Author's Note
I sort of have to apologize to eldestOyster because there's a word-for-word callback here: an excerpt from the first chapter that she pointed out could be edited. I decided to keep it as-is for now because it's super important and plot-relevant that the two passages match, and I haven't quite had the time to go back and fix up chapter one due to shenanigans this week. DX But! With shenanigans resolved, I'm hoping that I'll have time to go back and edit the chapters she's reviewed and hopefully get the passage here fixed up while at the same time taking care of chapter five. We shall see!
Also! Thanks again to Neophilic for the sweet review! (Names are fantastically interesting, and it's fun to make them plot-relevant. 8D)
Welcome also to Slulldom, who as of this writing has a fantastic avatar. Thanks for the review, and here's to hoping you enjoy the rest of the show!
Four
D.E.V.A. CLEARANCE LEVEL 10
CLEARANCE ACCEPTED.
DOCUMENT TYPE: LOG
DESIGNATION: THE ADAM INCIDENT, FILE 01
DESCRIPTION: ARCHIVE OF INSTANT DIGITAL MEMORANDA FROM PROFESSOR SAMUEL OAK, DIRECTOR OF POLARIS INSTITUTE, TO COMMITTEE MEMBER 02. AT THIS POINT, COMMITTEE INVOLVEMENT WITH D.E.V.A. IS STILL NOT PUBLICLY KNOWN.
DATE-TIME: 06/10/02, 16:54
FROM: C-02
TO: OAK, SAMUEL
MESSAGE: We have processed your full report of the containment breach. Your next instructions are as follows. You must keep Codenames Adam and Abel under secure lockdown until further notice. We are sending a specialist who will assist you in handling these specimens. Until then, you are to monitor Adam and Abel for any further developments. Any questions concerning these instructions or any new information may be forwarded to C-02.
FROM: OAK, SAMUEL
TO: C-02
MESSAGE: [CODENAME ADAM] hasn't been showing the same violent behaviors as [CODENAME ABEL] or Codename Pandora for a few days now. Members of the behavioral team are saying this is a sign that maybe we can get through to him. We'd like to try to wake him up and see if he's lucid.
FROM: C-02
TO: OAK, SAMUEL
MESSAGE: Do not proceed. Do not engage with Codename Adam.
FROM: OAK, SAMUEL
TO: C-02
MESSAGE: I hope I'm not out of line when I say this, but this is [CODENAME ADAM]. Surely it won't hurt to at least try.
FROM: C-02
TO: OAK, SAMUEL
MESSAGE: Do not engage with Codename Adam. Violation of this order may result in termination from your position as director of Polaris Institute. Repeat: do not engage.
FROM: OAK, SAMUEL
TO: C-02
MESSAGE: Understood. May I make a request?
FROM: C-02
TO: OAK, SAMUEL
MESSAGE: So long as it does not violate your previous orders, the Committee is willing to consider it. What is your request?
FROM: OAK, SAMUEL
TO: C-02
MESSAGE: [CODENAME ADAM]'s father, Professor [REDACTED], works for the New Bark Institute branch. I'd like to at least let him know about his son's condition.
FROM: C-02
TO: OAK, SAMUEL
MESSAGE: Request acknowledged and deemed acceptable.
[END CORRESPONDENCE.]
—
Bill coughed in the haze, but he stood his ground. "I beg your pardon?"
The creature—the thing that looked more like him the longer he stared at it—turned its head away from him and sucked on the hookah's mouthpiece again.
"Who," it responded, exhaling a snake of purple-green smoke, "are you?"
"If you're trying to send me on an existential journey, I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint you," Bill rasped. He covered his mouth and nose and glared at the being. "I already went on one nine years ago. I know exactly who I am. I just don't care for being formal. Who are you, and why are you in my head?"
The figure looked at him, and for the first time, Bill noticed something strange about its face besides the fact that it was his. Even though Bill could tell that this being was expressing emotion, it wasn't through the face. At every question, all the creature did was stare at its surroundings blankly, as if its face was actually a mask. In truth, Bill couldn't put into words how he knew what emotion the being was expressing. He only knew. It was like the feeling one got if someone stared at them long enough: a creeping, hot sensation on the back of their neck.
