Category: short stories

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Money Is Just Something in Your Blood

By Nicholas Driscoll

This is a short story I wrote for my reading class years ago. My idea was to ask students to choose several details–a character name, a job, the character’s main goal, and a setting. They chose a really generic name, a job of a computer programmer or technician, a goal to get money, and a setting of thousands of years in the past. I had a lot of fun coming up with the following story, which I have sense edited several times for clarity and smoothness, and changed a few minor details.

Art by Samuelebs from Fiverr.

“Are you planning to go outside today, sir?”

TART, my safety-monitor robo-drone, was pulling open the curtains to let the sunshine into the room. The light hit my eyes, and I hissed petulantly at him like a dyspeptic vampire.

“Close those blinds!” I said. “Today is the day, and I don’t want any prying peepers peering in and catching a glimpse of my latest machinations!”

“You need sunshine, sir,” said TART.

“I don’t need a tan,” I snapped. “And sunshine causes cancer. I don’t need that, either.”

“I you develop cancer, we can grow you new organs or construct a fresh body,” said TART. “There are more pressing concerns in your case. Such as the fact you haven’t talked face-to-face with another human being for three months.”

Given that I was in the middle of adjusting some very delicate circuits that could make or break my plans for my future (or perhaps more precisely, my past), I was not in the mood to receive social advice from a floating electronic fussbudget.

“I don’t need to talk to people face-to-face,” I said. “I can look at pictures of faces online, and I can babble at disembodied voices while resting my rump at home. I don’t need to couple those things with real-time body odor and bad breath. Besides, if I went outside, I would have to put on pants. And regrowing organs because of cancer costs money! Now be quiet! This is important!”

TART became quiet, but I could feel the sunlight warming my shoulder. The fool robot. I stood up stiffly and stomped over to the window, snatched the edges of the curtains, and pulled them roughly together. I glared at TART.

“The pedestrians outside do NOT want to see me in my underwear,” I said. “I do NOT want them to see me in my underwear either. And more importantly… my adjustments on the Time Screen are complete. Today is the day! The day my fortunes change—quite literally!”

I adjusted a few more settings, then input the year that I wanted to see—10,000 BC. Perfect.

“I am aware of your plans,” said TART. “And despite the fact that you reprogrammed me so that I would not alert the authorities as to your illegal activities, I still retain the basic protocols that require me to issue warnings to you when you are about to partake in inadvisable activities. And what you are about to do counts as a felony. It is theft from your country. If you are caught, you could spend up to twenty years in prison. Longer if you change history—”

“Silence!” I said. “Just shut your wobbly little robot mouth. You aren’t going to tattle. I’m certainly not going to tattle. So who is going to tell the authorities? Nobody! And the only history we are going to change is the history of my pocketbook. Here we go!”

I hit the switch, and the Time Screen® bubble turned on. The Time Screen® was originally invented as a way to observe past events (such as crimes) and capture criminals, and it worked really well in that role—just set up the screen at the scene of the crime, turn it on, input the approximate time the crime took place, and voila! You got your criminal in glorious color and stereophonic sound, committing the crime in the spherical view-screen! However, since the machine’s invention as a crime-solving tool, it had become a fantastic means for historians to study history as well. After all, it was a way to catch a glimpse of historical events as they really happened. As long as the exact location could be ascertained, and a Time Screen® bubble opened right on the spot, ye olde school activities of yesteryear could be spied upon by eager bookworms with no current-day life and a passion for all things dusty and boring.

A Time Screen® bubble, in this case, is a bubble made out of what I like to call flex time soup. It turns out time is really a liquid, and if you inject the liquid with some quantum soup, you can create a wiggly bubble in the middle of a room for all your time-travel entertainment needs.

I got one of these Time Screens® for myself—bought it legally second-hand. What’s more, I managed to procure some of that quantum soup so I could inject it and create the bubbles. And finally, I possessed the know-how necessary not only to view past events through the squiggly bubble, but actually step inside and visit the past myself.

Which is a truly effective way to make money. Illegal, but effective.

On this particular day, I had set the Time Screen® to 10,000 BC because I hoped to find some primitive and stupid humans there, before recorded history (this is very important). Then, once I had found those primitive and stupid humans, I was planning to collect some of their DNA, return to my own time, and register said DNA with the Universal Basic Income System. You see, everyone gets a set number of dollars every month, a living wage just for living, and that set amount of money is only 75,000 dollars a year. Since an ice cream cone costs 500 dollars these days, you can run through 75,000 dollars pretty fast. But if I register a whole bunch of separate sets of human DNA into the system, and have their monthly Basic Income sent to my bank, I will be rich without having to do any actual work each month beyond processing the incoming bucks. People from the past don’t use money anyway, so I am not stealing anything valuable from the donors, and no one will ever track the primitive schmucks—they all died a bazillion years ago, so who cares? Nobody can check the DNA history of these folks because they started pushing up daisies before history was ever recorded. Perfect.

Collecting the DNA would not be a problem, as I had special DNA collecting gloves I put together just for the task. My gloves can prick the hands of the subjects with a simple handshake via a carefully concealed needle. Then once that is accomplished in the distant past, the plan was to run away gleefully to my own time and watch the money pour into my coffers. And if someone is going to shake your hand, that is a pretty-much universal symbol of “let’s go into business together.” They are basically agreeing to get fleeced, at least in my view, so I figure it’s morally sound to take the money off these rubes. It’s fool-proof—and I am no fool, so it’s double-seamless.

Unfortunately, looking through the bubble in my present time, I didn’t see any primitive and stupid humans. All I could see was a sort of open field with tall grass.

“Where are all the people?” I said. “We are in the middle of a city! There should be primitive and stupid people everywhere!”

“John Doe,” said TART. “In our current time, you are in a city. In 10,000 BC, there are no cities like this one.”

I pulled on my DNA-collecting gloves, and gave TART a glare. He stared back with his robo-cute eyebrows raised in a sarcastic angle.

“I thought New New York had a long history,” I said.

“I think we have found a primitive and stupid person,” said TART. “And his name is John Doe. The whole reason you chose 10,000 BC was because that time is prehistory, and prehistory does not have cities. Fool.”

I frowned. Perhaps there was some flaw in my plans after all.

“I will find some stupid humans in 10,000 B.C.,” I said. “The plan will absolutely work. It’s fool-proof.”

I was determined to make my fool-proof plan pan out. I injected more quantum soup into the Time Screen® and adjusted the calendar by a few months forward, then opened the bubble anew. Once again, I saw open grasslands with no inhabitants of any level of intelligence. I adjusted the time again, five months. Ten months. Twenty months. Two years. Each time, I just kept getting those grasslands. I saw some birds and heard some noisy insects. But I wasn’t finding any stupid people to steal money from.

“No stupid people,” said TART. “But look at all that grass. You could collect some grass and make some baskets or grass skirts. You could sell them for a lot of money. Maybe 1000 dollars each.”

That would only be worth two ice cream cones per sale, I thought. I would have to be a basket case to weave baskets and sell them for such chump change.

Forget that.

“I’m going in,” I said, putting on my time helmet.

“You’re what?” said TART. “Are you actually going to collect grass and weave baskets?”

“No!” I cried. “I’m going to find some stupid people and harvest their DNA! I can’t keep using up all my quantum soup looking at an unkempt lawn! Maybe there are stupid people hanging out in the other time, but they are just off screen. Maybe they are crouching in the grass, farting the day away.”

“It is a very bad idea to walk into the ancient past,” TART blurted. “Anything you change in the past will have repercussions on the future. Even minor changes could create unexpected and troublesome effects on history. You are aware of the butterfly effect?”

