It has come to our attention that perhaps some fewer of our audience than we had at first assumed were at all familiar with the eating habits of human beings. Thus, the significance of the final few moments of our most recent episode would have been lost.
To that end, an explanation:
The act of consuming nutrients is a highly socialistic ritual for this species, abandoned so infrequently as to be unheard of. Its particulars contain such detail and complexity, it would be impossible to describe them all within the few minutes we have available… if for no other reason than that it varies so much across geographic boundaries.
Chiefly among these, however, is a sort of pre-ritual that must be completed before eating can ever commence. This step is so involved, it can take months… or even years. Whole industries revolve around even the most minor of its subcomponents, and its masters command vast sums for their services.
Nonetheless, from our observations, the whole of this enterprise seems to revolve around making a person’s food as unrecognizable to its original form as is at all possible. Whether by touch, taste, sight, or smell, no human sensory organ may ever come close to recognizing the actual component for what it is. To do otherwise is a faux pas of such towering proportions, it can instantly bring one’s social standing to ruin!
With this in mind, let us watch as Subject #1 returns to her senses… and realizes what she has done.
*
Mark opened his eyes groggi—
*
Oh, for goodness sake! Did you not hear what I just said? Subject #1! You’ve got the wrong bloody camera.
…
Bugger continuity! What do you think the editors are for? We can come back to this later.
…
Well, yes, of course we’ll want to show—oh, bollocks. You’re right. That would be confusing. < sigh > Go ahead, then. I’ll just… be in my room… rewriting the entire introduction.
*
—roggily, uncertain where he was or what he had been doing. All he knew was that his entire upper torso hurt like a bastard any time he so much as twitched, he had a pounding headache, and his foot was curled into the most vicious cramp he had ever experienced. If he did not know any better, he would have guessed the previous evening had involved an epic bout of drinking followed by a bar fight. In which he lost.
Except of course, he never did any of those things. One, he could not afford it, but more importantly, neither could any of his friends. Anime collectibles were not cheap.
Worse, wherever this was, it was extremely confining, so he was having a devil of a time repositioning his leg. And was he wearing a ventilator mask?
Right about then, something blipped, and lines of text began to stream along a curved dome just in front of his face, shedding some small amount of light into the room. Or pod, more specifically. Because that was where he was, he suddenly realized. Which was confusing to say the least.
But then, the last few hours of his conscious experience had involved quite a lot of that.
Nor did the text help clear things up. Much like the last time he had seen them, the symbols on display had little to nothing to do with human language, and even if they had, it was all moving too fast to make sense of. However, after a few moments, the screen flickered again to be replaced by a fairly intricate diagram of a human body. Several parts were labeled—again unintelligibly—but by and large, most of them were pointing out different sections of the digestive tract.
That only brought to mind the fading memory of salted peanuts. And soda. He felt a minor constriction in his chest at the thought. It had been a while since his last dose. It was an addiction, he knew, but the recognition did not make it any easier.
He worked his dried out tongue for a moment and started to massage his temples, but the second he moved, he noticed how… eagerly the different labels seemed to react to the proximity of his hand. Almost as if they were fighting for the right to be first touched.
“Ewwwkay…?” he sounded into the mask.
Whatever this garbage-tier interface was designed to do, helpful it was not. Never mind the language barrier, the actual design aesthetic sort of reminded him of one of those websites that had been so over-engineered for user-friendliness, it ended up achieving the exact opposite… usually because of corporate interference. All it was missing were the pervasive ads.
At first blush, he assumed this to be some sort of diagnostic screen. What with the ventilator, it made sense something like his alien pod would have medical technology installed… and now that he was thinking about it, he could detect no signs of his earlier embarrassment. So, it must have had a way to clean itself. Regardless, the labels on screen did not quite line up with where he was hurting. Whether that was a good thing or not was as yet unknown.
“Shit. Marlboros!”
He started to sit up as the memory of his co-abductee and his idiotic attempt to protect her flooded his mind, but then his entire right-hand side seized. He would not be going anywhere for a hot minute. That did not lessen his anxiety, but it did alter his priorities.
