Wackeen
Wackeen reached out again and was disconcerted by what it found. The
intelligence within the ship it pursued was gone. Perhaps at this range it
was just difficult to detect but that was unlikely. Wackeen had sensed it
only moments ago and now was closer. To make sure, it cut power to
the shields, hoping that perhaps it would give a better chance to sense
again. Nothing. In a panic not to lose the knowledge of this new
technology It increased speed and focused its mind on the survey ship.
Perhaps something could be gleaned from the freshly dead mind. Yet
there was nothing.
The gap between the two ships began to close faster. Although the front
ship was still just a speck on the view screen, it grew bigger by the
second. Wackeen began to sense something strange, but familiar. It
took a few seconds before it recognized what it was. That strange
shadow of a thought that was detected back on that rock. Something
fleeting and elusive, a mist of a thought that couldn’t be read, like a
movement in the corner of the mind’s eye that wasn’t visible when
looked at directly. Strange, very strange. Could it be possible that the
Olan had technology to hide their thoughts now? That would put the
Dawlgs at a disadvantage when dealing with them. If this was the case it
must be discovered.
Gouln
Gouln was in a coma like state. Even so, his body rose back up on his
forearms and knees. Another agent was in control now, a strange alien
presence that moved the muscles and membranes like instruments of a
machine. That alien had felt the probing mind of the Dawlg, had sensed
the evil intentions of the pursuer. Using the Olan’s mind and body, the
alien mind acted in its own defense. Targeting was precise, and when it
was executed, the little speck in space behind slowed and fell behind
further.
Wackeen
Wackeen howled with rage and confusion. What had just happened?
They had been attacked by a dead man? No, impossible. It was that
other thing. Something beyond its experience was involved. Yes. If the
Olan had been responsible, this ship would have been destroyed. It
checked the damage sensors and it was clearly a shot meant to disable.
Damage was minimal; the propulsion unit had been hit by the weapon
aboard the miner ship. It was such a shot that it was either incredible
luck that it had hit just so and not destroy the entire ship, or it had been
very skillful and accurate. Even an Olan of great experience would not
have been able to do that at this distance. No. something else was at
work and it was going to find out what. The ship could be repaired.
Thursday, August 14, 1986, 9;32am
Bob’s House
There was a high pitched tone that pierced the darkness and continued
as my mind ascended to consciousness. As I opened my eyes I realized
even as the tone ended, that it was coming from my backside. I
pondered the impossible length of that fart, even as I raised my head
and let out a thunderous burp. What a way to start the day, I thought.
With that thought, I sat up in my bed and looked at my alarm clock. It
told me that it was 9:32am. This led me to think back to my last clear
thoughts. I was just leaving that restaurant. Just before that I had been
in the restroom. I remembered that horrible experience, the smell, and
the fear that I had something bad wrong with me. I was going to go to
the emergency room, but then decided, very calmly, that it was ok if I
didn't live through it.
Well, looks like I did live through it. I struggled to remember what had
happened after that. Everything seemed completely muddled. I had
bought some groceries, I think. This seemed a strange thing for a man
to do that thought he was dying. I had spent all the money I had left. I
remember that distinctly. What did I need money for, I was going to
die? Weird.
My thoughts swirled as my eyes began to focus. I found myself gazing at
my toes that peeked at me from the end of the bed. Something startling
about the exposed and naked toes. Something unfamiliar. What was it?
Why did these toes that were obviously attached to my feet so
unfamiliar? I sat and stared uncomprehending for what seemed like a
multitude of seconds. Something in my mind blocked the recognition of
what was different now about those little digits. Tick, tick, tick, I sat
looking at those strange toes. Those toes could not be my toes I thought
to myself. Then I realized why. They were perfect, clear, unstained by
the fungus that I was accustomed to when I looked at my toes. Where
did these new toes come from I pondered, but then the thought faded
and I forgot about it.
I got up and entered the toilet and was assaulted by that smell again. I
recognized it immediately; I would never forget the smell from the
ordeal in that restaurant toilet. Even though the smell here was fainter,
it still turned my stomach. I reached for the room deodorant and
sprayed the little room for several seconds. I turned on the fan and
closed the door. I could hold it for a few minutes.
Meanwhile, I entered the kitchen. I'm by no means a neat housekeeper,
but what I saw there was a shock to me. There were several empty
plastic gallon jugs scattered around on the counters. There seemed to
be an equal amount of water and milk jugs. Whole milk at that. I never
drink whole milk. There were two egg cartons, open and full of empty
broken shells. There were banana peels, orange peels, browned and
mushy apple cores, plastic bags with the word apples on it. There were
various vegetables bits, green beans, broccoli, and corn. There was a
large, one pound jar of creamy peanut butter, open and scraped clean.
Two empty wrappers from loaves of bread. Two empty wrappers from
bologna packages, along with dozens of the little red wrappers from the
slices themselves. An empty jar of mustard.
