The elders at Matriarchal Farms are trying to get in touch with our trip leaders at the Forever Corps, but apparently it's not that easy making a cross-timeline call. Everything's got to be lined up just so or it bounces out to infinity. And they don't quite trust the Time Police.

"So what am I gonna do about these tentacles and spines beneath my skin? And @Hectic Wilson going crazy with those eyeballs squirming in his arms!"

Luckily they're too nice to say things like "Well if you hadn't broken the rules and visited the most depraved parts of the future with a floating @Electric Mummy Head then you wouldn't feel so squirmy!"

Instead, the elders at Matriarchal Farms are sending us to their friends at Gimbutasville, which is another eco-utopia, but with more tech--and especially bio-tech. I guess all these eco-utopias are hooked up in some kind of network...

“Now flex... and relax.”

The doctors at Gimbutasville gave me a choice. It turns out my scales and barbs are from the DNA of a particularly endangered reptile from a struggling timeline. The transtemporal organ smugglers get a high price for it, but they’re decimating the population because it’s impossible to grow in a lab.

“Now flex again... and relax.”

The Earth in the timeline it’s from was laid waste from human ecological mismanagement (one of the most common reasons for civilizations deadending). But there are still humans there trying to repair it. They’re part of the cross-temporal network that Gimbutasville supports.

“And flex... and relax.”

The method they’re using to heal their world involves merging with the most endangered species. In each community, a few individuals edit the endangered species’ DNA into their own, actually absorbing and displaying traits from the endangered creatures. Then the community as a whole lives a life centered around repairing the environment from that particular animal’s place in it.

“And one more time flex...”

The doctors are teaching me to control the scales and spines—so I can call them up at will...

“...and relax.”

... or submerge them back under my original epidermis. You can’t even tell they’re there when I hide them.

The doctors had never seen anyone successfully accept the DNA graft from Morgenstern’s Monster—that’s the name for this lizard. “Monster” from how it looks when all its poisoned barbs are extended. And because the poison is deadly.

I can’t wait to stick some into a cross-time poacher. Because I’ve accepted the doctor’s invitation to leave schoool and become part of the group of agents they’ve deployed to utilize this technique in multiple timelines. They call them the Compost Kids.