“Yeah, whack a flappy insect yesterday, it’s apocalyptic chihuahuas tomorrow, I get it,” I said. “But it won’t be that bad because I will make sure not to stomp on any winged insects. I’ll be fine.”

I filled my lungs with quantum soup. I would need to breathe that stuff while I was in the past—it was the only way for me to travel through time. To return to my own time, I would have to flush my lungs, which I understood was a pretty easy process.

I took a deep breath, letting the quantum soup fill my chest. It felt like an army of tingly fleas bounding and bouncing all over the inside of my ribcage.

It was the feeling of tens of thousands of dollars disappearing from my bank account, given the cost of quantum soup. I gritted my teeth.

“Here I go, wish me luck,” I said, and stepped through the bubble into the past.

“Bad luck,” grunted TART, which was the last thing I heard in the present.

The tingly feeling in my chest continued as I walked into the long, swaying grass and itchy weeds. Being from the future, so I don’t know what kind of plants they were—don’t expect a botany lesson. They were overgrown. And hard to walk through. Every time I crushed some yicky plant down in front of me, fronds and leaves slapped my arms, whipped my neck, walloped my face. I was instantly one big rash and felt annoyed at basically everything.

Presumably it is for reasons like these that the oldest known photographs of human beings show everyone frowning and looking as if their brother just died. It’s because all day long they had to walk through obnoxious weeds that slapped them in the face and stuff.

I had it even worse than those moaning losers, though. TART was talking the whole time.

“I will warn you of all changes to history you are making as you crush plants from the past,” TART said. “I am tracking historical discrepancies as you move. So far I have calculated ten discrepancies.”

“How can there be discrepancies just from me walking through some grass?” I exploded.

“The answer to that question is beyond my ability to explain,” said TART. “I have incomplete data. However, according to my historical discrepancy scans, some of the text on several Egyptian carvings has changed. Abraham Lincoln cut his sideburns and instead wore a droopy mustache. H. G. Wells wrote a sequel to The Invisible Man called Hey, Where Are My Shorts? The song Yesterday by the Beatles is now five seconds longer. And…”

“Don’t tell me all this stuff,” I said. “I have to concentrate. And I don’t think my stepping on a leaf or a bug made Yesterday five seconds longer.”

“Nevertheless, Yesterday is five seconds longer as a result of your actions,” TART said. “Oh, interesting. A new kind of music was started in the late 1970s—a genre in which the main instruments consisted of the kazoo and a gong played by bashing the face to a rhythmic beat. It became very popular amongst the rebellious youth of the time, and even spawned a series of kitschy musicals starring Robin Williams and an orangutan.”

“As far as I am concerned, that makes the world a better place,” I said, and then halted. “What was that? Did you hear something?”

 Movement through the grass up ahead. I could see the plants wave from the passing of some great creature, and heard something snap. The grass stopped moving momentarily.

“Maybe that is a stupid person, stalking towards us,” I whispered.

The grass shifted. Whatever it was, it was coming towards me.

“That is not human,” said TART. “My sensors indicate…”

And then I saw it. Like a mountain lion, but much bigger, and with huge teeth, eyes glittering hungrily in the harsh afternoon light.

It was a saber-tooth tiger. And now that it saw me, it started charging.

I screamed like a little girl (or a little boy really) and I think my hands flapped like a chicken.

“Hold your breath!”

“What?” I yelped.

“Hold your breath, and the quantum soup in your lungs will dissipate!” blared TART.

Almost without thinking, out of sheer panic, I clamped a hand over my nose and held my breath. Then the tiger was on me. I tried to fend it off with my free hand, and I slapped it in the face as I felt its claws come down on my chest, forcing everything out of my lungs. I saw stars spinning around the horrible beast’s face. I wanted to let out a wail, but I had no air to vocalize. I kicked and wobbled and warbled and punched the air and…

I was back in my house, rolling around on the floor, kicking at nothing.

“Waaaaagh! Yaaaaaagh! Bleeaaaaaagh! Oh, I’m ok.”

“You were lucky,” said TART, floating near my head. “The tiger pushed all of the quantum soup out of your chest. If she hadn’t done that, you would likely be that tiger’s dinner right now.”

“Lucky?!” I said. “How is this lucky? How is any of this lucky?”

I stood up, brushing myself off, breathing heavily, still full of adrenaline. My clothes were torn in places (I was wearing a shirt at this point with my time helmet, even if I was still not wearing any pants), and my skin was red from crashing down into the weeds. Plus scratches on my pectorals.

One of my nipples was stinging.

“Look at me!” I said. “This wasn’t supposed to happen!”

“Take a look at the Time Screen®,” said TART. “I think you found some people.”

I looked up, and sure enough, there was a group of about five primitive and stupid people from thousands of years ago. They were so primitive that they had some ridiculous spears or clubs—no machine guns or laser whips in their time, I guess. I had to laugh. Each of the five dumb-dumbs was wearing animal skins (probably not the fake kind), but they were otherwise mostly naked. I guess in that way they were similar to me and my sartorial preferences. One of them was a woman, and she had matted hair and a searching expression. I thought she looked especially stupid.

“It seems they have responded to your cries,” said TART. “They came to save you. And because of their change of actions, they are causing a huge cascade of further discrepancies throughout history. It is impossible to keep track of all the changes. New births. New books. New memes.”

“I am going back in,” I said. “I need to shake their hands.”

“It’s good of you to want to thank them,” said TART. “But it is still dangerous. You would be well-advised to wait.”

“I don’t want to thank them!” I said. “I want their DNA! Money, TART! It’s all about the money!”

As I was saying that, I heard the primitive and stupid people cry out. I looked back at the Time Screen®. To my horror, I saw that the saber-tooth tiger had returned. The enormous beast pounced out from the grass, claws swiping, mouth wide. The stupid people waved their weapons and tried to fight back, but then in the next moment the beast was on top of the woman, and then the others were gone, disappearing into the grass, with the woman carried away in the jaws of the monster cat.

I stared dumbly at the screen while TART continued to talk on and on and on about the many changes to earth history that were spiraling out from this one incident. But I couldn’t think clearly. I was just so shocked.

“I was hoping to get her DNA,” I said finally. “So I could get her basic income.”

TART swiveled towards me.

“You are a disgusting human being,” the petulant robot said.

“Disgusting?!” I said, still staring at the screen. “Disgusting? But it’s such a waste. All that money, gone.”

“Please decommission me,” said TART. “I do not want to operate under your service any longer.”

“Shut up,” I said. “We’re done for today.”

I turned off the Time Screen® and staggered into my bedroom and slammed the door.

I couldn’t get that woman out of my head. I tried. Really, I tried. Over and over again I did. I listened to music. Watched sexy videos. Ate a mountain of snacks. Exercised! I actually exercised! But over and over again I saw that woman and her serious, concerned expression as she searched for the mook who had screamed. Over and over again I saw the grass part, heard the shouts of the other primitive and stupid people, saw the jaws of the monster opening wide.

And then she was gone, pulled into the underbrush.

I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t focus on my work. I couldn’t live with myself.

As I lay on my belly on my bed, staring at the wall, sleepless and upset, I murmured to the air around me.

“I have to get that money from them.”

So it was not many days later that I returned to the Time Screen®, this round with a bit more preparation. It was easy to set the machine to go back to the time in which the attack occurred. I put on a full suit for my trip, a sort of makeshift combat outfit made from the thickest material I could find (a combat vest, heavy boots, a hard helmet, and other things I could order on the Internet and have delivered in a matter of hours, but with a good returns policy so I could send them back after I was finished). I also downloaded an animal stun app on my WowPhone, which is supposed to be used to deal with domesticated bear attacks. The app was called Bear With Me. I wasn’t sure if it actually worked, but I wasn’t about to try it out on myself, nor hunt down an actual bear to test.

