User:Concerned Reader/Lotka Volterra
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Author: Concerned Reader
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{{#ifeq: Concerned Reader | |
Author: Concerned Reader |
Author: Concerned Reader
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{{#ifeq: Concerned Reader | | Authors: ' |
Authors: Concerned Reader
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{{#ifeq: Concerned Reader | |
Authors: Concerned Reader |
Author: Concerned Reader
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}} {{#if:| — see also [[:Category:{{{category}}}|other works by this author]]}}
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{{#if:Jigsaw green.png|}} | Pig and Whistle story universe |
This was originally meant to be set in the Pig and Whistle story universe. I've retooled it a bit so that it works well enough as a stand alone story so that I could use it for a Creative Writing class. Even so, I still want the characters to be available within the setting of Pig and Whistle, so just make some mental adjustments for the time being. This is only half of the story, as I still have yet to completely finish the other half, but expect the rest soon enough.
This wind is too hot.
That was the first thought to ever enter my head. I wasn’t even really aware of myself at the time. I just knew that I had to get out of this scorching, abrasive wind. That was as far ahead as I could think. I couldn’t see past my own little world. Maybe if I’d been thinking faster I’d have noticed more than just me and my twelve inch patch of sand. Perhaps I’d have linked the sudden scorching wind with the fiery trail that split the darkening sky in half. Maybe I’d have ran as far away as my four spindly legs could take me. Maybe I could have watched as twelve miles of desert floor suddenly and violently threw itself into the air. But no, I didn’t do any of those. I was too busy digging into my twelve inches of sand. The sound hit me first, like thunder made physical. The force of it drove me deeper into the sand. Everything compressed for a moment as a shiver ran through the ground, then the world turned upside down with me in the middle of it. As I tumbled through the air, the only thing I knew in that reptile brain of mine was that, if I survived, nothing would ever be the same.
At the time I really had no concept of what was going on. I had thoughts and feelings, but no real language or foundation to give them meaning. I’d love to tell you about that transition; going from a mindless lizard to whatever it is that I am now, but everything before this point is a blur of instinct and learned response. This is as far back as my memory goes, and even so it’s like the desert floor: changing with the slightest gust of wind. Only the tallest dunes survived intact. This is just the first dune; there were many more made after it.
Somehow, against all odds, I survived that first dune. My scales were cracked and burned, there was a constant ringing in my ears, and it’d be weeks before I dislodged all the sand from the creases of my spines; but I was alive. Suddenly the world was much bigger than the twelve inch patch of sand. I’d been thrown out into the world to find something that I’d never had before: an expanse of possibilities. I could do anything and everything. So of course the first thing I did was find food. The ants I found and followed served as both a delicious snack as well as a trail to a nice little rock formation. With my stomach no longer clamoring for attention, exhaustion spilled over me. I settled down comfortably among the rocks and fell asleep.
Waking up during the first few weeks of my change was always very odd. The transition between sleeping and waking never used to be slow. The sand would warm my body and blood to a certain temperature and then I’d be up and running, doing whatever it was that I used to do. After the changes started, the process grew longer, like clouds were being parted in my head, letting the sun in so my mind could warm up too. I am laying in sand. The sand is warm. The wind is blowing. The air tastes fine. The sun is bright. There are no immediate threats around my rocks. That last part caught my attention. Not that there wasn’t any immediate danger; there’s always danger when you’re my size, but that these rocks were mine. I sat on that thought for a while. I had found these rocks, and even with my sand blasted senses I could tell that nothing else had laid a claim on them. Well, except for the walking buffet of ants. They were more of a bonus to go with it. These were my rocks, those were my ants, and this was my home. My Home. I liked the sound of that.
Whatever had happened that night, so many days ago, had affected me in more ways than I could imagine. I almost always woke up feeling hungry. I figured out later that it must have been because of how drastically my body was changing. If it takes food to make my body move, then it must take a lot of food to make my body change. That was another new step in my morning routine. Figuring out what all had changed. My arms and legs were growing longer, my body was growing wider and flatter, and my head and neck seemed to be receding. The end result being that each day it was harder and harder for me to move. Not that I had any reason to. I had My Home and My Ants right here. Everything I needed to survive. By all rights I should have been happy, and for a while I was, but for some reason food and shelter weren’t enough anymore. There was something missing, and my longing for it only grew over time. The desert felt bigger and bigger every passing day, and even though I was growing along with it, I felt smaller and smaller.
