"I was dreaming that I leading a small child across a field of flowers," said the 60-something woman, reclining on the invisible couch.

"Have you seen this child before? Do you know her?"

"No, no. The child had long, spider legs – like a tweak."

"I understand," said the psychiatrist, leaning forward a little to listen better. "Go on."

"This child and I were walking somewhere to buy a dress for some kind of festival." The woman looked over at the doctor, barely moving her head.

"There's no reason to go any further, Mrs. Simians. You're probably having a reaction to the implantation. Sometimes the intestinal parasite is close enough to the spinal column to pass over memories from its previous owner. It's not common, but it's not unheard of either."

"Thank you doctor," said the woman looking tired. "Can I go now. I'd like to go home."

"Just let me wave your son in. He's been eager to see you."

A young man in strikingly good health stuck his head through the wall and the wall became transparent. "Is she okay, doctor? She seemed so upset."

The man in the white coat smiled gently. "She'll be fine. Sometimes it takes a while for the host and the symbiont to balance each other. Right now the parasite may be having trouble within its new environment. Sometimes the solution is as easy as feeding it foods it's familiar with."

The mother snarled at her son as he approached her. "I never wanted that thing inside me."

"You'll live longer with it – and be in better health as well."

"The doctor sat down on a metal stool between them. "Intestinal parasites evolved step by step with humans. We believed that the spotlessness of space would keep us healthy, but orbitals like the Mystic may be a bit too clean. The reintroduction of a symbiotic parasite that has been harvested from a tweak may keep you strong for another sixty years." The doctor crossed his arms as though certain he had made his point.

"It's that part, the harvesting that…" The pain was instantaneous, as the woman grabbed her mid-section before buckling over. As she began to pass-out she could hear her son lunge towards her, screaming for assistance.

Merna was dreaming again. She had seen the greenhouses of Sedna in holos, but she was inside of them now. As she looked straight up, she could see a brilliant star called Sol, surrounded by colored, crescent lights. Her true home was there, circling a red crescent.

She looked down and her arms and legs were spider-like as they went about their daily work, tending to the fields of vegetation. She was male. In the near-distance another spider-like creature looked at her and smiled. She could feel the contentment of the symbiont inside her. A musical phrase sounded and all the tweaks in the field began to move forward, heading toward the feeding rooms where they would eat a midday meal. Taking the hand of the female, Merna noticed the tweak was pregnant.

"Mom, can you wake up? Can you hear me?"

"We need to get her into surgery Christopher. The symbiont is rejecting her – she'll die if we don't get it out of her now."

"Mom, I'll see you after the surgery."

Within the offices of Applesoft, two middle-management employees were getting ready to go home.

"We received another report of a symbiont rejecting its host. This time on Mars."

"That's the third one this month. What the heck happened this time?"

"Same thing – the symbiont would rather have stayed inside the tweak it was harvested from."

The aging employee pushed his fingers through his hair in frustration. "But the tweaks are just the Bio-engineered property we grow the symbionts in. Genetically engineered things that we sustain until the parasites are viable for harvest."

Earl looked at Charley while turning off his console. "I think it's the fact that these creatures have families on Sedna – mates and children they care about. The symbionts pick up on that – and rebel against killing the hosts and being transplanted."

"Excellent! Let's make it policy that the offspring are immediately and permanently separated from their parents after they're dropped. The tweaks will have no illusion that they are anything more than Applesoft property. Problem Solved. We could even feed them less, so the symbionts will be happier in their new hosts."

"Seems a little heartless, to me," mumbled Earl.

"We'll both get a promotion for figuring this one out, my friend," shouted Charley, slapping Earl on the back in triumph.

Is fate carved in stone? Or is fate the BMW
of eternity and time its fuel? Who knows?

"I've always been there for you," a voice said to Charles.

"Who's there!" Charles said.

"I'm your other one," the voice said.

"My other —what!" Charles said.

"The one that tried to teach you things and look out for you. Like the time the other boys wanted you to play fire-escape tag on the back of Franklin Elementary School. Remember that? You listened to me then, didn't you. That day, Tommy Martin fell off the top handrail and split his head open on the asphalt three floors down, he died a week later. Remember that day?" the voice said.

"I didn't feel like playing!" Charles said. "Who the hell am I talking to?" He looked around, nobody was there.

"Of course you didn't feel like playing. I was the one that made you feel that way. That was the only way I could talk to you until now," the voice said.

"What are you?" Charles said. "Whata you mean talk to me now!" Charles spun around, nobody there.

"You can hear me now. You can hear me because all you have now is your thoughts, and all I have now is my persistence. And after all these years, all these times I've helped you, all these times you've ignored your feelings, you can now hear me. Maybe I've always helped you because I feel that I am of the female persuasion. Hah, now I'm the one that's going to get hurt. How-I-Hate-You!