And as soon as he realized this, Bill felt incredibly, intensely uneasy.
"You assume I am asking you existential questions, but you misunderstand," the creature continued. "I am simply stalling until you can put together what it is I am for yourself."
Bill swallowed hard. "I already know what you are. You're the parasite. I don't know how you managed to break into my subconscious, but—"
"We are symbionts of one another. Your body is mine now."
"But my head isn't."
"Do we not share a nervous system?"
"That makes absolutely no sense!" Bill sighed and looked away. He had to control his emotions, regardless of how much his instincts were screaming at him to run. This wasn't the time to lose himself. "Are you a psychic-type?"
The creature stared at Bill as it drew in another hit from the hookah's hose. Its face was still expressionless, but that didn't stop the cold, clammy, uneasy knot in the pit of Bill's stomach from growing.
"Ah, the scientist," it said. "Always asking questions. It is a shame you are human. All of your questions are the wrong ones, but that is to be expected of your species."
Bill sighed again, this time in exasperation. "All I want to know is how you're in my head."
His companion drew the hookah pipe into its mouth again. Its lips shaped its next words around the hard tip.
"Is that really what you want to know?"
In those precious seconds, Bill hesitated. His eyes shifted back to the figure, and he stood there in thought. He wanted to say yes, but his mouth couldn't shape the word. It would have been a lie anyway. There were so many other questions he needed to ask. Were the visions real? Was he really dead? If he was dead, why was he seeing the parasite? What was he supposed to do now? What was the parasite exactly? Where did it come from? Why was it there?
But the longer he stood, the more a single question wormed its way to the front of his mind. As his brain wrapped itself around it, he felt himself relax, his body slacken, and his eyelids grow heavy. It was the incense, he thought, but the dreamscape itself somehow made him tired. He watched as the creature exhaled, as the sweet-smelling smoke swept through the air. The wisp curled around him and distorted, and he could swear that the end of it formed the long, jagged snout and claws of a dragon.
Then, his question spilled out of his mouth, almost by its own volition.
"What do you want from me?"
The creature eyed him and put aside the pipe. "You may be smarter than you look."
"So I've been told," Bill responded. "Please answer my question."
His companion did not smile, but Bill could swear that there was a shifting shadow in its eyes, a shadow that somehow made the mask look like it was laughing. Bill felt like he was being stared at in the same way that an adult might look at a child who said something stupid. It put Bill on edge, but he stood where he was, feet rooted to the platform. At the same time, the creature swept its legs over the edge of its throne and stood. White fabric swirled around its figure and formed a robe that obscured most of its body. The only things left that Bill could see of it were its human face and its long, thin hands. It brought the pipe to its mouth again as it stared directly into Bill's eyes.
At last, it spoke, and with each word another tendril of purple smoke puffed out and curled around Bill's face.
"Form a contract with me," it said.
"What?" Bill breathed.
The creature cupped his chin in a hand—a hand that, Bill realized, was actually tipped with sharp, metallic claws. "A contract. You want to live, do you not?"
"Of course I do," he replied hoarsely.
"I can make that happen," it told him. "Currently, my heart is beating for our body, but our nerves are intermingled. All it will take is a shock to force your heart to begin beating, and you will be able to live again." It leaned closer. "Of course, you will get so much more than that. My kind normally steps aside and allows our hosts to die from the transformation, but we can also shield them and shape their bodies as they sleep, as you have noticed already. I have already done part of that for you, but it is the aftermath that may break an ordinary, independent host. Not many of those who bear us can control our abilities, but I will help you adapt and learn. I can assist your mind in molding to the body I will give you, and I can teach you how to wield our gifts without destroying yourself. In short, I offer you the ability to live. Perhaps not as a human, but you will live."
Bill wanted to back away. He wanted to move. The voice in his head, the one that told him to run from something dangerous, was now back and louder than ever. But he stood still, staring deep into a reflection of his own eyes while metal nails scratched his chin.
"A-and you?" he stammered. "Contracts aren't one-sided. What do you get in exchange for my survival?"
The being tilted its head. "Astute. What do I want in return? That is simple. I only used the word 'our' in reference to the thing that had been your body, did I not?"
