Pinching a small snake by the neck between the index finger and the thumb of his left hand, Tlön climbed down a tall tree. “Look,” he showed the wriggling snake to one of his mates, “this is believed to be one of the most poisonous creatures on this planet.” His mate nodded: “I remember seeing an image of it somewhere or other.” “We’ll take it with us,” Tlön said pointing upwards. “It’s full of eggs, and some will surely hatch.” His mate nodded again: “I’d bet the chemistry of its poison could tell us a great deal.” The snake kept wriggling, but it was clear it was on its hind legs. “Hurry up,” said Tlön, “I’m afraid we’ll lose it or its brood if we dally around here for too long.” The snake was rather limp by the time they reached their camp, but it was still alive. Thick, yellowish liquid started coming out of its mouth. “That’s the poison,” whispered Tlön and fetched a tiny container to collect it. “We must freeze it as soon as possible.” As another among his mates rushed toward their craft with the container, Tlön looked around for the closest toolbox: “We must save the eggs before it’s too late…”