Silurian, Richard Bizley
The geyser hisses, its mists pattering into the warm pools. When it stops, the world is silent. The oceans of the Silurian churn with threshing ammonites, writhing crinoids, and scuttling trilobites. The seas are violent; if they weren’t, there would be no shells. But here, around these shallow ponds, life proceeds through stillness. Competition moves slowly, and in absolute silence. Nothing sings or buzzes or speaks. Life is noiseless—hymns are physical, not aural—reaching, branching, longing for light. This is the dynasty of plants when nature has no voices.