CHAPTER FIVE
"Hey, you're back! Where have you been? I missed you!", Ripley exclaims smiling, seeing Call climbing inside the shelter. She wishes she were angry with her, for leaving her alone, in that state, for so long, but she just can't!
"Ripley, I was gone just five minutes!", the android points out, rolling her eyes in exasperation. But the woman seems to have forgotten about her already. Lying on her bedroll, she seems somewhat amused by the shadows of vegetation moving above the clear surface of the tent.
"Where have you been?", the woman asks once again, in an annoyed voice. She has a feeling she should know, but she just cannot remember. She doesn't feel like wracking her brain to find the answer, quicker to ask!
"I've been to the spot where you fell, Ripley. I found a dead golden frog, you probably crushed it with your weight when you hit the ground", the young woman explains in a patiently.
"Oh no! That poor thing!", the hybrid exclaims on the verge of tears. "Is that why I feel so weird?", she asks, straining to come back to reality.
"Probably", Call confirms, omitting the worst fate she seems to have escaped. Unfortunately, she has no idea how to counteract the effects of the lethal alkaloid her friend came in contact with. But in her personal research, she has learned something, regarding the culture of psychedelics for shamanic use, perhaps she can try to steer her towards a positive experience. Generally, if one is educated, it works well. All that's left is to watch over her until the unusual psychotropic effects will be completely gone, hoping that her faster-than-normal metabolism will help with this task, and that her conditions won't escalate any further.
"You seem to be experiencing a psychedelic episode, almost certainly brought on by contact with that frog"
"Are you telling me I'm high?", Ripley asks interrupting her. "Okay don't answer me, that's not necessary. I'm so fucking high!", she concludes snickering at the realization of her state of mind.
"Okay, Ripley, now listen to me. Whatever you may experience, just let go and you'll be fine. Don't get all worked up. Just surrender to what's going on", Call tells her, undecided whether to appease her or more herself.
"Oh, but I'm not freaking out at all! I mean, can I do anything about it? I guess not. I might as well enjoy the ride!", Ripley comments, surprised at her own foresight.
"Sounds like a good attitude!", the android comments, watching her closely. "Let me check your parameters", she says, gently taking her hand and feeling her pulse. Her blood pressure hasn't gone down, but it hasn't gone up either. Her temperature has gone up, as has her heart rate, and her oxygenation is still optimal, thank goodness.
Ripley opens her eyes and watches her for a long moment. She should care, about her parameters, but she doesn't. She prefers to concentrate on the colors around Call's figure, which pulsate softly, as if in rhythm with her breathing. When the girl realizes she's being watched and smiles placidly, the colored aura expands and the orange and purple end up flowing down her arm and then up her neck, tickling her skin pleasantly.
The clone smiles, reversing her grip and drawing the girl's arm to herself so she can better examine the still not perfectly healed cuts. Without bothering to ask permission, she traces the marks on her skin with the tip of her index finger. She can see the texture of the epidermis perfectly. Fuck, she can see the tiny nanorobots working its surface! She holds her breath and tenses her ears.
"I can hear the sound of your skin mending!", she exclaims in wonder. Then, as if she just ran a marathon, she lets herself fall back on her back, exhausted.
"I feel like I've been zero-g life, I've just fallen back to Earth and the gravity is unbearable. Moving, talking, even just breathing is taking a huge toll on me!", she says in a tired voice. "But on a mental level, fuck, Call! On a mental level I don't think I've ever been more lucid!", she states.
"Then don't talk. It's not necessary", the Auton reassures her. "This can be a very deep inner journey, Ripley. In a way, I envy you", she adds regretfully.
Being a scientist, Call is intrigued by her state and would like to ask her a thousand questions and listen to everything the clone has to share at this very moment. But she also knows how personal and intense such experiences, especially therapeutic ones, can be. She is not qualified to coach her through her trip, so that it will be as productive as possible and fears being an unnecessary distraction.
"Relax, Enjoy your journey. Tell me about it later, if you feel like it. If you need anything, anything at all, just ask. I'm here. I'll come by every now and then to check your vitals", she whispers watching her nod silently.
Ripley closes her eyes and leaves the outside world, retreating into herself. In front of her closed eyelids, wonderful colourful fractals expand endlessly, swallowing her deeper and deeper. The sounds of the jungle are distorted and animate the geometries that her brain presents to her.
