Disclaimer:I do not own District 9.
For days Wikus had barely moved. His eyes would flutter, perhaps in an attempt to open them. His subconscious reactions permeated the air regardless, a blanket of fear, building within the shack and affecting its inhabitants.
It was dark when he finally came to, startled by a sharp, external jerk from his arm. His eyes, with some difficulty, met with his care taker. The prawn stopped, still, as it observed the hybrid's gaze. Wikus' eyes paused before finally darting towards the mangled piece of flesh dangling from the arm.
"Why-." He stopped himself. Those were not words.
He lost his gaze and shot his eyes out ahead, wide, as he stifled a shaky breath. His other hand shook as it tried to reach his face, to feel it, to discern how much of him remained. But the blue, dusty prawn guided the weak appendage to his side, pressing it firmly against his chest.
"I do not want my guest to be in alarm." It said firmly.
"It will only make it worse." The prawn watched as Wikus pleaded mutely. His eyes spoke volumes that ranged between alarm and anxiety, until resolving into a determined look that would not settle for the prawn's advice. A low whirl indicated its unease.
"I have a mirror, and I will hold it for you. But you must not touch; the process is delicate, and any malformation will make you distinct, recognizable." It paused.
"Do you understand?" Wikus' eyes were able to signal by shifting up and down. The prawn nodded before getting up, and shifted a few things from the back of the shack to retrieve a jagged piece of mirror. He finally squatted down before sitting on his knees, holding out the mirror for Wikus.
It was unrecognizable to him. Antennae were budding out from his scalp, which no longer held hair; perhaps a few sparse strands in patches. His eyes had completely turned, his eyebrows giving way to the more industrious plating of the prawn. The bridge of his nose was now covered by the same material. The skin at his forehead stretched underneath the formed façade underneath, while his mouth and jaw remained in limbo between malformed human parts and protruding alien features. Besides the tube that ran past his mouth, he'd only received the two main tentacles on his face, while the others continued to bud and take appearance. It was also the first time he realized he wasn't really breathing through his mouth. The small quivering responses were from his neck, gills.
He would have started crying, but there was no such response from his body. A juvenile moan instead, escaped his mangled maw. He pushed the mirror away with his hand, hiccupping before another quiet wail exited into the open.
The prawn held the mirror close to itself, tense, as he scrutinized Wikus' reaction.
After a minute passed, the prawn put the mirror away and sat back down beside Wikus.
"There is only a little more to go." Wikus, in the throes of his misfortune likely ignored the comment as his cries uncontrollably escaped in hushed, squeaky clicks and tones. Meanwhile, the prawn regained his focus, tending to Wikus' peeling skin with a pair of scissors. The prawn worked diligently as Wikus eventually fell back to sleep. Compared to the rest of the body, only patches of skin remained. So far the head and groin appeared in transition. It was tricky, there were certain areas that seemed to mold together from either end of human and alien parts.
Regardless, they were areas that needed seeing to. The prawn just wasn't sure how the hybrid would cope with it. At the rate it was going it would not survive long after the transformation. The prawn could sense the amount of revulsion Wikus had for himself by the depressing effects of his pheromones. While prawns held a capacity to ignore and repress these emotions, the prawn's new found responsibilities brought with it a growing attachment to the former human. One that remained purely justified by its duties alone.
The shack's door crooked open; Elijah appeared carrying two lamb legs. The prawn, whose name was Markus, frowned at this unexpected arrival.
"Where did you get those?"
"I bought them."
"With what?" Elijah left the meat on the table before crouching down and staring at Wikus.
"Money." Markus's gaze ran across Elijah's body briefly, before glaring after the meat and getting up. Elijah was what the humans termed the 'conventional prawn', really, his capacity to critically think appeared to be dampened in some respect. He was also aggressive by nature. It had also been a full year since he stopped selling cat food – a year of distancing himself from the gang life.
Displeased, Markus started preparing the meat regardless.
"Was he crying again?"
"Yes." Markus paused, before stripping the legs of skin.
"He cries in his sleep too."
"I've noticed."
Elijah eventually took a seat at the corner of the room, closest to the door, watching and napping on and off. Markus eventually cut as much as the meat he could strip from the legs into small pieces, before grinding it down with what he had.
He set it aside in a plastic container, closing its lid and shuffling back to Wikus. It was already night, and curfew had already begun; in the morning he would wash Wikus. For now, the prawn was more than content with the hybrid asleep. The room had finally dispersed the thick air of sadness, and for once in a very long time a mood of neutrality had settled.
Markus had been able to remove the remaining parts without interrupting Wikus from his sleep the day after. What was once human was now completely alien. The carapace was a lighter green colour, yellowish in some areas. The antennae appeared normal, mandibles and limbs fine except for the missing digit on the one hand, and the mismatch of yellow and blue eyes.