“Is she okay? Why can’t I see anything?” he wondered aloud. The screen had been transparent before. Was it nighttime? If so, where were the stars?
The screen did not respond save to have its labels stretch all the more zealously toward his hand.
Mark grimaced. It seemed he was going to have to figure out how to close the diagnostic program before he could see out again, but it did not seem to work in any way he was familiar with. There was no convenient red X off in the corner, and if the option had been hidden in a pull-down menu, he could not have read it anyway. As for the program itself, his best guess was that it was reporting on his own condition.
“Maybe it’ll close on its own after I review everything?” He nodded with growing confidence. A lot of administrative programs worked that way, particularly when there was legalese involved. “Okay, then. Why don’t we start with… you?”
There was next to nothing to distinguish his choice from any of the others. All he knew was that the end of its arrow was pointing toward something in his upper intestines. However, it seemed to be winning out over the rest, so it was probably the most important.
But nothing replaced his selection. There was simply a flash… and then he blacked out.
*****
Naomi’s stomach clenched painfully. It was not the first nor would it be the last, but it was at times like these she really regretted the loss of her purse. Her antacids had been in there.
After the euphoria had worn off and she realized what she had done, there had been little else for it but to wallow in self-recrimination. Never mind what she had just eaten… or how she had gone about it, she had been so full, a passing breeze would have been enough to undo all her efforts. However, rather than letting her slip into the digestive coma she so desperately needed, it was at that point the computer started pestering her about her unfinished task and, as she literally could not shut it out, she had no choice but to comply just to shut it up.
And surprisingly, she had succeeded. The cartoonish gorilla press it had presented her with had been completely off the table, but still, she had gotten Tubby into his prescribed sterile environment. That was worth a solid pat on the back.
After that, she had decided it was high time she find her own pod, let the tranquilizers do their work, and sleep off her meal.
However, she had been awakened by a sharp, stabbing pain a short while ago and spent the last several minutes twisting while her intestines squelched like a plunger was working at them. Which would have been nice, quite frankly. She felt like she had swallowed a bowl of concrete. But then, her stomach gave a final, relieved gurgle… and she came to the sudden realization that nature had come to call.
Eyes wide, she thumped the glass of her pod. “Open up!”
It took a moment to respond, like it was grumpy at having been disturbed but, after a few seconds, her ears were met with the hiss of depressurization. She did not wait for gravity to open the door.
< The camera pans to the sky while a bombastic overture plays >
As she emerged from behind the pod, she paused to take stock. It was daytime once more which meant the oppressive silence and heat had returned with a vengeance… though the latter was not bothering her quite as much as it had the previous day. She was probably getting used to it.
But was it the next day? The… ‘carcass’ was almost completely gone, she noted. It would have been hard to see anyway what with the moss, but there was no sign of blood. Nor even a hint of flesh. The only evidence anything had happened at all were the few bones scattered about.
She swallowed uncomfortably. She had eaten a lot, but there was no way she had been that thorough. Even the fur was missing!
“Right… the bats.”
Sighing with relief, she eyed the canopy above, but there was no sign of them now. One of these days, she was going to get hold of one of the bastards, and there would be a reckoning. Oh, yes.
In the meantime, she needed to check the poultices. Her own was pretty dried out, giving credence to the idea that several days had passed. But when she started probing at the flesh along her back, her fingers did not meet any stitches. Nor even scabbing.
“Holy hell…” she breathed.
As quick as she could, she started unwrapping the dessicated leaf and tossed it aside. She was healed. Completely healed. She was not even sure there was scare tissue!
Never mind an off-site medical team, even the finest doctors in the world would have taken a month or more to bring her to this state, and that was assuming she had been in an induced coma. Which might have been plausible, given her previous assumptions, but she was walking around like nothing had happened. It normally took at least as long again just relearning to walk after something like that.
She knew. After that tree had fallen on her papa back in the fourth grade, they had been afraid he would never wake up, but he had fortunately snapped out of it after a couple of weeks. She could still vividly remember the long hours fooling around in the waiting room during his PT sessions.
Meanwhile, here she was, stronger than ever. She even had abs! She had never had abs!
“Did they… exercise me?”
