Chapter Eight: I, Kaiju

He woke from a falling dream that was especially vivid, since he’d really been falling.

He lay on his back, bewildered and sore, wondering what it was obstructing his limbs. He was tied down with a wire-thin material. Its vicious strands cut him when he struggled. So he lay still, gazing up at slim, artisanal buildings.

Some sort of life form moved nearby. Citizens or local fauna? He didn’t know. Two of them scampered away when he rolled his head left. He glimpsed pale green limbs, whip-like tails and furiously bobbing heads.

A couple more beings advanced, cautiously curious, on his right. Their scales were like brilliant mosaic abstracts. Their heads were topped with festive-looking crests. They looked no larger than chipmunks. If these were the city’s residents, then its buildings were smaller and closer than he’d thought.

He fretted morbidly over whether his landing had crushed buildings—or even worse, citizens. He seemed to be lying on tarmac, which felt undisturbed. Perhaps he’d been dragged there.

Several lizard folk congregated nearby, chittering in high, enervated voices. Their snoutish faces were set in anxious half-smiles. Their sensitive, slit-pupiled eyes were trained on one particular building. Their delicate, clawed digits pointed to the dark, monstrous thing climbing it.

He recognized the creature’s jointed segments, its leathery black carapace. In a flash of memory, he recalled it bolting through a hole in spacetime after Girl Zero (that stoned sadist in a lab coat, with her shiny scissors) chopped off one of its legs. It seemed to have grown four new limbs quite unlike its jointed arthropod legs. The new limbs were more like human arms.

It scaled the building, hand-over-hand, like a fearful cub. Then it froze, panicked at how high it had climbed.

Gawking reptiles made way for blocky-looking vehicles that resembled half-tracks. These fired with sharp reports, like cap pistols. Ordinance smacked the building. Scaly citizens fled falling debris.

Some rounds found their target, battering the creature. Frightened, it crept around the tower’s opposite side.

Thwarted, the tanks stopped shelling.

Moments later aircraft appeared, droning like model planes. They fired on the creature with sharp, repeating bursts. The creature clambered higher, in a pointless bid to escape.

The city’s air reeked of fear pheromones.

He strained at his bonds, frenzied by the smell. He yelped as the wires cut him.

“What do I do?” he queried short-breathed, hoping the nano-computer would answer. “How do I get out of—these?”

The nano-computer said nothing. Its silence felt pointed.

“Come on,” he pleaded. “You have to answer.”

In response, the nano-computer played back his recent, rather cruel statements about it.

“The thing that talks in my head?” said his own voice. “It’s useless.”

These words played over and over, inside his skull.

“Do it now,” said his recorded self, impatient for Girl Zero (that fucking strung-out scientist) to extract the nano-computer. “I hate that thing.”

“I didn’t mean that!” he pleaded. “I just—just…”

“Hate that thing. Hate that. Hate. Hate. Hate.”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” he yelled, pained by the recording’s volume.

He threw himself against the wires with a beastly howl, driven mad by his torments. One of his arms broke free, then a leg. Artillery stung him as he staggered, roaring inanely, to his feet.

He kicked over one tank by accident, then another on purpose. Lizard folk scattered in all directions.

He halted by the tower’s base, dumbly furious.

“Hate, hate, hate,” blared his own voice.

“Just shut up! Shut up!” he bawled.

The building shuddered as he pounded it in frustration. Concrete chunks crashed down on his head.

A female voice broke in.

“Climb the building,” Girl Zero prompted.

“What? No!”

Hearing her made him furious.

“Listen to me…”

“Why should I listen to you? Why?”

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“I reset the nano-computer,” she said, cutting him off. “It won’t be angry now.”

“Are you going to reset me next? Make me forget you pushed me into this place—literally, physically pushed me?”

“I know I did. I had to.”

“Had to? Had to push me?”

He was incredulous.

“There was someone you needed not to meet. That would have been worse, believe me.”

“Worse? I’m being shot at. Ow! Ow!”

“Then climb the building. Get where the creature is.”

Having no ideas himself, he started climbing. Mortar crumbled under his fingers and booted toes, which at least gave him traction.

“They’re shooting at it up there,” he carped.

“I know.”

“After you cut its leg off.”

“I saved its life,” she protested.

“They’re trying to shoot it down.”

“Then get up there, to it.”

The building, though for tiny people, was still tall. He tried not to look down.

“I have a plan,” Girl Zero continued.

“Does it get us killed or just maimed?”

“You get out of here. Just trust me.”

“Are you fucking kidding?”

“Hate me if you want to. But trust me.”

He hove himself up uncertainly beside the creature. It seemed to have grown since he last saw it. Did it eat some of the lizard people, he wondered?

“Get ready, it’s opening.”

“Where? Where?”

An impossible hole in space opened and hung there before him. There was a dizzy drop between it and the building.

“Just step into it. creature will follow.”

The creature caught one of the planes, which crumpled like paper in its hand.

“I’m not sure.”

“Just do it!”

He stepped into mid-air, sick with vertigo.