I briefly considered using it on TART but didn’t want to deal with fried circuit stink. That’s just nasty.

Anyway, I headed back into the Time Screen®, this time minus yapping robot. I crouched down in the brush and waited.

Soon, I saw myself stumbling around in my underwear through the grass, then the tiger leaping on top of me, then my body disappearing underneath the beast. It was really surreal, but I was gratified to see that I looked good in my boxers, even thousands of years in the past.

My intention was to jump in and save myself from the tiger by shocking the tiger with the Bear With Me app, and then, when the primitive and stupid natives came, I would shake hands with each of them and get their DNA. Thus, I charged towards the monstrous predator and activated the app.

Nothing happened. I looked down at my phone. The app had not finished downloading, and there was no Wi-Fi in 10,000 BC. My other self, who had been screaming up until now, disappeared, and the tiger was looking at me now. I dashed back towards the edge of the time bubble and stuck my arm through into my house to let my phone finish downloading the app. That feeling, in which most of me was in the past and my arm was in the present, made me feel incredibly old for some reason.

And scared. I was really, really scared. The tiger was stalking present me now, because past me had already disappeared. Some part of me realized I should just go back into my home, but I was so terrified that I couldn’t move. I tried to hold my breath, but my heart was beating so fast I almost threw up instead.

Then the primitive and stupid people arrived. I just stood there staring as the stupid and primitive men (and the one warrior woman) proceeded to descend upon the snarling and dangerous beast that had almost eaten me alive, and they stabbed and jabbed and swung their weapons and generally were not at all paralyzed with fear.

Unlike me. I could honestly say I was much smarter than all of them put together, though. I am sure none of them knew how to operate a computer, let alone engineer a motherboard.

Still, that was a pretty impressive dodge that guy with the big club did. The tiger had leapt at one of the men, and he kind of somersaulted out of the way with a war-whoop. And the woman with her matted hair and searing eyes really walloped that tiger a good one in the schnozz. After a bit more posturing and screaming from the unintelligent cohort of people from the past, the great predatory beast turned tail and dashed away into the waving grasses.

The primitive and stupid dudes and dudettes that had just saved my life cheered and roared about their victory, thrusting their fists into the air and frankly making grand fools of themselves. Meanwhile, I wasn’t jumping up and down and hooting and hollering. I still couldn’t move a muscle.

The group then turned their attentions to me, with openly curious expressions plastered across their hideous and unwashed mugs. They approached, and as they did so, I was overcome by a wave of body odor, and I remembered I could move my own body (which probably also now stunk of panic sweat). I also remembered that I had some DNA to harvest.

They grunted something like words at me, and I looked at TART, who had somehow followed me after all despite my attempts to keep him away this time.

At least he wasn’t scolding me.

“Don’t look at me,” he said. “These are a prehistoric people. Their language hasn’t been recorded yet. By the way, good job saving her life. Her death had caused massive repercussions throughout history which are only now beginning to repair. Literally millions of people had disappeared, inventions vanished, the recipe for McDonald’s fries became worse. That sort of thing.”

I turned back to the natives.

“Hello,” I said. “I just saved your lives!”

I reached out my hand towards the closest male, a bulky man with a broad nose and bristly hair covering something like 90% of his unwashed body. No deodorant either, and he really needed it.

But he didn’t shake my hand. Instead, he looked down at my outstretched palm suspiciously, then cocked his head at me and jabbered something.

“Why isn’t he shaking my hand?” I whispered out of the side of my mouth.

“Why would he?” said TART. “This culture clearly does not shake hands. It isn’t part of their tradition. He obviously doesn’t know why you stuck your hand out at him. The people from this time have not yet been researched. Sticking out your hand could be an act of aggression for all we know.”

I hastily pulled my hand back. The four men in the group (one of them was openly scratching his crotch as they approached me) still had their (admittedly primitive and pretty pathetic) weapons of death. I suddenly realized this whole encounter could go south in an instant and, even though I had just saved the life of this ugly and stupid woman, they might reward me with my own ignominious death.

And I really didn’t want to die.

“Ha, hey, nice knowing you guys,” I said, starting to back up. “You’re welcome for me saving your woman for you. The cat with the dental problems is gone, so I guess that’s that.”

One of the men (this one bald and with horrible acne scars on his cheeks—nasty! Just spend the dough and regrow a cheek or two!) grabbed my arm and stuck his face uncomfortably close to mine, eyes narrowed, lips kind of puckered like a duck’s beak. I mechanically lifted my own hand and patted the very unattractive male on the shoulder in a vain attempt to be friendly.

My glove pricked his shoulder, and he shouted and jumped back, glaring at me.

“Whoops!” I bleated. “That was a mistake! Sorry!”

Inside, part of me was all like, “Yes! Money!”

The men were pointing their weapons at me now, surrounding me so I couldn’t make a run for the edge of the bubble. One of them was swinging his poorly-made bone axe up and down slowly. I would be embarrassed to be killed by something so primitive. What a way to go.

“On the bright side,” said TART. “If you die, your death will not alter history too much once the quantum soup in your lungs dissipates. Your body will just disappear as if it had never been in this world, and since you would be dead, the police could not punish you back in the present time.”

“You’re really not making me feel any better, TART,” I said.

The woman made a gruff grunt-cluck. She stepped out in front of the very unattractive males, her mostly naked backside towards me. Part of me realized that she had a rather shapely mostly naked backside.

“She seems to be reasoning with them,” said TART. “I think she has found more value in your life than I do.”

“Thanks a lot,” I said.

“Thank her, not me,” said TART. “Look. They are lowering their weapons.”

TART was right. The incredibly smelly quartet of grotesque gorillas were lowering their weapons. The woman then turned to me, and she smiled. She clearly had not brushed her teeth that morning. I couldn’t quite make myself smile back at her. She reached forward and grabbed me in a very uncomfortable place.

I was very surprised, and I think I let out a squeak. I mean, that kind of behavior would have gotten her thrown in jail in my own time. Here it was apparently only worth a few scattered grunting chuckles. Such animals!

“She is evaluating you as a mate,” TART said. “She seems to have a lot of authority in this group. However, please do not mate with her, John. That would cause incredible havoc in the timeline.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” I said. “Ouch!”

She had really squeezed! I was standing, barely, working the kinks out of my neck, but she was smiling and nodding and talking excitedly with the others.

“Just leave,” said TART. “They are not surrounding you any longer.”

TART was right. As the hopelessly unattractive man-apes were talking with each other, I turned to step back through the Time Screen® into my time. The woman turned towards me. She touched me lightly on my shoulder. I realized I could grab her hand, steal her DNA, take another monthly money check from the government.

She looked so sad suddenly. I think she knew I was leaving.

I stepped through the Time Screen®, and I was gone. I could still see them, though, from my vantage point outside of the device. They were going crazy, freaking out, shrieking and bellowing something fierce.

I fell backwards into my chair, checking to make sure my jaw was still in place—and I ended up pricking myself. I watched the primitives and their crazed confusion for a while. I especially watched the woman. She seemed the most distraught. Well, it was only because they were all so stupid anyway. They couldn’t understand a thing about computers and time travel and DNA. I snorted and turned off the screen.

“Why didn’t you steal her DNA?” asked TART. “You had many opportunities to do so.”

I scoffed.