She snorted, dismissing the notion as quickly as it came. If that sort of service were possible, the wealthy elites would have been all over it. The same if it had been the result of drugs. More so, even. But if it were the result of something new… and experimental…?
She ran her fingers along the faint ridges of her abdomen thoughtfully. “Then… why let me go again? Wouldn’t they want to show me off?”
The only thing she could figure was that there might have been some unknown side-effects, and they wanted to continue the experiment for observational purposes. But if that were the case, this seemed like a profoundly stupid way of going about it. There were too many uncontrolled variables in the scenario for a scheme so basic as that.
“Maybe… maybe I’m not stronger?” she hazarded finally. “Maybe I just lost weight?”
There was a sensible thought—even if there was a small part of her that could admit she did not exactly have a lot of weight to lose—and she almost sighed with relief. But then, her eyes landed on the rust-spattered rock from the night before.
Hesitant at first, but with growing determination, she marched forward. Guesses and theories were one thing, but she would never know for sure without a basis for comparison. It had been all she could do to lift that stone before, and that while under the influence of a heady mixture of fear and adrenaline. This would be a perfect test.
Her jaw worked from side to side for a moment as she psyched herself up, then she bent at the waist and pulled. The weight of it yanked at her shoulders instantly, but it came free of the ground just the same. It felt… heavy, massive in a way that seemed unintuitive in something so small. However, once she had straightened, she realized she could go farther.
So she did. Her biceps strained as the stone came even with her chest, but she was not done yet. Higher it went. Past her shoulders. Past her head. Still higher.
Inevitably, she could only come to the conclusion that something profound had been done to her. Before this day, she would have struggled even to lift a bag of concrete. She had been known for it. She had been teased so frequently for being weak, her parents had even gotten her a personalized wheelbarrow over the last summer. It had been half in jest, but she had legitimately needed the thing just to pull her own weight. And now, here she was, holding a sixty-plus pound rock overhead like it was nothing!
Whatever this was, she was out of her element. This was the kind of thing they talked about over on the Illuminati pages, but she had always avoided them. Those guys were lunatics.
Or so she had thought…
It was about then that the other pod popped open, and Mike’s wan face appeared, blinking owlishly.
“Ugh…” he groaned with relief as the face mask came away. “What time is it? Hell, what year is it? I feel like I’ve been stuffed with moth balls and put away with the Christmas lights.”
Naomi eyed him warily, not immediately responding. If she had been experimented on, it was almost certain he had as well. But to what end? Her natural, feminine caution around men was screaming at her to be on the lookout for any sign of increased aggression and, at a bare minimum, to keep her distance.
“It’s day time,” she said finally. And bluntly. He could figure out the rest.
He chuckled. “Yeah, I guess so…” Then his eyes focused on her, and a curious look passed over his face. “You uh… lifting weights or something?”
“Huh?” Suddenly realizing she still had the rock overhead, she pulled it down over her abdomen like a medicine ball and performed a couple of hasty squats… which were way too easy given the load. “Oh… yeah. You gotta keep in shape, you know.”
He nodded slowly. “That why you ditched the tank top?”
She froze in an effort to fight back the flush crawling up her neck. Now that he mentioned it, she had no idea where her top even was. It had gone missing somewhere during the tumult of the previous evening and, as the only conscious person around, she had forgotten. It was only by the sheerest stroke of luck that she was not big enough to need more than a sports bra and, as they were much more comfortable anyway, she tended to default toward them just as a matter of course.
But she was not about to reveal just how exposed his comment had made her feel.
“It had blood all over it,” she said off-hand, though she was still clutching the rock protectively in front of herself… despite the burn starting to accumulate in her arms. “And it was all ripped up in back anyway. So I got rid of it.”
“Are you sure that was a good idea?” Mike replied. Frowning, he began to cautiously extract himself from his pod and all-but-silently thumped to the moss below. “I mean this is a survival situ—or no… no that’s…” He paused to scrub at his hair awkwardly. “I should be asking if you’re alright. I—I mean that was crazy! I’m… I’m not even sure what happened last night.”