The same eyes that had finally opened. Stopping what he had been doing, Markus knelt down and gripped Wikus' arm gently.
"It's been three weeks since you fell unconscious in your shack. From what I can see your transformation is complete." The hand released Wikus, as Markus glanced across the hybrid's lying body.
"You are going to have to start moving, or you will never get up." There was very little response as the hybrid seemed to have some difficulty keeping awake. After waiting for Wikus to resurface, a small mewl broke past the air. The incredible weight of Wikus' despair started its rampant cycle. "Listen to me, human… You have no choice. This is your fate, and if you do not accept what has happened to you, then you will surely die." The prawn was exacerbated by the hybrid's initial response, irritated by the repetitious self-pity magnified by the pheromones circulating the air.
Yet the hushed cries persisted as the prawn drew back on its haunches, glaring at the 'human'.
And after a few more minutes, Markus had made his decision. It came with forcing Wikus up to a sitting position. By then he was quiet, even a little timid as he flinched and watched the prawn. Another few minutes were given, before the prawn faced Wikus again.
"I'm going to help you up. I'll need you to lean against me and wrap your arms around me. As we move up I want you to push with your legs, okay?"
Wikus nodded, as his heart spiked. He found it awkward as he leaned into the prawn, unfamiliar of the textures, or even the smell from being so close to these creatures. Wikus almost let go and pulled back, but he would rather have the ability to stand then lay on the ground all day. Despite how appealing it appeared, it was driving him partially mad.
The prawn's arms hooked underneath as it squatted in front of him. The creature was remarkably strong and steady, as it started to pull Wikus up. At first Wikus wasn't sure if he really had legs to begin with, there was 'nothing' there to feel. He wasn't sure if he was even controlling the lower half of himself.
He tried pushing as though he would as a human, but the legs underneath him would buckle, and he'd hang onto the prawn as he tried again. By now they were completely up. The prawn would waver whenever his legs lost their balance, but the grip remained strong. After a few failed attempts, Markus' voice broke open.
"Do not force it. Try… 'letting it'. Let your body speak to you." Wikus leaned even more, feeling weak and lethargic as he cursed internally. Who the fook was this prawn? After a few minutes of rest, he tried it once more. Reluctant to follow the prawn's advice but desperate enough to try, Wikus started slowly.
He took the time to 'feel' his legs out. It was uncomfortable because the sensation was so bizarre. He concentrated on the sense of touch with his feet first, which guided him from the bottom up. The alien joint that was 'bent backwards', and causing him and his brain most of the confusion was slowly connecting. Wikus placed gradual weight on the one leg before allowing the other to 'flesh' out.
Markus shifted just slightly to challenge Wikus. It was a successful first step, but the human parts of his brain clicked in with a fumble from the other leg. With a short recovery, Markus was able to guide Wikus to a chair. With a little bit of difficulty Wikus was sitting across from Markus, who remained standing.
"Good… This is good." Wikus' gaze was nearly burning, which seemed to make the prawn smile somewhat.
"I am Markus. The other one is Elijah. We know that you helped Christopher escape." Each pause was deliberate; the prawn watched closely, observing for any signs that Wikus might fade back into unconsciousness. So far, he was completely fine.
"I have been assigned to care for you, by my people. We… have many questions to ask you. But I will let you recover before any of that. It will take some time for you to speak." By then, the anger and despair that was once rife towards the prawn seemed to have lost most of its fire. Wikus looked lost, as he stared into his hands and touched them.
He still felt human. But even as he tried to form words – as they should be formed – his mouth moved in strange ways. The tendrils displaced themselves slightly, mandibles – hesitant – as he explored the strange mechanisms of his throat. There were things that closed, almost like swallowing, where he continued to breathe regardless. The clicks would roll off the roof of his mouth easily, despite being nonsense in reality.
Lost in this bizarre body, he felt wrong. That it wasn't right. That he wasn't right.
His gaze finally lifted back to the prawn.
"I must leave now. But I will be back in a few hours. Take this time to explore your body. It will help with your transition." It was so matter of fact that Wikus was consciously numb to these words. Except for the constant loop of thoughts running through his head; this is wrong, I'm not right.
He watched as Markus left. The shack was suddenly a lonely place, even for its small space. It should have felt like there was 'something else' there, with him, but that someone was a dead thing to him. And he wanted nothing to do with it, except to ignore and escape from 'it'. But it surrounded him, whenever he moved or breathed. He was caged, he was caught, and he could do nothing, absolutely nothing about it.
Notes: It's a smaller chapter; but I hope you enjoyed it regardless. There'll be more poleepkwa background coming up in later chapters. Tell me what you think! Constructive criticism or otherwise…
~Rue