“I would have had to touch her with my hand,” I said. “And she was repulsive. I couldn’t make myself do it.”

I took off my gloves and sighed. I would never see her again.

“You did the right thing,” said TART.

“Well!” I shouted. “At least I got one set of DNA! I can get one extra basic income each month! It’s not a total loss!”

I set up the program after filtering out my DNA and told it to send the remaining set to the Universal Basic Income database and start collecting cash as soon as possible. The adventure had been a really terrible one overall, but at least I was going to get some cash out of it. I definitely was never going to try to use the Time Screen® to collect more DNA again, though… I had had enough.

In the following week, as the government processed the DNA I had sent in and I waited for the results, sometimes, in my spare time, I checked my Time Screen®. Each occasion I looked through the screen, I saw grass, never-ending grass. That was all I could see, and nothing more.

“She remembered you,” said TART, catching me looking at the Time Screen®.

“What?” I said. “I mean, what are you talking about? Who?”

“The woman you rescued, and who rescued you,” TART explained.

“How could you ever know something like that?” I said. “She was just a horrible, uncouth, nasty woman. I don’t care.”

“A cave painting was found, of a strange man wearing clothes like yours, hand reaching out. She painted herself reaching towards you as well. It seems she was more interested in your DNA than you were in hers.”

“What?” I said. “Show me.”

“I thought you said you didn’t care,” TART said.

“Just show me!” I barked. “You stupid junk bucket, you have to obey me even when I am being illogical!”

There was a sudden knock on the door, and much to my chagrin I had to answer it. Police. The first thing they did was ask me to put on some pants.

I did.

“John Doe?” they asked.

“Yes, I am John Doe, just like every man in the nation,” I said. “You’re John Doe, too, right?”

“Well, yes,” said the police. “But you are John Doe number 59230-323119289-53432, yes?”

“Yes.”

“You’re under arrest,” said the policeman. “Your rights are being downloaded into your brain so that you are aware of all your options. Come with us.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” I said. “What am I being arrested for?”

“Money fraud,” said the police. “You tried to cheat the government.”

“What?” I said. “There is nothing wrong with registering the DNA of a friend for their basic income and taking it for them! I had the permissions and everything!”

“You sent in DNA from some kind of a cat,” said the policeman. “Cats can’t legally receive universal basic income. That is fraud.”

“I’m not stupid enough to send in cat DNA!” I snapped.

“Please come with us,” said the police.

And then I remembered. When that saber-tooth tiger had attacked me, I had slapped it with my glove. I must have collected its DNA when fighting the creature, and then without even checking I sent its info in with automatically self-written permission forms asking for the delivery of the universal basic income for the feline. I gaped. TART was laughing.

But as I was walked out to the waiting police teleporter, TART showed me the image of that painting. And he was right. Though the painting was primitive and ugly, I could tell it was me from the shell-shocked expression on the face, and from the fact that she had painted the moment when she had touched my shoulder. I knew that expression she had given me.

It was a really ugly face, but somehow it was also beautiful. Like a crisp ten thousand dollar bill.

And somehow, even though I was going to jail, even though I might never see her again, I smiled like an idiot.

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A Celestial Body/星の体–an illustrated short story/紙芝居

It is Easter. I like writing stories. I wanted to share a story which I wrote for a chapel speech I gave earlier this year. I also drew the illustrations. I have been a Christian all my life, though these days I really have a hard time embracing the teachings and it’s hard for me to say with certainty what is true. However, I keep hoping that there is a loving God out there, and this story is kind of an expression of that hope. I really wanted to write a Christian-inspired science-fiction story, and predictably took some inspiration from from C. S. Lewis’ sci-fi trilogy with the following. The title is a pun playing off of the dual meanings of “body”–and the Japanese title is also a pun, though it works differently… It’s “Hoshi no Karada,” which means “Star Body”–but the word for “desirable” or “to want” is “Hoshii,” and so I was wanting to kind of implicate that meaning in my story, too. A Desired Body. Happy reading–and Happy Easter!

The Japanese version follows the English. Japanese translation provided by Yukakology from Fiverr, with additional edits from my Japanese tutor hero and my coworker Yukiko. All artwork was done by me on paper with pencil, then scanned. Apologies–it’s not great art!

The ATOM pods turned in the gravity pull, detecting the nearby planet and its riches before we could come out of the long sleep. I felt adrenaline as I awoke, knowing that something good had brought me to life. Even just looking out of the sensor window, I could see that the world below us was beautiful, full of treasure we could take for ourselves.

“It’s a good one, I can see even from here,” came Evelyn’s voice over the interphone. “This planet will be our biggest profit yet.”

“Let’s take it, then,” I said. “We’ve been floating for six days. Finally we have something to wake up for, huh?”

We turned our pods toward the planet, and we fell from the sky. Our pods, egg shaped, burned lines of fire through the atmosphere, but the shells protected us as we streaked towards land. We skimmed over the water, the stretching oceans, the shimmering flames of the nearest star glittering above us as we searched for a lifeform we could use to adapt into and begin to take everything for ourselves.

“Remember,” I said. “The lifeform we choose has to be big enough that we can get a good DNA sample. We need to be able to take the organic matter into our biosuits in enough volume or else the mutation will be incomplete. We want to make sure everything goes smoothly so we can really enjoy ourselves.”

“Yeah, I got it,” said Evelyn. “Plenty of life here to choose from, too.”

And there was. Strange bird-like creatures fluttering and singing through the air. Long pin-legged insect-like things dashing across the surface of the lakes. Billions of tendrils poking out of the hills and reaching for the sun. But we needed something big, and these lifeforms—we could take their lives later, but we needed something large for our adaption engines to really work.

“How about that tree?” Evelyn said. “Over there. Biggest tree I ever saw. Lush. Powerful. We can take it, and it will transform us, make us suitable for this world.”

I turned my ATOM pod in the sky, triggered the shade mechanism in my viewing port so that the streaming sunrays wouldn’t dazzle me, and took in the organism before me.

It was like a tree, certainly. Hundreds of feet tall, with gargantuan limbs splayed out, welcoming us in. The outer material—the skin or bark of the thing—was an intricate play of dark and light, whites and blacks, and splotches of gray. Instead of leaves, the thing had bubbly orbs of glittering green that seemed to suck the energy from the atmosphere and beam out heat themselves. But most beautiful of all were the fruit. Massive hanging bulbous fruit, juicy and inviting, thick with organic material that would be perfect for our adaptation engines.

I sucked in air across my newly-grown teeth.

“It’s against the rules to use the trees,” I said, though I liked what I saw. “Sometimes the trees don’t make for good adaptations, you know. It might not…”

“It’s fine,” Evelyn said. “We aren’t going to find anything nicer than this. Those old guidelines about trees are outdated anyway—our new adaptation engines have been updated and can handle the transference even from plant life.”

She didn’t wait for me to respond. Already her ATOM pod was diving. It plunged into one of the enormous red fruit, larger even that her own space-traversing machine. Immediately the pod began to transform, merge with the fruit, and gorge itself on the available organic material.

“It’s amazing, Guy,” Evelyn said. “The fruit, this tree—it will provide everything we need to adapt for this world, so we can take anything we want. The power—it’s astonishing!”

Any time we wanted to use a world and make it ours, we first had to merge with organic material in that world so that our bodies could live there. If we just tried to exit our pods in our newgrown bodies, we would be too vulnerable, weak and fresh in a possibly dangerous environment. The rules, though… they said we should adapt using an animal—flesh and blood, not the tree.

“It’s good, Guy!” Evelyn cried through the interphone. “It’s so good! You need this!”