I eventually met another lizard. He must have followed the trail of ants back to it’s source by my home. I tried to interact with him, but that’s pretty hard when you don’t quite know how to communicate. He did the standard show of dominance. Push ups and body swelling to try and look bigger and meaner. I did much the same, only I was bigger and meaner. He scuttled back a ways and I didn’t go after him. It wasn’t worth the effort. He stayed a few dozen body lengths away from my home from then on. Every now and then I’d see him flash by to grab a few ants before retreating back to his burrow. Even though he was eating my ants, I was glad for the company while it lasted. Which was until a coyote caught up to him. I watched from the safety of my rocks as the coyote devoured him. There was nothing to be done. His time was up. The coyote was bigger, faster, and stronger. That’s how things work.
Life went on that same way for several more days, and I was more or less used to it by now. The dunes in my life had leveled off, so when I ran straight into what may be the biggest dune in my life, I was completely unprepared. My sleep ended abruptly. Something was wrong. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t see, and I could hardly breath. I thought that my home had caved in, the rocks and dirt crushing down on me. Each breath was pulled from my lungs as soon as I tried to inhale. Each gasp for air growing shallower than the last as my lungs ceased to function. My eyes refused to blink. I tried and tried to clear the darkness or dirt or film from my vision, but it wasn’t working. I strained and strained until something finally shifted. Relief flooded me, until the smell of blood hit my nose. The capillaries around my eyes had ruptured for their last time, releasing my blood to run down what was left of my face. It was too much. I was ready to just give up. To stop trying. Stop breathing. Anything to end this agony. So I did. I stopped struggling. Everything shut down. I was splayed out somewhere around my little cave of a home with no connection to outward reality. For all I knew, I ceased to exist.
A glimmer in the dark. Something was approaching: A blur in the darkness, blinking in and out of focus. Shimmering in the dark. I don’t know how I’d been separated from reality, but just being able to see something made my heart jump. At least as much as a heart can jump when you’re paralyzed. So I waited for whatever it was to come closer. It was all I could do anyways, but that was enough for me. The blur did come closer along a winding path. I could make out the shape of a body now, but to what sort of creature, I had no idea. It seemed to have four legs, like the coyotes that prowl around at night, but the white blur traveled along only two of it’s legs. The other two whipped back and forth through the air with every step. And every now and then its steps would bring it closer to me.
The blur bent over me, and for once I could see it clearly. I still didn’t know what it was, other than it was exceedingly weird looking. I didn’t get as long a look as I would’ve liked, because my body suddenly sprang back to life and threw me directly into it. Feeling had just began to return to my body when I blacked out again.
The sand cascaded down the mountain. In my mind, I mean. Like the wind had blown a bit too hard and now everything was crashing down. Then the noise hit me, as if the same wind was now screeching through the gaps in my brain. Information followed along behind the wind and began plugging up the holes. Filling the gaps and crevices. Creating connections and bridges between thoughts and ideas. The heat of a new sun waking up my body. Everything started to come together. I could feel again. Something was scratching along my body. Not quite painful, but more than uncomfortable. I could hear the scratching as well, along with a loud whistle. My eyes opened next, only they weren’t mine. I could see out of them, but I couldn’t control them. It didn’t matter to me though, I was just so happy to be able to see again. Through those eyes I saw myself for the first time. Or rather, saw the part of me that hadn’t yet been covered in dark crimson blood. My body was fused with some other creature’s. I could see the spines and spikes that used to go around my sides. They were almost entirely obscured by the congealing blood as they punctured outwards from torn pink flesh. Inside of that ring of spines the blood had been wiped away to reveal my hardened scales, but it was quickly pooling over again. I didn’t know what sort of creature I’d been embedded into, but knew I was watching through it’s eyes as it tried to tear me apart.