Again, Naomi was not quick to respond, and when she did, it was not to reassure him. Her eyes had gone wide at the sight of what his unconscious gesture had revealed. In order to treat him, she had torn a huge rent through his shirt, leaving it to hang off him like a tunic. So, it was quite obvious.
“Mike,” she breathed, “you’ve lost like forty pounds!”
An irritated look overcame his features, but when her words registered, he could not help but to glance down at himself. Of course, it was only then that he noticed the poultice and began to pick the crumbling leaves and moss away, revealing the smooth—if brightly pink—skin beneath. It was still obvious he had run afoul of something, but much like herself, he seemed months on the mend. However, he looked more confused than amazed.
“How can you tell?” he replied with a doubtful thump at his gut.
She stared. How could he be that oblivious? Clearly, whatever experiments had been performed, they had done nothing for the guy’s intelligence. The last time she had seen him, he had been on the verge of outright obesity, his every breath so labored as to be audible. Now… well, he was not exactly fit or anything. More in ‘dad-bod’ territory. But there was a huge difference!
Actually, with the way the cloth was dangling off him…
Without realizing what she was even doing, she started to angle her hips ever so slightly… then quickly straightened again and tossed the rock aside. She was not about to allow such intrusive thoughts… especially about him. And to distract herself, she started in on her theories regarding their situation.
Mike looked from the rock to her doubtfully. “Sixty pounds isn’t that heavy, though.”
“Not to you! I’m a girl.”
“Lots of girls can lift sixty pounds. The women’s bench record is ten times that much.”
She scoffed with exasperation. “Do I look like one of those women? And anyway, how would you know?”
That brought him up short, and he averted his eyes. “I like to watch sports sometimes.”
“Sports?” She looked him up and down doubtfully.
“Some sports,” he clarified.
She favored him with a knowing look. “Pervert.”
“Yeah, well. I’m a guy, so…” He shrugged as if that was explanation enough and hastily changed the subject. “Is there any of that fruit left? I’m starving.”
She sighed. Admittedly, most of her conclusions were on shaky ground, but the observations were indisputable. If only there were some before-and-after photos so she could show him the difference a night’s sleep had made. Or however long it had been.
“Help yourself.” She gestured toward what was left of the stalk. Most of it was completely barren—picked clean by the night scavengers—but there were a few pods left toward the bottom. They had a gnarled, blue tint to them, like they might be close to spoilage.
Unsuspecting, Mike hastened forward and plucked one so as to examine it more closely. After taking a deep whiff, he exclaimed, “Man, these smell incredible. Have you tried one yet?”
“Yep.” She did not elaborate. If he did not want to listen to her, she would let him find out the hard way. And she would enjoy it.
Giving it another ecstatic sniff, he brought the apple-sized fruit to his lips and took a huge bite. She started to cringe in anticipation of his reaction, but to her surprise, he started to chuckle.
“Wow! These things are pretty tangy.”
“Tangy?”
He nodded. “Sweet, though. We should grab what’s left before we move on.”
“Sweet?! Are you nuts?”
He looked at her in surprise. “What? You didn’t think so?”
She started to sputter, then snatched the fruit from his hand.
“Hey! Get your own.”
She ignored him. There was no way a few days could have changed the flavor profile so dramatically. But when she took a cautious nibble, she discovered he was right. It tasted fine. Tart but sweet… and kind of mushy.
“I guess they weren’t ripe yet?” she mused distantly, then blinked.
Her computer had just flared to life. It had not been for long, nor had it communicated much of anything useful. However she was sure she had just seen a bar flash over Mike’s head, fill ever so slightly, then vanish.
Suspicious now, she watched as he grabbed another fruit and began wolfing it down. It was not after every bite, but sure enough, the bar would return periodically to fill by small increments until he polished off his meal with it at about a quarter done.
“Mike—” she began.
“It’s Mark,” he corrected, scowling even as he reached for another.
She shook her head, distracted. “You said it was Mike.”
He just looked at her. “Why would I tell you the wrong name?”
“You tell me!” she challenged. “And anyway, I like Mike much better.”
His jaw worked for a second. “But… but that’s…”
“Whatever! Watch me for a second.”