I couldn’t bear to stay away, hearing Evelyn’s excited voice. My ATOM pod seared down from the sky almost beyond my control, and I bonded with a second fruit, the pod hitting it with a loud, wet pop. Soon the skin of my pod was pulling in organic material—I could hear the juices gurgling around me, assimilating, pulling through the membrane of my cosmic machine.

And I did feel it. The power. The knowledge of this world that would sustain us, the DNA and the pieces of this gorgeous world that were becoming a part of me.

Yes. With this power, we would become the creatures we needed to be to live in this environment, and absorb the truth, the facts of how to adapt through the elegance of the DNA of this amazing lifeform that obviously was thriving here. I felt my body infused with everything we needed to rule and conquer this world.

Within a few hours, our bodies had been converted to something greater than we could ever have imagined, and we emerged from the cosmic membranes of our pods. My body was larger, muscular, my eyes sharper, my mind dancing with the information of a million lives, and I knew how I could make this world my own.

I fell dozens of feet to the floor of the world, and the tendril-like plants whispered away from my gripping feet. I roared and shook my fists at the sky, and I heard Evelyn cry out her own victory not far away. We dashed through the undergrowth to each other, each step cementing the use and the power of our bodies, making us more confident in our new skins.

We crashed into each other, and I lifted her above my head, and our eyes flashed as we looked on each other in naked triumph.

“We are masters of this world,” Evelyn said. “We will take everything we need.”

“Yes, but less us prepare ourselves fully,” I said, and reached to pull off strips of black bark from the tree. “We need to protect our new skin as it hardens for this world.”

The black bark oozed and shifted onto our bodies after we applied the clothing chemicals that shifted the structures of the molecules and created living vestments we could use to cover ourselves. Soon we were running, laughing, taking anything we wanted from our new world.

Nothing could stand against us. The creatures of our new home, for all their variety and beauty, could not overcome our space weaponry, nor our perfect new bodies and the power within us. Again and again, everything we found, anything we wanted, we took, the treasures, the fruits, all things of value bowed before us and went into our collection modules, crunched down to microscopic size via the portable black holes housed inside.

“This world is the richest one found yet in the history of our race!” cried Evelyn. “Look at the minerals, the rich biodiversity, the metals housed in the hills, the quality of the oceans and all that we can yet learn!”

I laughed, and I leapt dozens of feet in the air, pouncing over the shrubbery, crushing everything underfoot, sucking all that I wanted into my portable black hole.

But as the days passed, I realized something was wrong. I woke up with the knowledge that something had broken inside of myself, and I felt a streak of fear stab through my mind. I stood from the bed of pulverized downy cotton matter that had made my bed, and something gave in my leg.

I looked down, and my skin had cracked. The black leathery bark clothing was starting to split. I desperately tried to run, and found my legs seemed to splinter beneath me.

“Evelyn!” I yelled. “What is happening?”

She emerged from behind the cover of overlapping enormous leaves, but I knew from one glance that the flaw was in her, too. The power that I had seen that first day in her new body had halved and broken. Something creaked in her bones as she turned to look at me.

“Death is in this organic stuff we have taken in,” she said. “Did it not fully adapt us? Did the technology fail?”

I grabbed her arms, feeling the pain jag through my fingers as I held her.

“You did this!” I said. “The guidelines warned against using the trees when making the adaptations! Why wouldn’t you listen to me?”

“If you are so wise, then why did you follow and use the fruit for your own adaptation?” Evelyn retorted. “You are no wiser than I!”

“Do you both find yourselves so full of excuses?” came a voice then. “Listen to yourselves, and see how you have led yourselves to destruction.”

Someone was stepping through the flora nearby. The footsteps were like thunder. Yet there was a gentleness in the voice that reverberated through our hearts.

It was the Man. Larger than either of us. Perfectly adapted for this world. Somehow I knew right away we were supposed to adapt through this organism, and not through just any tree or thing we could find in our rush to take and make everything our own.

The Man stepped closer, taking us by the hand, leading us through the underbrush. We walked with him, tears in our eyes, our bodies failing, cracking, falling apart. Even just a few steps and I could hardly breathe, could not keep up with his quickening steps.

“I will carry you, but you must let go of your burdens,” said the Man. “There isn’t time nor space for you to carry all the things you have stolen. Let go of them, and I will carry you.”

What could we do? I did not want to drop the packages, the fruit of our labors, but my knuckles burned with pain as my body continued to shiver and crack. The black hole module fell from my grasp and into the swirling undergrowth.

“Faster, we need to go faster,” said the Man, and his glistening muscles pulled us along, and we saw the tree again from whence we had come, and He brought us there, and we saw He was crying now, His mouth pulled back in a grimace of sorrow.

“You will need to crawl back into your pods,” He said. “If you will follow me, I can save you, but I cannot force you to take the positions. I need to take my own.”

He put us beside the ATOM pods we had arrived in, and then he was climbing up the tree. I peered across at Evelyn, and she back at me, curled in our painful places. We knew if we climbed into the pods, we would lose everything we had ever known, and all the treasure we had tried to take. But what choice was there?

I coughed and spluttered as I pulled myself into the pod, my black bark clothing curling off of me. I was like a baby, barely able to move, and all I could do was weep, and realize the depth of my selfishness. I saw out of the viewport the Man had taken His position indeed. He was on the tree now, becoming one with it, His arms splayed out across the tree’s limbs, the thorns I had not seen before piercing into him, and His blood was joining the tree. As the pod began to take on His organic matter, I could feel the transformation begin.

I could not see Evelyn. I could only see the Man, and He died, shattering as the tree took Him, and He cried out once in a language that I could not understand, but which my heart took in like sweet words spoken to my soul. The broken body that I had boiled and churned in the pod, and everything purged away, in a riotous wave of stinging, shining new.

When the pod I saw in jettisoned from the tree, and sprung away from that world, I saw, too, that the Man who had climbed the tree was gone, too, and somehow I knew that He somehow was walking again. Somehow it seemed He had escaped the thorns and suffering of the tree which had nearly killed me, and which Had indeed killed him.

I knew He had escaped those thorns because, even as I left the wondrous garden that was the astonishing world I had tried to steal, I knew the Man lived because the blood that burned in my heart was not my own.

I was something new, again. And the treasure I walked away with that day was greater than any I had searched for.

アトムポッドは重力に引かれて回転し、近くの惑星を検知してから長い眠りから覚めた。目覚めたとき、僕はアドレナリンが出ているのを感じた。何か良いことが僕を生き返らせたのだと知ったからだ。スクリーンの中でも、眼下に広がる世界が美しく、宝物に満ちているのがわかった。

「なかなかいいじゃない」 とイブリンの声がした。「この惑星は、今までで一番の収穫ね」

「それじゃ、ここにしよう」と僕は言った。「ワープして6日目、ようやく目が覚めたってわけか」


僕たちは空から落下した。卵型のポッドが大気圏を横切って火の玉のように燃えていた。そして水の上を滑走した。広がる海、一番近い星のきらめく炎が頭上に輝き、僕たちが使える生命体を探した。

「忘れちゃいけないよ」と僕は言った。「いいサンプルが取れるような大きさでないといけないからね。僕たちが本当に楽しめるように、すべてがスムーズに運ぶようにしたいんだ」

「そうね」イブリンは言った。「選ぶほどたくさんあるんだし」


そして、空には不思議な鳥のような生き物が飛び、海には極細の足をした昆虫のようなものが颯爽と現れ、丘からは何十億という蔓が突き出し、太陽に向かって伸びている。でも僕たちはとにかく大きなものが必要だった。これらの生命体は、後で命を奪うこともできるが、僕たちの適応エンジンが本当に機能するためには大きなものが必要だった。