Subway doors whooshed shut behind him. A deafening tri-tone sounded.

The creature collapsed on the floor, heavily, beside him.

The long car was full of empty seats, upholstered red. He sat down wearily in one of them and fell immediately to sleep.

 

(Next: The Mobius Subway)

(Previous: Dr. Cybrot)

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Chapter Seven: Dr. Cybrot

The boy who fell out of the void wouldn’t quit talking. He barraged her with frantic questions, not even pausing between.

Footfalls sounded just outside the room. Frustrated hands shook the door with pointed violence after finding it locked.

She was almost out of time.

With energy born of expedience, she grasped the creature by one of its myriad legs, while the rest of its limbs flexed in useless panic. With cutting forceps, she snapped the leg off with a hollow, wet pop.

In pain and terror, the creature fled on its remaining limbs. Zone Boy One (she had to remember to call him that) barked something in protest. She felt sickened and sorry. Her head throbbed from drugs and days of no sleep.

A fist smote the door’s thick wood.

“Let me in,” said a muffled voice. “You can’t…” Pound. Pound.

Silence for a moment. Then metal rasped on metal as different keys were tried.

In the same moment, a portal bloomed out of mid-air. It started as a marble-sized bolus of spacetime in absolute curvature.

She was down to seconds and everyone was in the wrong place.

She moved to intervene, but then remembered she had the creature’s severed leg in one hand and medical cutters in the other. The creature reared its jointed body defensively, where it cowered in a corner.

She retreated to the worktable, where she placed the leg in a stainless steel tray. She did this with apologetic care.

By then, the portal had inflated to an endlessly black sphere, like a giant dark pearl. It was bigger than the door, which was groaning open.

From certain angles the sphere presented a mirage like a tunnel stretching (or infinite tunnels) stretching forever. Perhaps the creature saw this, because it bolted for the portal, legs pistoning like train gears. Zone Boy stood there frozen as it bolted past, mouth stupidly agape.

His passiveness enraged her.

In a desperate fury, she shoved him at the portal, so roughly he lost balance. His body distended like a funhouse reflection as it sucked him inside.

“I’m sorry!” she cried as the black sphere swallowed him—and then itself right after.

“Sorry about what?” said someone beside her.

She just stood there, hands balled and shaking.

Dr. Cybrot shrugged, disdainfully unbothered. He raised his ridiculous, complicated goggles, to scratch his face underneath. His eyes glittered with mean amusement. He seemed content, for the moment, with her discomfort.

She broke off from him, going to a terminal.

Dr. Cybrot reached past her for a set of tongs on the table.

“I see you didn’t want me meeting him,” he said. “But I don’t know what you thought I’d do.”

He sauntered over to where bullets were lodged in the wall. His goggles whirred with faint mechanical sounds as lenses in them refocused. He extracted one bullet, then the other. They dinged as he dropped them in a metal dish on the worktable.

“Is that enough flagrantium?” she said, not looking up from the terminal screen.

“We’ll see,” he said. “These are the first samples of Flagrantia’s alloys. You got your own specimen, I expect?”

She held up the tray with the amputated member.

“That’s all?” he complained.
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She set it down with a hostile clang.

“You should have harvested the whole creature. You’d have a complete specimen.”

“I know you feel that way,” she said in a constrained voice.

“You could have caught it while it’s juvenile and weak. But you threw it back.”

“It ran off,” she muttered.

“Same thing,” he said. “You lost it.”

“We don’t need the entire creature,” she argued, doggedly. “It’s entirely composed of stem cells…”

“So you think.”

“…or analogous units. Any size sample should express its whole biology.”

Should—should,” he echoed facetiously. “If your hypothesis is right. You haven’t proven any of it.”

She snatched the tray defensively and walked it to a station where gimbaled instruments loomed over a square table.

“I have the only sample of this species ever obtained,” she said, “which now I need to analyze.”

She positioned the leg on the grid-lined surface, like a colourless  chessboard.

“You could at least be happy about it,” he said.

A smile accordioned across his face.

She didn’t like him much better when he smiled. It actually made him worse.

“We seized an opportunity,” he continued. “And we succeeded. Enjoy it.”

She positioned a wide magnifier over the specimen. She gazed at it forlornly.

“Don’t let it get to you,” he cajoled, in an oily effort to reassure. “Small cruelties come with the work. We learn to adapt.”

He gestured where the portal once was.

“Even that—boy has to. Who knows? He might even make it.” The grin widened. “But he doesn’t seem that bright, does he?”

She faced him, glowering, for two defiant heartbeats, before returning to her specimen.

She reached for more instruments, ignoring him sullenly. A tense eternity later, he left.

As the shutting door’s echo died down, she slunk over to her terminal. There she cycled through close and far views of locations ranging from maddening to mundane. She finally settled on one captioned, “ZB-1”.

An alien city’s skyline loomed over him. He lay strapped to the ground with many, many slim, dark cables, that same idiot look on his face.

(Next: I, Kaiju)

(Previous: Girl Zero)

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