Bill tried to pull away at that point, but the creature tightened its grip on his face.
"Oh," he said. "Of course."
It nodded. "Of course. It is in your name; it is your purpose. I am a symbiont, and you are my host. My kind underestimate how valuable you hosts are, but I know. Protect me, and I will protect you. Do we have a deal?"
"I don't trust you," he answered.
The creature pulled its hand away but kept its head tilted. Its eyes bore into Bill, and he felt it study him carefully.
"A wise move," it said. "But you do not have much of a choice, do you? I am already inside you, and I have already changed your body. You cannot simply go back to the world you knew. I told you that the contract would give you life. Do you realize then what you would receive if you were to decline my offer?"
It didn't have to finish, and Bill didn't have to be a genius to know what the alternative was. Yet he nodded and shrugged at the thought anyway.
"I want to propose my own clause for you," he said.
The symbiont stepped back and drew the pipe to its mouth once more. "Go on."
"I'll agree to your terms only if you swear that I can trust you."
Another pause. Once again, the creature looked Bill over carefully and drew another hit through the hookah's mouthpiece.
"You must be brave, giving me an order. You do realize, do you not, that I hold control over our physical form? If I choose to kill you, I can easily release your mind into your body, wait for you to die, and reanimate your corpse to fit my needs."
Bill smirked. "Exactly why I need you to agree to that clause. I'm not brave, but I know that I have nothing to lose by negotiating. If I disagree to your terms, then I die. If you disagree to my clause, then I would reject your contract and still die. I'd only really lose if I agree to a contract that has loopholes you can abuse. If I'm to survive, I'll need a guarantee that you won't hurt me."
"This contract seems more and more as if it is tailored to suit your needs," the creature replied. "If you must negotiate, do it properly. What do I get in return for agreeing to your addition, as opposed to simply killing you?"
"What can I offer you?" Bill asked. "I don't know anything about you or your species."
"Do you not?" The parasite inhaled once more, and then, in a perfect imitation of Bill's voice, it recited, "Pokémon 2000KH, known tentatively as ixodida. The Symposium isn't quite sure where it came from, but the current prevailing theory is that it's connected to the meteor shower that occurred over Fortree City a year ago, thanks to the timing and location of the first ixodida sightings. Very little else is known about it, except that it's exclusively carnivorous—and a highly aggressive predator at that. No one is even sure what it looks like. Its aggression and speed practically guarantee that anyone who has a clear view of it also has very little chance of surviving the attack that inevitably ensues."
Bill blanched. His voice wavered as he said, "How … how did you do that?"
"I am connected to you, remember?" It turned its head away from him. "Your thoughts. Your memories. They are all coded into your brain. At any time, I can reach into your mind and draw forth what I want. And that is what prevents me from killing you. I am not a scientist, and I know nothing of your planet. But you? You possess a wealth of knowledge on both Earth's technology and the life forms that inhabit it, and because of that, you have the ability to interpret any new information we receive. Why would I waste that resource?" It hesitated briefly, and its hand curled in the air before drawing the hookah pipe back to its lips. "You see, Bill, what I want most from you is your brain. I need you to tell me more about your world."
"Why?"
The parasite eyed him. "Why?"
Bill nodded, his expression hardening into as grave a look as he could muster. "Yes. Why would you need to know?"
Raising its chin, the creature took one more drag from the hookah. "Because my people exist elsewhere in this world."
"And you need to find them? And then what?"
"I do not need to find them. I need to survive them." The being shut one eye. "You see, Bill, you and I are a lot alike. Our respective people consider us to be … anomalies. On my home world, I was an outcast of sorts. People treated me differently because of what I was."
Bill raised his eyebrows. "Differently? Did they…?"
It peered at him from over the mouthpiece. "I worry that on this planet, that same behavior will continue. I can sense that my people are congregating on an island far from here—the island where I first arrived on your planet, in fact. Once they do, I fear what that may mean for your kind."
At that, Bill started. "What? Do you … do you mean to say that we could be facing an invasion?"
His companion shrugged and sat down. "Perhaps. It is a very real possibility."
Bill stepped forward, planting his foot on the first of the cushions. "What about a war?"