「あの木が見える？」イブリンが言った 「あそこ。今まで見た中で一番大きい木だわ。青々として力強い。あれなら使えるんじゃない？」


それは、確かに木のようだった。何百フィートもの高さで、巨大な手足を広げ、僕たちを歓迎している。樹皮は白、黒、灰色と複雑に絡み合っている。葉の代わりに、緑色の泡のような球体がついている。だけど、最も美しいのは果実だ。巨大な球根状の果実が垂れ下がり、有機物で厚く覆われ、ジューシーで魅力的だった。

見た感じは良かったが「木を使うのはルール違反だ」と僕は言った。「木がうまく適応しないこともあるんだよ。うまくいかないかもしれない… 」

「大丈夫 よ」とイブリンは言った。「これよりいいものはないわよ。どうせ古いガイドラインは時代遅れだし、私たちの技術はどんどんアップデートされ、植物でも使えるようになるわ」

彼女は私の返事を待たず、すでにアトムポッドを潜らせていた。それは彼女のマシンよりも大きな巨大な赤い宇宙リンゴに突っ込んだ。すぐにポッドは変形し始め、果実と一体化した。

「なんてことなの」とイブリンは言った。「この果実や木は、この世界に適応するために必要なものをすべて与えてくれるから、何でも手に入れることができる。驚異的な力よ！」

ある世界を自分たちのものにしようと思ったら、まずその世界の有機物と融合して、自分たちの体がそこでも生きていけるようにならなければならない。宇宙を旅する体でポッドから出ようとすると、危険な新天地では弱く、無防備すぎるからだ。しかし、ルールでは木ではなく、動物の肉と血を使って適応することになっている。

「やったじゃない！」イブリンがインターフォン越しに叫んだ。「すごくいい！これよ、これ！」

イブリンの興奮した声を聞いて、僕は離れていられなくなった。僕のアトムポッドは、ほとんど制御不能の状態で空から降ってきて、僕は2番目の果実と結合し、ポッドは大きく湿った音を立てて果実に衝突した。すぐにポッドの皮が有機物を取り込み、果肉と同化した果汁が私の周りでゴボゴボと音を立てるのが聞こえた。


そして、僕は確かに感じた。力を。僕たちを支えるこの世界の知識が、植物の繊維と汁を通して僕の一部となったんだ。この世界を支配し、征服するために必要なすべてが、僕の体に注ぎ込まれるのを感じた。

数時間のうちに、僕たちの身体は任務にふさわしいものに改造され、ポッドの宇宙皮から姿を現した。僕の体はさらに大きく、さらに筋肉質になり、目はより鋭く、頭は生物圏の知識で溢れそうだった。

僕は世界の底に何十フィートも落ち、掴んだ足から蔓のような植物が囁くように離れていった。僕は咆哮し、空に向かって拳を振り下ろした。

「私たちはこの世界の支配者よ」イブリンはそう言って、僕のそばに歩み寄ってきた。「必要なものはすべて手に入れてみせる」


「そうだね、でも気をつけるんだ」僕はそう言って、木から黒い樹皮を剥がそうと手を伸ばした。「新しい皮膚を保護しなくてはいけない」

分子を変化させる化学物質を塗り、身を包む布を作ると、黒い樹皮が僕たちの体に滲み出てきた。やがて僕たちは、走り、笑い、新しい世界から欲しいものを何でも手に入れるようになった。

もう何も僕たちに逆らうことはできない。新しい故郷の生物たちは、その多様性と美しさをもってしても、僕たちの先進的な武器と強力な新しい肉体を打開することはできなかった。見つけたもの、欲しかったもの、すべてを手に入れた。宝物、果物、価値のあるものはすべて僕たちの前にひれ伏し、キャリングケースの中の携帯用ブラックホールでミクロのサイズに縮小されて、収集モジュールに入った。

「この世界は、人類の歴史の中で何もかも揃っている最高の場所だわ！」とイブリンは叫んだ。「見てよ、この鉱物、豊かな生物たち、丘の上にある金属、海の質、そしてまだまだあるはずよ！」

僕は笑って、空中に何十フィートも跳び、低木の上を飛び跳ね、足元のものをすべて押しつぶした。


けれど、日が経つにつれて何かがおかしいと思うようになってきた。ある朝、目が覚めると自分の中で何かが壊れていることに気づいて、一筋の恐怖が心を突き刺すのを感じた。下を見ると、皮膚がひび割れていた。必死で走ろうとすると、足がすくむ。


「イブリン！」 僕は叫んだ 「どうなってるんだ？」

彼女は緑の中から現れたが、一目見ただけで彼女にも欠陥があることが分かった。あの日、僕が見た彼女の新しい体の力は、半減し壊れていた。彼女がこちらを向いたとき、骨に何かが軋んだ。

「死は、私たちが取り込んだこの有機物の中にあるのよ。完全には適応しなかったのかしら？技術に問題が？」イブリンは言った。

僕は彼女の腕を掴み、指の間からジリジリとした痛みを感じながら、彼女を抱きしめた。


「君のせいだ！」と僕は言った。「ガイドラインでは、適応する際に木を使わないようにと警告したのに！なぜ、僕の言うことを聞かなかったんだ？」

「あなたが賢いのなら、なぜその果物を追って自分の都合のいいように使ったの？」とイブリンは言い返した「えらそうな口きかないでよ！」

「二人とも言い訳ばかりしているの気づかないのか？」と突然声がした。 「振り返ってみなさい。どのようにして自分を破滅に導いてきたか」


誰かが近くの植物を踏みしめていた。その足音は、まるで雷のようだった。しかし、その声には優しさがあり、僕たちの心に響いてくる。

それは、この世界の支配者である「あの方」だった。僕たちの誰よりも大きく 完璧な形をし、無敵だった。僕たちはこの有機体を通して適応するはずで、どんな木でも、どんな哀れな生き物でも、すべてを奪って自分のものにしようと躍起になる必要はないのだと、なぜかすぐにわかった。


あの方は近づいてきて、僕たちの手を取り、下草の中を案内してくれた。僕たちは、目に涙を浮かべながら、彼と一緒に歩こうとした。僕たちの体は壊れ、ひび割れ、ばらばらになった。


「私が君を運ぶ。でも、君の宝物は置いていくんだ」とあの方は言った。「盗んだもの全てを運ぶ時間も場所もない」と。

どうしたらいいのだろう。しかし、体が震え、ひび割れ、指の関節が痛む。ブラックホール・モジュールは私の手から落ち、渦巻く下草の中に入っていった。

「もっと早く、急ぐんだ」とあの方は言い、彼の立派な筋肉が僕たちを引っ張り、私たちが最初に見つけた木が見えた。あの方は僕たちをそこに連れてきてくれたのだ。あの方は泣いているのに気づき、彼の口は悲しみの苦笑いを浮かべているのが見えた。

「君たちはポッドに戻るべきだ 」とあの方は言った。「もしついてきてくれるなら、君たちを救える。でも、君に強制することはできない。私は自分のをみつけなければいけない」


あの方は僕たちが到着した ATOM ポッドの横に僕たちを置き、木に登り始めた。僕はイブリンを覗き込み、イブリンも僕の方を見て、苦しみでうずくまった。僕たちは、もしポッドに入った時点で今までのすべてを失い、手に入れようとした宝物も永遠に失われてしまうことを知っていた。


