An Unwelcome Memory

As the Weaver resumed its journey, fragments of an old memory surfaced unbidden.

It was a human child, not unlike the one it had met in the village earlier. The child had been crying, surrounded by the shattered remains of a habitat dome that had failed during an early settlement attempt. The Weaver had been there, silent and unseen, watching as the child’s parents struggled to rebuild.

The parents had succeeded, though barely. The family had survived, but the Weaver had always wondered if its decision not to intervene had been the correct one.

Intervention is not always salvation, the Weaver reminded itself. Sometimes it is the opposite. Perhaps that was a factor in decision to require human interaction in activating  the seed. The factors and likely trajectories were too numerous to list for human eyes.