Something clicked, and a stream of data hit my brain. Language and labels at long last formed within my mind. Human. Male. Angry. Pain. Rage. Parasite. Violation. Whoever it was that I had latched onto wasn’t happy about it. I wasn’t too thrilled myself, but it had to be better than slowly suffocating to death. I didn’t have a chance to think about it further, because his eyes suddenly darted over to a screaming tea kettle. In quick succession he grabbed a large bowl, threw in a large kitchen knife, and then poured in the boiling water. I saw all of this through his eyes, and without really being aware of it, I knew exactly what everything was. I also knew exactly what he was planning to do, and for the first time since ‘awakening,’ I was afraid.
It was a lot to process. I was attached to the sternum of a very large and very angry human male who was hellbent on cutting me off of him. If he separates my body from his, his liver will cease to function and we will both die. I don’t know where the thought came from, but there it was, and I had no reason to doubt it. I didn’t much want to die so soon after my new lease on life, and I assumed that humans would have a similar ideology. So I did the only thing I could, which was try and think ‘STOP!’ as loudly as possible.
He stopped. Probably more out of surprise than anything else. I was so surprised myself that I forgot to keep talking. “Who’s there?” He shouted, brandishing the knife at the door, followed by each corner of the room before he returned it to point directly at me. “Now is a really shitty time, come back later!”
Hearing his voice pulled me out of my reverie enough to attempt another reply in his head. “Human Man Thing, I would suggest you drop the knife unless you want to die.”
He dropped the knife. Again, probably more out of surprise than fear or obedience. It stuck into the wood floor with a soft thud. He stood there for a moment, before collapsing onto his couch, breathing heavily. My body rose and fell with each of his breaths. I didn’t know what to do. It was all just so extremely different. So I just started rambling in his head.
“Look, I do not quite understand it, but we are stuck together now and apparently I am your liver or something so it would probably be best for the both of us if you do not try and pry me off with sharp pointy objects otherwise I will be forced to do something drastic and more than likely unpleasant.” At least I was starting to get the hang of communication. I really hoped that he wouldn’t figure out that I couldn’t actually do anything at all.
He stared at the ceiling for a moment longer, until I was just starting to see patterns in the texture, when he jumped to his feet. “No!” he shouted, as he smashed his fist into both of our bodies. It didn’t really hurt me, at least, probably not as much as he would have liked. Instead he achieved the grand total effect of knocking the wind out of himself, splashing his blood all over the floor, and cutting up the skin on his knuckles.
“Aah, Fuck you!” He gasped out. I got a very good look at the carpeted floor as he doubled over wheezing. “You fucking parasitic scum bag! Get the fuck off my chest! I swear if you gave me fucking space aids I will murder the shit out of you with your own spikey ass!”
He kept up his blue streak for some time. Pacing back and forth as angry words poured out of his mouth. I was just along for the ride. He probably wouldn’t even hear anything I had to say, so I just waited until he wore himself out. When he finally ran out of steam and vitriol I spoke again. “Alright look, I do not know where you got the idea, but I am not a parasite. I am a-- I do not know fuck what I am, but If you leave me fucking alone, I will not hurt you. We have two options available. Either you succeed in tearing me from your body and we both die slow and painful deaths, or we learn to live fucking together. It is your choice.”
I threw in some of the words he had used in an effort to be more convincing, but instead he just burst out laughing. I couldn’t figure out why. He’d been so angry a few moments before, and now he was almost falling over with laughter. “What is so funny?” I asked.
“Holy shit, but are you fucking terrible at cursing!” How he managed to speak between laughing and inhaling I’ll never know, but at the least he wasn’t trying to murder me anymore. That was a big step up. “Oh damn,” he continued, “I’m gonna need some painkillers and something stiff to drink. This is a night to forget for sure.”
“I do not think it will be that easy, human. It is not like I will disappear during the night.”
“I have a name you know. Just call me Jon for now. It’s a lot easier for me to trust you if I don’t feel like I’m talking to a fucking robot, you know? So what should I call you?”