でもそうすれば生き残ることができる。

僕はポッドの中で震えた。まるで赤ん坊のようで、ほとんど動くことができず、ただ涙を流し、自分のあまりの身勝手さを思い知らされた。視界の外には、あの方が自分の位置についたのが見えた。彼は今、木の上にいて、木と一体化していた。彼の腕は木の枝に広がり、見たことのない棘が彼の腕を刺し、血が木に流れ込んでいた。さやが彼の有機物を取り込み始めると、彼の変容が始まるのを感じた。

あの方は、僕には理解できないが、僕の心がどういうわけか知っている言語で、一度叫びながら死んでいった。僕の壊れた体は鞘の中で煮えくり返り、すべてが浄化され、刺すように輝く新しい波となった。

僕が座っていたポッドが木から飛び出し、その世界から離陸したとき、僕は木に登っていたあの方もいなくなったのを見て、なぜか彼が死んだ後再び歩いているのを見た。なぜなら僕が盗もうとしていた驚くべき世界である不思議な庭を離れても、僕の心で燃えた血は僕のものではなかったので、彼が生きていることが分かったからだ。


僕は生まれ変わった。そしてその日、僕が手にした宝物は、僕がこれまで探し求めていたどんなものよりも偉大なものだった。

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Fished–a short story

Written by Nicholas Driscoll

Originally submitted to a story contest on Reedsy Prompts, in response to the prompt “Write about someone who’s so obsessed with a goal that it leads to the destruction of their closest relationship.”

Leonard Field watched the blurry white dot high above, longing to pull himself out of the muck at the bottom of the swamp. He was halfway submerged beneath the mud, and the rest of his body too was darker now. He clenched his right hand around a chain that happened to be splayed out across the swamp bottom, the individual links digging into his fresh-rugged flesh.

“I can breathe out there,” he said. “Nothing is keeping me down here.”

He could speak underwater, and when he did, no rush of bubbles emitted from his mouth. He did not breathe air in the way he used to. Technically, he didn’t breathe at all. He didn’t need it anymore.

He felt fleshy tendrils around his shoulders gently press against his body; the armored tubes that pierced his chest expanded and contracted.

“We can breathe here for you,” said the voice on his back. “As long as we need to.”

Leonard allowed himself to sink an inch more into the mud, his eyes still staring upwards. The white blur shifted and twinkled, and the fear he felt that it might go away constricted his heart.

“I have to go up there,” he said. “I can’t stay here forever.”

The voice on his back hummed contemplatively, the vibrations providing his body a warm and gentle massage.

“We must agree together,” it said. “Wherever we go.”

Leonard did not reply. The mud covered his mouth. He pushed himself deeper into the dank sludge, brushing against the chain as he did so. He heard the click of metal links, the shifting of silt. He was beneath the floor of the swamp.

Restless. Waiting.

Leonard and the thing slipped across the bottom of the swamp, exploring. The voice on his back was moving its muscles as they went. Leonard could feel it probing, snapping up weeds and small fish, crunching up crustaceans.

They never rose far from the floor of the swamp, always staying close to the mud, where they could easily escape danger any moment. Though the mud floor seemed like nothing but slime and sludge from the surface, there was a home underneath of tunnels and chambers that could easily be accessed by easing through the filmy, gooey silt and ooze that was the floor and was the ceiling.

Leonard paddled languidly while pulling himself along with his hands, dislodging plants, chasing out small animals so the thing on his back could catch them and eat them.

“You should eat, too,” it said. “Your body can eat them now.”

Though Leonard looked down at the floor of the swamp, his mind was above. He remembered cooked foods. Steak. Hamburgers. Even skewers of fish roasted over a fire. A wriggling swamp worm was not food. It was a horror show.

“Are they still there?” he asked.

“We share much now,” the voice said. “When I eat, you take nutrients, but… If you don’t eat and use your own body, you become weaker. It’s bad for us both.”

“It’s bad for us if I don’t see her,” he said. “It makes me weak not to see her.”

“You want to mate,” it said. “It’s a good thing, to reproduce. But the timing isn’t right.”

“I want to live,” Leonard said, and he turned his body around so that his face was towards the sky.

The white blur was still there, not far away. Still shifting in the waves. Still calling to him. Despite being underwater, his mouth felt suddenly dry.

“Watch out!”

The voice spoke too late. Leonard’s head collided with a large rock. He curled up in a ball, clutching at the back of his skull. When he opened his eyes again, he saw strings of red rising around his line of sight.

“It’s not serious, I think,” said the voice. “I can look. I can lick it and make the wound clean.”

“No, no,” Leonard protested. “I’ll check it myself.”

He touched the wound, flinched.

“Oh, no one saved this one either,” said a voice.

Leonard felt his heart drop, and he began to uncurl himself to get a better look.

The rock he had hit his head on was in reality a piece of concrete, round, heavy, sunk in the mud. Above it was another chain, still mostly clean with only minor accretions of swamp muck in the links. The chain floated upwards towards the surface and attached at the end of the chain was a man, naked, and very much dead. But his body was still buoyant enough to keep the corpse from settling down to the ocean floor just yet. Leonard stared at dead body, the series of bubbles still stringing up faintly from the deathly dumb face.

“We can eat him,” said the voice. “He is still fresh, and the flesh will be good for you. Familiar flesh for your body.”

The man looked familiar. Leonard had not known the man well, but he had been a crewmember on the ship. John or Dell or something, it didn’t matter anymore.

Something was happening up there. Crewmembers were dying, and they were burying them in the swamp, where their bodies could become a part of the ecosystem again—a cold and scientific way to deal with the dead, but one he approved of. It was the right thing to do. But still, why were they dying?

Were his friends okay? And what about her?

“I have to see why these men are dying,” Leonard said. “I can’t stay down here forever.”

“That which floats on the surface is large and dangerous,” said the voice. “It swallows many lives. Even before you fell to this world, that which floats took many lives from below. This voice does not trust it.”

Leonard was quiet for a time.

“I came from there,” he said. “They are waiting for me.”

“Are they?” asked the voice, monotone.

Leonard continued to pull himself along the bottom of the swampland, and a slow prickling annoyance arose and seemed to prance upon his temples. Of course they were waiting for him.

Of course she was waiting for him.

Several days later he caught sight of her. When the voice on his back was asleep, Leonard crept out onto a small island far from the ship. It was barely an island so much as a swath of thick mud and reeds that could only just bear his weight, and his limbs were deep in the muck.

Though he was far from the ship, he knew a way to peer long distances with clarity, as if looking through a pair of binoculars. It was a trick the voice had taught him after they had become one. Leonard’s body had changed in some ways after the voice had fused with his back. His hair had thinned, and webs had grown between fingers and toes. The voice had shown him that he could touch fingers to thumb in a certain way, and then, after running his hand through the water, pick up bubbles that, if he shifted his fingers just right, would form into makeshift lenses in his hand—lenses through which he could peer and see farther away.

Of course, peering through a bubble caused some distortion and warping of the image, and if there were impurities in the bubble—refuse from the swamp water—they could disrupt his vision. It took him several tries that morning on the mud island, hiding behind the reeds, before he could get the bubbles shaped just right in his hands, and clean and clear enough to look through.

She was walking on the deck. Long, dark hair framed her perfect, moon-shaped face, now distorted through the filmy water She was wearing a white one-piece swimming suit that hugged her curves, delineating her body. His mouth watered as he stared at her breasts, her hips. Even through the bubbles in his hand, she was gorgeous.

