Today, we made our way across the cellulose plain to get to the patch of fructose, where we would reproduce. The branched appendage of the enormous cellular Mass to the south has again made contact with our plain and taken some of our group up to escape from the hordes of streptococci that dwell in great numbers on the surface of the Mass, from whom they will most likely never return. We had, at one point, planned to cross a great iron object, but the thing, though unthinkably massive, was merely a toy to the branches of the Mass, that took it away that we might pass. Even though the great blob of odd cells was titanic, it was too much so to be a threat itself. The true threat was becoming trapped in the environment that surrounded it. As I said before, legions of streptococci dwell in the damp and salty lands. On this land, if we do not die from the weather, we are killed by the defenders.
One way other bacteria enter the Mass is through a hole at its top that sucks in whatever is in the sky above us, and blows out the debris it had from within, showering into the sky escaped bacteria.