Call lies down on her bed, unable to look away from the figure of her friend. She wishes she could control her state without having to reach out and touch her, and hopes that by watching her closely, she will be able to tell if something is wrong. She wants to bother her as little as possible.
*.*
"So you are supposed to be Number Eight"
"Who are you?", Ripley asks the vaguely anthropomorphic shape that glows in a dim, yellowish light in total darkness. She no longer feels the boundaries of her own body, it's as if her particles fill all that darkness. As if she herself were the darkness. A floating, vibrating darkness in every particle of her.
"Well, you can think of me as the spirit of the frog you killed", the figure replies in a soft voice. Ripley can't tell if it's a male or female voice. She also wonders if it matters at all, assigning her one gender over another.
"That was not intentional! I'm really sorry!", the clone says with meaning.
"I'm well aware of that, Eight", the entity reassures her.
"I'd prefer if you called me Ripley, if you don't mind", the woman declares, startled by the name the voice addresses her with.
"Whatever you wish, as long as you are aware that you are only Eight", the being condescendingly concedes.
"You think I'm not?", Ripley asks, realizing that being is nothing more than the deeper side of her consciousness. "Yeah... I know why you're here", she then declares, in a peaceful voice.
"Oh you have no idea why I'm here!", the entity replies, chuckling good-naturedly.
"Are you ready to die, Eight?", it challenges her shortly after, mutating into a black hole and beginning to suck her in roughly.
*.*
Watching her, the android becomes vaguely aware of the phases the woman is experiencing during her trip.
Shortly after isolating herself, she begins to fidget, sweating more profusely. She moans, she is breathless, the features of her face are contorted into a look of utter pain, tears wet her face, soaking the pillow beneath her head.
Call has to force herself to stay put on her side, when she just wants to reach out and assist her, but she knows she has to let this phase of the process pass, Ripley just has to surrender to what she is experiencing.
Time never seems to go by, not even when her friend calms down and her expression slowly changes to a more relaxed one.
The light is fading outside, the wind has picked up, and the tent is swaying merrily. It's going to be a heavy thunderstorm soon, and Call is pretty sure it will last the whole night.
Ripley lies supine, her breathing light and regular now, though she takes a couple of deeper breaths now and then. She keeps her hands clasped in her lap and her face is serene. Call can see her eyes move under her eyelids. Her status has been stable for over seven hours. The young woman wonders how much longer the hallucinogenic effect will last, trying to push away the worry of possible permanent damage.
*.*
"I've seen her before, that girl", the being questions.
Ripley opens her eyes, looking for Call. She catches sight of her on the other side of the curtain, her small shape lying on her stomach, her feet crossed, her back arched, she's resting on her elbows, reading. She has not noticed her, she smiles, and closes her eyes again.
"Yes, he was at my funeral"
"Who is she?"
"A friend, I think"
"You think?", the voice replies amused.
"Well, we hardly know each other, actually", Ripley explains. "It was my fault, I guess", she declares soon after.
"But you trust her"
"Blindly"
*.*
"Call?", talking is easier now. Good thing. She slowly lifts her eyelids, the tent is shrouded in half-light and she can hear the rustle of the young woman approaching, despite the rain outside noisily hitting the fabric of the shelter.
"I'm here", her soft voice is coupled with the light contact of a hand on her wrist. The android analyzes her condition, relieved to see that they are slowly returning to her normal levels, only her fever remains quite a bit higher.
She gasps as the inside of the tent is suddenly brightly lit, and shortly thereafter a violent crash rips through the ether. She feels her young companion squeezing her hand, as if to reassure her. It's just a thunderstorm, she thinks.
"I'm going back", Ripley says, watching her nod with a fond smile. Tears well up in her eyes, so overwhelmed is she by what she's experienced and is still experiencing, and she hopes that an ounce of it can stay with her for as long as she still has to live, whether it's an hour, a day, a year, a decade. And before she realizes her urge to hold her, Call surrounds her shoulders in a warm, reassuring hug.
Thanks to the documents she's studied during her years of research, she has a pretty good idea of what the clone needs right now. She feels her gasp in her arms and holds her a little tighter.