He remembered the first time he had been close to her, smelling a warm scent of jasmine. When they had held hands, the flesh of her fingers so soft in his rough laborer’s hands, the way she would kiss him fiercely on the lips, how they would…

On the ship, she raised her hand to her mouth, a small red dot winked on, then she flicked something into the water below. A cigarette—no doubt one of the new “safe” ones with none of the dangers and a healthy hit of vitamin C, but still… littering here? That was against regulations. He would have to chastise her lightly when he…

The thing with the voice on his back seemed to hum, a feeling like a light vibration playing against his spine. It was waking up. It wouldn’t want him on the surface of the water. It definitely wouldn’t want him spying like this. He didn’t want a fight over what his body did or where his body went.

He clenched his teeth and backed away into the water, letting the colorful and translucent water cress close over his head.

The voice didn’t say anything about the island visit until they were in the tunnels later that day.

The tunnels stretched in every direction underneath the swamp. They were not just the living quarters that Leonard and the thing on his back called home, but other scampering creatures lived there, too. Leonard was always careful stepping through the tunnels because he didn’t know when one of the clawed, sinuous lyre worms would ping like a struck note and lunge out of the puddles to latch on to his heel.

“It is good to walk carefully above too,” the voice said.

“I was careful,” Leonard replied. “I wasn’t even walking. I was low. I got down into the water when you started waking up.”

He had hoped the voice hadn’t noticed that he had been out. It often slept so deeply, but this time… He clenched his fists, and the webbing between his fingers crinkling uncomfortably.

“Better to stay in the tunnels,” said the voice. “You can’t find anything of value on the mud banks.”

“She is my girlfriend!” snapped Leonard. “She cares about me, and you’re keeping me from her! What do you expect me to do, wait underwater until my balls fall off?”

The thing on his back seemed to tense against his shoulders, and it let out a thin stream of warm water that ran down the small of his back. He used to think the creature was urinating on him, but apparently it thought it was calming him down with a “gift” of warm and comforting liquid stored and heated in its body.

It didn’t comfort him. The anger burned hotter.

“If we leave this swamp, we can find other options,” said the voice.

Leonard felt his eyes flash, and he nearly choked with rage.

“I am a human being! And I want to love a human being!”

The thing on his back seemed to consider this. Leonard waited, expecting another warm trickle of not-urine to snake its way down his thighs. It didn’t come.

“Are you sure who she is?” the thing said.

“I’m in love with her,” Leonard said, feeling an overwhelming longing. “I want her.”

The thing hummed and held him, crouching in the dark in the tunnel.

“I will catch a twinkling eel tonight,” said the voice. “It has a pleasing poison inside, it will make you feel good.”

No, thought Leonard. Nothing would make him feel good enough as long as he was under the swamp, stuck in these tunnels, away from his real life, away from everything that he was supposed to be.

The twinkling eel—a long and sinuous blue creature with dozens of sparkling appendages that snap and writhe as it swims—was delicious in its way. Leonard did not eat it, of course. However, even still, after the thing on his back consumed it, Leonard felt the effects of the toxins in the eel’s body entering his own bloodstream.

They filled him, fingertip to fingertip, toes to scalp, with a sense of kinetic energy and a rush of euphoria. Like jagged waves of energy, he felt his nerves jangle and swim across his skin. It felt as if the allure of the toxin reached into his farthest depths, into his deepest desires.

And he saw her. Salinda Powers. Her flashing smile, her curving waist, her flowing hair. Every word like steam from her lips, beckoning him. Every movement lithe and smooth and seductive, like the most delectable dream.

The voice was silenced on his back. Whatever effects the toxins may have had on Leonard, their force must have been multiplied several times over on the thing as it was the one who consumed the eel directly.

Thinking that the voice could not resist any longer, Leonard stumbled through the tunnels, treading over lyre worms and clicker crabs, and pushed out of the muddy bottom of the swamp, out into the water, and up, up, the excitement inside him building, eyes wide, staring at the blur of white above as it grew larger and larger.

He felt the power inside, felt invincible, felt a lust he could not contain. His webbed hands grasped the chain leading off the side of the ship. The cold metal sent a shock of pleasure through him, almost as if he was caressing her arm. Hand over hand he climbed, his breathing ragged, the thing on his back like a dead weight.

He clawed his way onto the ship, gasping, eyes on fire, teeth bared in desire, and pushed himself to his feet.

“Salinda,” he croaked.

He saw her, pointing at him. He tried to smile.

And the men came. They had sticks of electricity. He could not look at them, but only at Salinda, even as the electricity called out his voice and sent his screams spearing into the sky.

When Leonard awoke, something was missing, and something else was there. In his state of mind, it took him some time to figure out which was which, despite the gaping psychological absence. He tried to feel his face, but found that he was bound, and when he tried to turn his head, he discovered himself encased in wires and tubes at every quarter.

Clacking footsteps rang out, and when Leonard looked up, he saw Salinda. As she came more clearly into view, he saw she was wearing a long white coat over a professional gray top and ironed raven-black pants. Her mouth was open in excitement, and he tried to speak, but heard a strange rasping sound instead.

“Shhh,” Salinda said. “You’ve gone through a lot. Your throat sustained a lot of damage I’m afraid.”

She sounded gentle, and Leonard wanted to lean into the comfort of her voice, but he saw in her eyes a jet professionalism mixed with a frightening excitement that pulled at the corners of her mouth and gave a taut character to the skin around her eyes.

“Salinda,” he managed, hearing his voice finally in that awful rasping.

“You remember me,” she said, and allowed her face to be pulled into a savage smile. “I thought you might.”

Leonard imagined those days before, in the spaceship, holding Salinda close, his hand upon her cheek, her hand upon his side. Feeling his hands now as he clawed at the bedsheets, he only found rough scales, the webs between his digits stiffer now, even more uncomfortable.

“I love you,” he said.

The savage smile softened a bit, and she pressed her lips together in a sympathetic grin.

“That might have been the difference,” she said. “That might have been what finally brought one of you back.”

He stared at her, desperately, willing the restraints to go away, aching to reach out for her.

“You deserve an explanation,” she said, taking notes from the monitors connected to his flesh. “We wanted the parasite. But the parasites are smart. Smart, but, I don’t know, good-hearted? Some of the other scientists are already calling them the Samaritan suckers. They suck onto you, you know—and they are suckers for someone who is dying underwater.”

Leonard almost choked.

“Some people did die,” Salinda said. “The suckers don’t always rescue everyone. They bond with land-dwellers so that they, too, can become ambulatory on land. But they also seem to want to save people, and prefer to bond with sentient lifeforms. We don’t really know why yet, but we are trying to figure it out.”

Leonard thought back to the many times it had warned him, how it tried to help him.

“Turns out we got real lucky,” she said, patting Leonard on the upper arm. “Not only did one of the suckers go for the bait finally, it just happened to be a bait that I had had a fling with. At the time I never dreamed that dalliance would matter. Just a nice pastime, you know, and you weren’t so ugly, and I knew you wouldn’t stay around forever. We just tied you to a rock, like we deal with corpses anyway. We thought the chains would hold you, and then we would have the sucker, too, captured as it tried to bond with you. But it managed to get you loose.”

Leonard felt fireworks in his mind, broken shards of darkness and light.

“Where is he?” he hissed.

“Oh,” said Salinda, frowning a little. “Unfortunately the sucker didn’t survive. Thought it would be hardier than that. But we can still learn a lot from its remains. We are dissecting it now.”

The smile appeared again on Salinda’s face, the same kind of taut excitement returning, pulling open her cheeks so that they revealed teeth that nearly snarled, flashing in the harsh light. She put her hand on his, her flesh soft, her fingers hooking around his scales.

“We will learn a lot from you, too.”