That stopped me cold. I’d never thought about it before. I mean, I knew that everything had a name. Like we were sitting on a “couch” and that he had just tried to stab me with a “knife.” It just never occurred to me that I didn’t have a name for myself.
“I-- I do not know.” The full wait of it struck me as I said it. “ I do not have a name.”
“Well then,” Jon exclaimed, “I guess we’re stuck together, so I’ll have to fix that. But first I’m going to take about fifty aspirin and then drink until I pass out.”
Jon followed through on his plan down to the letter. A handful of aspirin and quite a few glasses later and he was passed out on the couch. I didn’t sleep much. Actually, I’m pretty sure I didn’t sleep at all. As Jon fell into his stupor, my connection to the outside world grew dimmer and dimmer. Again I found myself unable to see, hear, smell, or even feel. I wasn’t scared this time though. For once it felt natural, like this was how things were supposed to be. It felt like the world had finally stopped spinning around so fast. I could finally take some time to think things over. So while Jon slept off his drunken stupor, that’s exactly what I did.
Unfortunately, when the morning came, I was the one with the headache. Or more like a whole body ache. Every part of me that I could feel pulsed with an uncomfortable pressure, like I was a cactus that’d been over watered in a storm. Jon was in the bathroom peeling off his clothes. They’d been plastered to his body with now dried blood and sweat, and they pulled away with a nasty scratching noise, like sand rubbing against a rock. He’d removed his shirt sometime last night, but now it was laying on the bathroom counter. There was a massive tear through the middle of it, almost bisecting it horizontally. He looked from the shirt to his reflection in the mirror.
“Son of a bitch,” he said, more to the air than to me, “That was my favorite shirt too.”
“Was that my doing?”
Jon looked down at me through the mirror. “Oh, you’re awake are you?” I couldn’t see his face, but his voice hardly masked the derision dripping through his teeth. “You burst through my shirt like a fucking face hugger in reverse. So yeah, you did that.”
I knew what the correct response was. I was supposed to apologize, but I wasn’t feeling it. I wasn’t sorry for any of it. In fact, I’d be dead if I hadn’t done it. But, pulling from my new found social awareness, I apologized anyways. Jon grunted some sort of a response, but his attention was more or less held by the tweezers he was using to pick little bits of skin away from where my body joined his.
“What did you drink last night?”
“Really shitty whiskey.”
“Is that why I feel so horrible?”
Jon paused a moment to pull a particularly stubborn scrap of flesh away, wincing as it finally tore free. He threw the tweezers onto the counter and grabbed a bottle of Hydrogen Peroxide. “Yeah. It seems you’ve inherited my hangover. I guess that’s the silver lining on this fucking typhoon you dropped into my life.”
“I don’t really know how to reply to that. You are welcome I guess.”
“This might sting a bit.”
“What might--” I started, but by then he’d upended the bottle of peroxide and poured it directly onto his chest. It settled over me like the chill from a cold wind. Pins and needles trailed behind, walking across what used to be my back. “Oh. Well, that is unpleasant.”
“Relax, it ain’t gonna kill you. I’m just cleaning out all the bacteria and shit you probably shoved directly into my chest.”
“I know that much, but wouldn’t it be better to see a medical expert?”
“If I had time and money, yeah. I’d have skipped fucking around with you myself and gone straight there.” Jon paused briefly to screw the cap back on the peroxide bottle before tossing it onto the counter as well. “But as it is, I’m in a bit of a rush. I don’t have time for six months of testing and scientific method bullshit or whatever the hell they’d do when they find little alien things like you.”
“Look, I’m not an alien. I have told you that before. I mean, I know that I’m a bit of an anomaly, but as far as I know Earth is my home. You have to understand, I have no idea what I’m doing, nor what’s going on outside of this room. This is probably just as new for me as it is for you.”
“Alright, fair enough. At the least you don’t seem to be malicious, or malignant, or whatever the fuck ‘m’ word that is. Now can you shut up for a while? I’m gonna take a shower and it’ll be awkward enough as it is.”