"Perhaps," the creature repeated. It cast half-lidded eyes on Bill. "My species is militaristic once we acquire host bodies. It is our nature to gather and establish footholds on the planets we inhabit. We will do anything to prevent the existing dominant species from interfering with the growth of our new world. There is no guarantee that my kind will want peace from yours."
"No," Bill whispered. His eyes tore away from his companion, and his gaze darted across the floor. "No. No, that can't happen!" His glance drifted back towards the parasite. "Listen. There are countless lives on this planet, and every single one of them has a meaning. If there's a war, then..."
"Then those countless lives have no guaranteed future," it finished. "I know that, but I cannot say that the rest of my kind does."
"Then what do we do?" Bill asked.
Putting aside the hookah's hose, the symbiont offered him a slender hand.
"We form a contract," it said. "You asked me what I wanted from the deal. I want your knowledge and your cooperation. Therefore, allow me to restate the terms of the contract. I will give you the freedom to live. I will assist you in adapting to our body, and I will teach you how to use our gifts. All I require from you is what I have just asked for: your knowledge and your cooperation. When I ask you to act, you will do exactly what I say. In all other cases, our body will be yours to command. Understood?"
"Yes," Bill replied firmly. "And the trust clause?"
"Bill, I am a symbiont. Anything I do will be in your best interests."
"Promise anyway. I need the assurance that I can trust you."
It shrugged. "Very well. As part of my end of our bargain, I will neither utter a single lie to you nor act in a way that would be a detriment our body. You have my word that I will do everything I can to ensure our survival." It pushed its hand closer to Bill. "Now. Do we have a deal or not?"
Bill scrutinized the offer and exhaled. "I really hope I'm not making a mistake here."
He grasped the being's hand, and instantly, his world turned hot and white. It felt like a jolt of lightning ran through him all at once, and for the next few seconds, he couldn't feel a thing. It was as if his entire body went numb, like the moments of deep sleep between full consciousness and a dream. He felt himself dropping as hazy, pastel colors swirled around him. His fall abruptly stopped after a second, and all at once, his vision cleared until the being's pale face hovered over him. It took him a moment to realize that his partner was holding him up, and it took another for the symbiont to lay him carefully on the cushioned throne. Once he felt the softness of his support against his back, Bill began to notice that his body felt hot and heavy, as if his limbs were chained to iron weights. Even breathing took some effort as he forced his head to turn to the creature.
As its host recovered, the creature stepped down the stairs of the platform. One of its clawed hands scratched the surface of the drawers set into each step. The longer Bill watched it move, the more a voice in his head squeaked that something wasn't right.
"What … what did you do to me?" he rasped.
"Signed the contract and took the first step in upholding our deal," his companion replied. "I have given you back our body and restarted your heart. That weight you feel is partly you adjusting to having a physical form and partly the fact that our physical form is heavier than the body you owned as a human. I took the liberty of molding it into something durable enough to suit our purposes. There you are."
At the last three words, the parasite leaned into one of the steps. It pulled open a drawer and peered into the soft, red light emanating from inside. Carefully, it reached in and drew out a wooden cigar box inlaid with intricate swirls and spots. Its hand ran over the carvings on the top as it walked back up the steps. With its free hand, it grabbed one of Bill's shoulders and helped him sit up before wrapping its arm around him for support.
"Here," it said as it placed the box in Bill's lap.
Bill stared at the lid. He ran his fingers across the swirling wood carvings until his fingertips caressed the triple spiral etched on the top.
"What is this?" he murmured.
"A gift," the creature explained. "It is part of the second clause to our bargain, in which I promised to teach you how to adapt to our form. Inside this box, you will find knowledge. This will not be the only method I will use to teach you, but it is a quick way to give you a basic understanding."
"Of what?"
The creature leaned in and lifted the lid of the box slowly.
"Of our body, of course," it told him.
It threw the lid open completely, and for the second time, Bill was blinded by a white light. This time, instead of pastel colors, the light resolved into darkness. But it didn't just resolve into darkness, no. It resolved into a hum. A dull, full-body pain. The sharp, bitter smell of sanitizers. A cold so deep Bill could feel it in his bones.
And then he opened his eyes.