Staring aggressively at him, she then tore off a large chunk from the fleshy pod in her hand and swallowed it down. There was a beat of silence.
“Well?!”
“That was… impressive?” he tried.
“You didn’t see anything?”
“I saw that you didn’t stop to chew,” he returned. “Do you not have a gag reflex?”
“No, what? I—” She paused as the implication registered but chose to hide her flush by shoving the rest of the fruit into her mouth. “How ‘bout now?”
He shrugged uncertainly. “What am I supposed to be seeing?”
“Damn.” Twirling her hair in frustration, she began to pace while filling him in on the details of her bizarre computer interface. Concluding with: “They must be doing something different with you than they are me.”
“Maybe,” he allowed after a moment in contemplation. “Actually, from what you’re describing, that sounds super convenient. The only computer I’ve been seeing is the one in the pod, but I can’t make heads or tales of it.”
“It’s not as cool as it sounds. It likes to make fun of me,” she muttered… then frowned as something he had said struck her. “Wait. ‘Been seeing?’ As in more than once?”
Nodding, he described the diagnostic program he had encountered.
*
Now, see? See? I don’t know why I ever listened to you. We could have inserted that entire sequence right here as a flashback! That would have served the narrative much better. This is what the art of editing is all about!
…
Of course, I’m upset. Who wouldn’t get upset after writing a second and completely unnecessary introduction monologue? Amateurs! I am surrounded by amateurs!
…?
Oh, sod off!
*
“—and then… I guess I must have passed out. By the time I woke up again, it was gone, and I could see through the glass just fine.”
Naomi scratched at her abdomen, trying to find the connection. If she had a time frame to go off of, things would have been much clearer, but it seemed too much of a coincidence that he would encounter something like that right as she was dealing with the worst case of indigestion she had ever experienced… and the ensuing unpleasantness. Especially coupled with some of their other incidents. But she had no plans to share any of that with him. For a multitude of reasons.
“You know…” Mike began before she could finish formulating her thoughts. “This whole thing kind of reminds me of some kind of… really complex fitness app.”
She blinked. “What?”
“No, think about it.” He started listing on his fingers. “I got some kind of echolocation feature that lead us to food. You got instructions on how to treat wounds. You’re getting updates as I eat, and I’m betting some of the things we’ve seen have been notices that we swallowed something that didn’t agree with us. It’s tracking our survival stats!”
Naomi nodded along, not totally convinced. “That doesn’t explain your weight loss. Or why I’m so much stronger now.”
“Did that really happen though?” he returned. “My pants aren’t exactly falling around my ankles.”
Her nails began to dig into the flesh of her palms. One of these days, she was going to strangle this man.
“You have an elastic waistband.”
He just grunted, brushing it off. “Look, why don’t we run an experiment? Right now, the number one thing we need is something to drink. Ask your computer if it can teach us how to start a fire. Maybe then, we can boil some of the salt out of the ocean water.”
“Boil… the salt… out of ocean water?”
She took a deep breath. It was all she could do not to launch into a detailed and colorful explanation of just how close he had brought her to a brain aneurysm. Never mind how they were supposed to start a fire, how would they even collect the water? In a leaf? And even if they could get some water boiling, how would they then collect the steam? Because if he thought the salt was going to evaporate, he had another thing coming.
But setting all of that side, she had a pretty good idea as to how this would go down. The computer had thus far ignored all her questions unless she was seeking to clarify its instructions, and she could see no reason that should change now. But nothing ventured…
Thumping her wrist a few times to wake it up, she barked, “Hey, you! Make with the fire. Let’s go!”
Nothing happened, of course. Which she exasperatedly relayed.
“Maybe if you weren’t so rude to it?”
“Maybe if it wasn’t such a bitch,” she returned instantly. “Besides, you were the one with the echolocation, remember?”
“So?”
“So ask it where to find fresh water, ya putz!”
“Oh. I guess that would be easier, wouldn’t it,” he admitted, chuckling. Then he gently tapped at his ears. “Um… hello? We’d like to find some water, please?” He paused. “Fresh water? A stream? Maybe a river? Any kind of running water?”
There was a moment of expectant silence.
“Nothing?” Naomi guessed.