I stood there surveying the mess and wondering just who could have
invaded my trailer and eaten all this food. As I pondered this, I was
thinking, just vaguely, that I remembered eating it all. I rejected that
thought outright. No way could I have eaten this amount of food by
myself in one night. Even as I had this thought, I looked down on the
floor and found a bag of what used to be five pounds of potatoes. I
lifted it up and peered inside. Three small spuds were all that was left.
Five pounds of potatoes? No way had I eaten five pounds of potatoes.
Something weird was going on here. Had been going on since yesterday
morning at the pizza joint. I remembered the giant, and the strange
sensation I had had of being watched and followed. Then I remembered
the vision. Could that have really happened? Had someone or
something put something in my mouth that had caused all this
strangeness? The inexplicable hunger, the rancid fecal nightmare that
was released from my own body? And now this? I felt a deep despair
come over me. What was going on? It was all that I could think as I
surveyed the kitchen. Something beyond my control was screwing with
my life. Was this the judgment of God? Was he really that pissed at me?
Or was this a satanic attack on my mind brought on by my own
disobedience?
My bladder reminded me that it hadn't been emptied yet this morning.
I was almost relieved to have the distraction from the kitchen and the
implications it presented. I walked back through the short hall to the
bathroom door and opened it. As I walked in and came into the view of
the mirror across from the toilet, glanced casually at it, and then did a
quick double take and let out a startled cry, nearly falling over onto the
toilet. There was a stranger in the mirror.
After the initial shock, I was filled with wonder. That stranger was me,
but a very much younger, better looking me than I had looked at the
last time I had looked in this mirror. I hadn't looked like that for twenty
years. No way. This had to be some drug induced dream.
My face was absent of all the wrinkles. I should be glad about it, but I
was too unbelieving to be. What was more incredible was the hair that
had started to grow where none had been for decades. It was just as
thick as the stubble on my face. That was a shock also. I had never had
so much grow back in one night. That's when it hit me. I wasn't sure just
what day it was.
I turned from my mirror and the wonder that was there because in a
panic, I began to think of my accounts that were due today. Only, I
wasn't so sure now what today was. Perhaps I had traveled back in time
and there were no accounts at all. The problem was, how do I check the
date?
I stopped wearing watches years ago because I would break them in just
a matter of days. It got expensive because in my line of work, you had
to get a very water proof watch. I couldn't look at a calendar to decide
what day it was. I could turn on the television and hope some news
show came on. Then I remembered that my cordless phone had a little
digital display that included the date. I ran back to the kitchen and
picked up the phone. August 14? Holy diaper dump, I had been out for
three days. Three and a half days.
I went into the living room and sat down heavily on the couch. This was
all too much. How could it be that I had come home in a daze on
Monday afternoon, and am just now waking up on Thursday morning?
What explained all this? Fear and despair and a sense of helplessness
and uncertainty overwhelmed me. Most of all though, a deep, aching
loneliness. I was totally alone in the world and now, no one was there to
help me figure this out. No one was there to comfort me with a logical
explanation. I was so disturbed I couldn't even try to explain it to myself.
I was distracted out of my destitute musings by an urgent need to pee.
Now, there was no putting it off. In fact, I had to run to the bathroom to
relieve myself. One of those extra-long, early morning bladder drains.
As I stood there over the pot, I stared blankly at the paneling that
covered the wall and went through the facts in my mind looking for an
answer. No answer would come. Nothing made sense. All logic had
deserted my life completely now. As my draining went on, and on, and
on, I became more and more despondent. By the time I was done and
had pushed the lever, the only thing I wanted to do is lie down in bed
and curl up in a little ball. I was of the intention to do just that. I turned
around and faced the mirror again. The shock of seeing this younger
version of me hit me all over again. It seemed so surreal. My emotions
jumbled more. For the first time that morning, I noticed that I was so
much slimmer. In fact, the tub of lard I had hauled around for so many
years I had become almost unaware of it was completely gone.
I took a step toward the mirror. That's all the room could afford me, I
was at the bathroom sink, looking at myself in the mirror, in complete
disbelief. There was no fat. Zero. I thought of the mess in the kitchen
and shook my head. How could I eat all that food? But then, it had been
three days. So I had eaten myself into a coma, and lain there for, what?
Two days? Not eating anything else. In a stupor, unable to do anything
but get up and unleash my fecal fury and then stumble back to bed
again? Could that possibly be? But, what about my blood sugar levels? I
thought of pulling the old blood sugar checker out and checking it, but
then I just stood and did a little self-analyses. How do I feel right now,
physically? Then I realized, I felt fine. In fact, I felt very good. I had never
felt better. My mouth dropped open and stared at myself in the mirror
and for the first time since I had woke up I thought to myself, “What am
I complaining about?” I feel better than I remembered feeling, ever in
my life. I look better than I have in probably twenty years. A big smile
formed on my face. I could use a shave I thought to myself but other
than that, I'm looking pretty good for fifty.
