Ember clutched his clipboard of hand-processed paper, carefully noting the properties of yet another surviving wooden structure. “Pine,” he muttered, “approximately ninety-seven years old, minimal degradation despite exposure to—” His scientific observations were interrupted by screaming.

“THE NIGHT BANDIT APPROACHES! SHIELD YOUR VESSELS OF SUSTENANCE FROM ITS SACRED GRASP!”

Ember ducked behind the ancient pine tree as three figures in elaborate robes made from undissolved natural fibers rushed past him. Their hoods were adorned with what appeared to be… was that raccoon fur?

The warning cry came from Sister Juniper of the Third Dissolution, her ceremonial staff (certified raccoon-proof by the Council of Cleansing) raised high above her head. Behind her ran Brother Oak and Brother River, carrying protective offerings of berries and nuts – the traditional sacrifices to distract the Night Bandit from stealing more valuable foods.

What none of them knew was that at that exact moment, Dr. Midnight Christopher of the Rational Community of New Washington was also in pursuit of the same raccoon. She had a very different name for it: Subject R-seventeen, a remarkable specimen displaying advanced problem-solving capabilities and an unprecedented resistance to certain botanical toxins.

The raccoon – which saw itself as neither a divine messenger nor a research subject, but rather as a hungry raccoon who’d just found four excellent food sources – darted through the forest with practiced ease. It had just stolen a jar of preserved mushrooms from Sister Juniper’s temple storage, while its previous week’s activities included raiding Dr. Christopher’s carefully controlled experimental garden.

The two groups remained unaware of each other thanks to the dense forest that had grown up between their communities in the century since the Great Dissolution. This was the event that the Rational Community carefully documented as “The Clean Sweep Catastrophe of 2025,” when a revolutionary cleaning product marketed as CleanPro Ultimate had proven itself rather too ultimate. Within weeks, it had broken down most human-made materials into their base components, leaving only natural materials and a few mysteriously resistant synthetic items that the Rational Community now studied obsessively.

The same event was known to Sister Juniper’s people as the Divine Cleansing, when the Gods of Dissolution had purified the world of humanity’s corrupted creations. Their sacred texts (written on carefully prepared tree bark) told of how their ancestors had appeased these gods by renouncing artificial materials and learning to honor the Night Bandits – the sacred messengers who tested their worthiness by stealing their food.

The raccoon, caring little for either interpretation, scampered through a thick hedge and into a clearing. Sister Juniper burst through the vegetation from one side, while Dr. Christopher emerged from the other. Both women froze, staring at each other in shock.

“HALT!” Sister Juniper raised her staff defensively. “Are you… are you a manifestation of the Dissolving Ones?”

Dr. Christopher blinked repeatedly. “I’m sorry, what? No, I’m a scientist. I’m trying to catch that raccoon for my research on resistant organisms in post-catastrophe environments.”

Brother Oak whispered urgently to Sister Juniper, “She speaks in tongues! She must be possessed by the Spirit of Undoing!”

“I assure you I’m not possessed,” Dr. Christopher said, pulling out her notebook. “Though this is fascinating. Your clothing appears to be made entirely of natural fibers, hand-processed using – is that a mulberry bark technique?”

“The sacred vestments are not to be discussed with unbelievers!” Brother River declared, then paused. “Although… yes, it is mulberry. The preparation process takes three full moons and the blessing of at least two Night Bandits.”

“That’s not a blessing, that’s just raccoons stealing your materials while they dry,” Dr. Christopher muttered, but she wrote it down anyway.

The raccoon, meanwhile, had settled onto a nearby branch and was happily eating Sister Juniper’s preserved mushrooms while watching the humans with obvious amusement.

“THE NIGHT BANDIT FEASTS!” Sister Juniper fell to her knees. “We have been blessed this day!”

“That’s really just a normal raccoon,” Dr. Christopher tried to explain. “They’re opportunistic omnivores known for their adaptability and manual dexterity. Though I must admit, this one shows remarkable intelligence even for its species.”

“You dare reduce a Sacred Messenger to mere biology?” Brother Oak gasped.

“Actually,” Dr. Christopher said, an idea forming, “what I meant was… I’ve been studying its divine… uh, messaging capabilities. For instance, did you know that the Night Bandit shows its… sacred approval… by washing its food? It’s one of the few animals that does this.”

This caught Sister Juniper’s attention. “The Purifying Ritual of the Night Bandit! It is spoken of in our oldest texts!” She looked at Dr. Christopher with new respect. “Perhaps… perhaps you are a different kind of believer?”

“Sure,” Dr. Christopher said, thinking quickly. “I just believe in studying the… divine messages… through careful observation and documentation. For instance, I’ve noticed that the Night Bandit especially favors foods stored in these.” She pulled out one of her special reinforced containers, one of the few synthetic items that had survived the Great Dissolution.

Sister Juniper gasped. “A vessel of the Ancient Ones! We have only legends of such things!”

“I could share some with your community,” Dr. Christopher offered, seeing an opportunity for both scientific documentation and cultural exchange. “In return, I’d love to learn more about your… religious observations of the Night Bandit’s behaviors.”

The raccoon, having finished its mushrooms, chittered something that sounded suspiciously like laughter.

“The Night Bandit shows approval of this exchange!” Sister Juniper declared. “Though we must consult the High Dissolvers, of course. Would you join us for the Evening Ritual of Acceptance? We burn offerings of leaves and sticks to appease the Gods of Dissolution.”

“You mean you have a controlled combustion ceremony using local biomass?” Dr. Christopher’s eyes lit up. “I’d love to document that!”

As they walked together toward the Temple of Dissolution, the raccoon followed at a distance. It had long since learned that staying close to humans – whether they called it a divine messenger or a research subject – was a reliable way to get extra food. Besides, watching them interact was almost as entertaining as stealing their stuff.

Ember, still hidden behind his tree, finished his notes: “Addendum to Materials Survey 2125 – Apparent contact established with previously unknown community. Highly religious. Possible valuable insights into sustainable material usage, despite unusual theological interpretation. Also, note to self: reconsider classification of local raccoons as ‘minor nuisance species.'”

The raccoon, overhearing this last part, smiled to itself and began planning its next raid. After all, it had a divine reputation to maintain – and a research project to keep interesting.

Feature Photo by zoosnow