could see it without my suit, though.”

He laughed. “At least I can. Kudos to you, kiddo, for making it here.”

I nodded. “Thanks! I also need a ride back though, so would you min-”

I was sent spiralling into space before I could finish my sentence, and my mind resorted to screaming instead.

Kapu glanced up as he heard a faint screaming noise, and then a thump.

I landed, bouncing several times and uncurling in front of Kapu. "Your godly brother definitely does not know the meaning of 'overkill'.”

He laughed. “He’s like that. You finished your hike?”

I smiled, nodding. “Yup!”

He grinned, inviting me in. “Now, I have really good news. I found you a trait!”

I beamed like a sun ray. “Really?!”

He laughed. “Of course! But you do need to take off your armour.”

I nodded, unlatching a bolt.

The suit completely failed to fall off. “Uh... It won’t come off.”

He paused. “Well, we might still be able to salvage this.”

I listened, still subconsciously fiddling with the suit. “Go on.”

Kapu took a deep breath. “Well, the trait I had thought of was toughness, but your armour won’t come off. You could just fuse your armour and yourself…”

Before my brain could start, my mouth opened. “That’s a great idea!”

He closed his eyes, and a blue aura converged on his fingertips. As they dwindled, I could feel myself change, growing in ways I had never experienced. I felt around my new body, stretching and twisting and curling.

“This feels weird but somehow... right. Thank you, Kapu!”

The godly being did his signature grin. “No problem.”

After the series of events, the tardigrade fell in with his fellow animals, finding his place in the world, and growing to the creature you (can’t) see today.