His slump of disappointment was answer enough.
“I guess we can cross that idea off the list,” she said, trying to keep the smugness off her face. “I mean, how would a computer in your head know where to find water anyway?”
He could only shrug. “I dunno. Downloaded from the pods maybe? They might have some kind of survey data we don’t know about from when they were flying around.”
“I guess.” She sighed and began collecting what was left of the fruit. There were only six left after their little snack, and with the way he had been powering through them, she had a feeling they would not last long. One more and that bar over his head would be full. “It’s a shame, though. With how tart these are, I could use something to rinse it down.”
Mike jumped as though startled.
“What?” Naomi pressed after a moment. “Did you hear something?”
He nodded slowly. “Yeah. It was faint, but…” He pointed vaguely off into the forest. Farther inland along the island chain, if she remembered correctly.
Still, for him to be getting a signal now and not when they had specifically asked for it? What was the point of that? Narrowing her eyes, she struggled to recall the last time this had happened and what they had been talking about at the time. It had been a while, but…
“Mike…”
He groaned. “I told you, it’s Mark.”
“We agreed it was Mike.”
“You agreed it was Mike.”
“Exactly. Now, shut up.” She took a quick breath before he could interrupt her again. “Where do we find water?”
He stared at her like she had suddenly started speaking in tongues.
“I want water,” she tried again.
His started to open his mouth with an angry retort, but then a spark of intelligence finally flared in his eyes. He was catching on.
“I’m thirsty.”
He jumped again. Then groaned. “Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me.”
She clapped her hands in delight. “Ah, ha! We’re in business.”
“But why would it only work when you ask?”
“Because I’m the smart one,” she replied haughtily. “Now, lead on, Mr. Dowel Rod!”
He rolled his eyes. “Don’t you mean, dowsing rod?”
“Of course not. Don’t be silly.” She sighed. He would learn not to argue with her eventually. “Take of your shirt.”
“What?!”
“For the fruit.”
“Oh.” He hesitated. “Wait, why don’t we use your—?”
Her eyes flashed. “I told you, I got rid of it.”
“That doesn’t mean we can’t still use it.”
“Too late. It’s gone now,” she replied decisively. “Besides, yours is all ripped up. Off with it.”
He sighed, but he obeyed. “Are you always this pushy?”
“Only when I’m around idiots.” She snatched the shirt before he could formulate a retort and started bundling the fruit together. “Anyway, you’re a guy. What do you need with a shirt?”
“Do I look like I’m capable of tanning?” he wailed. “Just look at that sun! Thirty minutes out there, and I’ll be peeling for a week!”
She took a patient breath before slinging their minuscule food supply over a shoulder. “Thirty minutes and it won’t matter, the way you eat. Besides, we’ve got plenty of shade left.”
He grimaced, clearly still unhappy. “What about the pods?”
“Eh.” She gave them a quick look. They made for great shelter, but she was still a bit suspicious of them. If she had her way, she would have preferred to escape them entirely but was now certain that was not an option. “They’ll catch up eventually.”
“Huh?”
“Are you gonna stand there all day, or do I have to drag you? Now, mush! I’m thristy!”
He flinched. To her amusement.
*
… … …
What?
…?
Why should I? The episode is already a shambles. An outro isn’t going to help anything.
…! …?
That’s perfectly obvious. Did I not say it was a social ritual? There was no way she was going to admit to eating the entire animal without sharing. Far better to simply forget about the whole ordeal.
… …?
Why ask me? Did you not see the footage? You should be perfectly capable of working all of that out on your own.
…!!!
Yelling about it isn’t going to change anything.
Look, to find out for certain, we would need to recapture the subjects and initiate a hard link with their individual VENUS installations, anyway. All we can do from here is conjecture, and as far as I’ve seen, it’s operating well within acceptable parameters. There’s no need for concern.
…
< sigh > Alright, alright. You make a good point. It wouldn’t hurt to put together a quick summery in case some of our viewers missed them. I’ll put it together for the intro into the next episode.
Why don’t we call it…
Open Water?
Now, if you’ll excuse me. There’s a lot of work to do before this one is ready for air, and I can already feel a headache coming on.
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