"That was intense, huh?", and the purity of love Ripley feels in that temporary bubble that is their hug, gives her the certainty that she was never alone in her trip, that Call was watching over her and waiting for the right moment to welcome her back in the best way possible.
"Still is", she replies in a trembling voice, clinging even more tightly to her.
"Thank you", she finally says, pulling away and smiling at her with a relaxed expression. "I felt your presence, the whole time. Even though I was in another dimension, ya know? I was fully aware that no matter what, I could count on you", she gently strokes her face, still reeling from the feeling of infinite love and serenity that the intoxication caused her.
"You look exhausted", Call says in a soft voice as she helps her lie back down on her own bed.
"I'm freezing", Ripley states, listening to the sound of her own teeth chattering together as she curls up on her side and shivers violently. She closes her eyes and clearly sees her companion moving next to her, the noises she makes animating her silhouette. The young woman fully opens the sleeping bag and settles it over her, tucking it under her body, like a caring mother.
"You've been sweating a lot, maybe you could try drinking some water, how about that?", her shape still pulses with colors as she speaks. A delicate hand wipes her forehead. She smiles and nods, surrendering without delay to her care. With her eyes still closed and the help of her friend, she sucks a few sips from the bottle of water. She curls up again, while other shivers shake her with overbearance.
From under her lowered eyelids, she watches Call reach her bedroll, grab her own sleeping bag and crawl back to her side. She sees her settling it on top of her, just like the previous one. Laying close, behind her, and surrounding her with a tiny arm. Yet it is as if that arm is way more large and covers her entirely.
"I can increase my own temperature if you feel it's not enough", the young woman says in a gently.
"That would be great, thank you", Ripley responds, suddenly realizing that she needs her closeness right now. For a few moments she's hesitant to put it into words, but shortly thereafter the entity pulls her away once again from reality.
"She looks like a really good friend", it comments.
"Yeah, she is. She's tough, you know? But she's also fun", Ripley relates. "Of course you know that"
"There is an entity, here with me. I think it's simply my consciousness. We're talking about you", she hadn't intended to say, until she did. She smiles, at the absurdity of it all, but doesn't regret it, that she did.
"O... kay?", the young woman comments, amused, but not surprised. "So I guess you're still tripping", she adds, as if to remind her that it's her trip.
"Not like earlier, but yes, it's not finished yet. I know you're curious, you're a scientist, after all!", Ripley retorts, unable to leave her out.
"Of course I am, but what you do with this chance is more important. I wish I had it too, a shot like this", the girl states gently. Her voice sends warm waves through her, enveloping her like one extra blanket, the warmest of all.
"And I would like you to have that. Maybe you'd be able to see yourself the way I see you, then", the clone comments with a serene smile, turning her attention back to the inside of herself.
It's hard not to retort to that statement. But she reminds herself of the important intent to step aside and forces herself into silence, obliging herself to focus on the scientific dilemma of that intoxication, just to distract herself.
Clearly, Ripley is experiencing an altered state of consciousness. She certainly seems to be under the influence of some hallucinogenic substance. LSD? Psilocybin? Mescaline? DMT?
At first she had thought that, somehow, her alien physiology had, in some way, modified the alkaloid in the poor golden frog's mucus, turning, who knows how, the batracotoxins into something less toxic, modifying neurotransmitters, rather than blocking or damaging her nerve signals.
Now instead, she is almost certain that the clone's peculiar body reacted to those toxins by releasing a substance that every human body produces on its own, at particular stages of life, among all, birth and death, namely dimethyltryptamine. DMT is the only substance with psychedelic properties that is produced by the pineal gland, Call points to that.
Dimethyltryptamine is a simple molecule! The batrachotoxin compound that the golden frog produces, however, is way too different! There is just no way her body could have morphed it so radically!
How, however, this overproduction of DMT worked as an antidote to the golden frog's deadly venom, remains a mystery! Perhaps the two are unrelated at this level. Perhaps her acidic blood neutralized the toxin as soon as it entered her bloodstream. So why such a high excess of DMT? As a reaction to the poison?
-Speculation, it's just speculation-, the young woman thinks, pushing away the spiral of thoughts in which she is caught. She closes her eyes, concentrating on the task of warming Ripley, letting herself be lulled by the roar of the rain that doesn't show any sign of diminishing, despite the fact that the real thunderstorm is quickly receding.