I started to laugh out loud. At the thought of how I looked, I realized I
didn't have my glasses on. I could see just fine, no blurriness. I laughed
louder. I didn't know what had happened, but it wasn't bad, it was
good. I began to realize that the pains and stiffness I had grown
accustom to, were gone. Was this a miracle? Was God doing this? I dare
not believe it, but nothing else could explain it. It had to be a miracle.
Out of habit of the years of my morning rituals, I reached into my
mouth to pull my teeth out. As my fingers touched the inside of my
mouth, they were met with an unfamiliar environment. It was not hard
plastic they found but soft wet tissue. Still it didn’t register until I
tugged on my teeth and found them solidly in place. I withdrew my
hand and opened my mouth wide to look at my teeth in the mirror.
When I had gotten my false teeth, the dentist had made them an off
white color to match my other teeth better. The teeth I looked at now
were brilliant white. All the teeth were brilliant white. They were real
teeth, attached to real gums.
Of all the things that had apparently happened to me over the last
three days, this stunned me the most. I didn’t know what to think about
it. I couldn’t seem to think at all for several seconds. I just stood there
looking at my teeth that I had now rested on top of my lower lip, leaving
me looking like I had developed an extreme overbite.
Suddenly and unbidden, the memory of the vision I had had in that
restaurant came back to me again. In the vision a dualistic me spit out a
strange substance, while the me sitting in the van had received it
directly in the mouth. For a split second, my elation turned to absolute
terror. Something very strange had happened to me. The reality of it hit
me like a wall as I went over all the changes in my physical appearance
in my mind. A sense of panic welled up in my chest and I felt the room
begin to swirl. Everything nearly went black. Then the switch was
flipped again.
Now, a wave of calm rushed over me. I should be so happy about my
teeth right now, I thought. Why worry about some stupid vision or
whatever? I had been in some kind of weird fog back then. It may have
been some kind of chemical imbalance that had corrected itself that
had caused some disorientation. That was most likely the case.
Something that was going on inside my body had made me experience
strange things. I thought about the giant and how bizarre that had been
and wondered if I hadn't just imagined him. It made sense. And the
sudden burst of energy I had experienced and the speed at which I had
done the windows. The adrenaline rush. The feelings of euphoria. Of
course. Something had happened perhaps then that had kicked it all off.
Somehow my body had gone into a hyper drive healing mode. I laughed
again. This was better than winning the lotto.
With a totally new perspective, I shaved that three day stubble off my
handsome young face. I didn't realize I used to look this good. And the
hair growing back on my bald pate was like seeing an old friend again. I
thought that maybe I'm dreaming all this. If I am, nobody wake me up.
After my shave, I decided a shower was in order. I had not enjoyed
taking a shower for so many years. Now, without the soreness, the
pains, the tired feeling, I could once again have that invigorating feeling
you get after having taken a shower. Wow that felt good.
After I got dried off, I was faced with a new problem. My clothes were
all too big now. I was happy about it, but not so happy that I didn't have
anything to wear that fit me now. I was going to look pretty goofy in
those clothes. But, I couldn't just go naked. So I went to a drawer in the
kitchen and pulled out the old ice pick, and made a new hole in my belt.
The gap between the old hole and the new was amazing. Then I went
looking for that one pair of pants I put in my bottom draw so long ago
because it had gotten too tight on me. When I pulled it on now, it was
way too big. Smallest waist size pants I had so it would have to do. I put
them on and cinched up the belt all the way, frowning at the way the
pants bunched up like an old set of drapes around my waist.
All of my work shirts were like a tent on me. Then I remembered an old
blue T-shirt I had that I kept for when my pillow case got too grungy for
even me to be able to stand it anymore. I would put that T-shirt on my
pillow until I could get my pillow case cleaned. It was way too tight on
me back then, but now it was just a little big. I decided not to tuck it in
but to cover my pleated pants.
Looking at myself in the mirror, I decided the fact that I looked younger
and slimmer totally balanced the fact that my clothes made me look like
a homeless hobo. I would have to go to work and get some money so I
could buy myself a few articles of clothing later in the day.
At that thought, I remembered that I was now more than three days
behind on my accounts. Well, maybe the new improved me could work
faster and longer than the older, more tired, fat and slow me. Surly I
could. Perhaps I could make up the lost days in two and take a nice
weekend off.
As I opened the door the August heat blasted me. This kind of thing
used to knock all the energy out of me first thing in the morning and
leave me listless all day long. Not today. The heat from that blast
actually felt good to me. I laughed out loud. Good thing no one lives
nearby to see my strange behavior.
Even the act of preparing my water buckets was no longer drudgery. It
was something to experience in my new body, a thing to compare how
it felt now as opposed to how it used to feel. My back aches were gone
and I could lift the five gallon buckets full of water into my van with
ease. For the first time in I couldn't remember how long, I was actually
looking forward to work. I started to wonder how my customers would
react to me now. Well, that would be interesting as well.