"This time you really did it! Got into a fight because—some dude disrespected you! And, in front of all your buddies you had to show them how tough you were, didn't you? What the hell's the use of talking to you? What the hell's the use? Why did this happen to me? And why do you always ignore your feelings—when you know they're right almost all the time? Why?" the voice said. "How I hate you! How I hate what you've done to me! How I hate you…it's not fair! It's not right! —I should be able to get away!"

I'm going crazy, Charles thought. Are ghosts lingering here? Is God talking to me —or what? He froze, but felt hot. He slowly turned around in a circle and studied everything within sight. Nobody. He peeped out into the corridor again: Vacant and soundless.

A cold sweat formed on Charles's brow; then sweat beads started bumping into each other like billiard balls meeting on a pool table. One moved only when hit by another. Then that one would shoot off down Charles's brow and fall either on his shirt, which was becoming soaked, or it would hit the floor. One or two found one of his eyes, then tears would try to rinse out the salt.

"I've been with you most of your life," the voice said. "Yet, you never ever heeded me after grade school. But, then again how could you?" the voice said.

"How could I what!" Charles said.

"You never looked inward, or prayed, or sat silent by a park or stream enjoying the solitude that a nice sunny day can bring— to be alone with your thoughts. Always you ran with the crowd, chased girls but not for love—drinking, drugs, staying up all night and leaving home because your parents didn't understand you! Hah, what a joke you are, and what an unlucky thing I am. I live in you!

"I understood you, you chose to do exactly what you wanted, even if you felt it was wrong. You've ignored yourself, Charles, ignored yourself, ignored your parents, and you've ignored me!

"Ignored myself? Ignored myself! That's bull shit! Hear me whatever you are," Charles said. "I'm going nuts! Hear me! This is Crazy! …"

The voice inside Charles usually didn't sense much, but today Charles's heart beat like it were pumping water back up Niagara Falls. Charles's blood generally like a brook flowing leisurely between its banks, now sounded like a tsunami rushing forth and feeding on its own sound as it approached the unsuspected. And Charles's breathing, short but quick, deep but shallow, and hot but icy, united with the others, and once together the world in which the voice lived became a thunderstorm, growing in intensity and reverberating as if it were striking inside Carnegie hall, repeatedly.

The voice screamed, but only Charles could hear it, and the screams bounced back and forth within Charles's skull until Charles's head couldn't hold another sound: "I can't stand it any more! I can't stand it anymore…Please stop…"

Warden Hoover led his staff down the corridor and stopped in front of Charles's cell. Charles managed to look up.

The Warden studied Charles for an moment and Charles studied the Warden— both staring at one another but not on equal terms.

"Guard, open up cell number 696," Warden Hoover said.

The iron door slid open; Warden Hoover stepped into the cell's doorway and stopped. He held the court order and read the following: "Charles Parks, you have been sentenced to death…by electrocution for the beating death of one Richard Keith. Sentence will be carried out at 12:01 A.M.

"Guards, escort inmate Charles Parks to the holding cell until execution time."

The guards had no trouble getting Charles out. And once out in the corridor, Charles grabbed his head with his hands and starting screaming "Stop, please stop —I can't take it—Stop!"

However, Charles didn't resist the guards,and they didn't have to manhandle him; he walked with them obediently. Yet, he kept screaming "Stop! Quit it… Stop…" which confused the guards. Why would someone scream stop, yet continue without being forced?

Charles kept screaming "Stop, Stop, Stop" and the guards kept exchanging light-pale expressions with each other and with the Warden, whenever he glanced back.

Lights Out

The flight doctor was so perturbed.

"Dammit, Alice, we were very specific about first contact with aliens." He showed me the scan image — again — as if I could decipher what it was he saw there. "This isn't your DNA. It isn't even human DNA. So, how do you explain it? And don't tell me it was something you ate, either."

I guess I looked pretty foolish hemming and hawing in front of him.

"It was… they — they said it was a greeting ceremony. Okay? A handshake is all — but I had to take my gloves off for it, or they'd be offended… "

"Right. And I'm the Easter bunny. You had sex with one of them, didn't you?"

My ears were about to burst into flame, I swear. I hemmed and hawed some more and looked away. "Well — he was kinda cute, with those big eyes and all… hell, doc, it's a five-nines Earth-normal planet, and I knew I couldn't get pregnant… I mean… "

"Well, congratulations, you're not pregnant. You're infested with something, and we don't even know what it is!"

"Well, I don't know why this is such a big deal, I mean, I feel great, everything's fine… couldn't you just give me a shot for it?"

"No, I can't give you a shot for it! It's incorporated itself into your nervous system, for Chrissakes! I couldn't kill it without killing you!" He huffed in disgust. "You're confined to base until further notice. Report back for checkup again tomorrow."

I took that as my dismissal and went to my quarters.

I really felt bad about the whole thing. I mean, getting this — whatever-it-was, was bad enough, but that poor little guy — I mean, he just died in my arms right there, the moment he finished. I couldn't bring myself to tell the doc about that. And then the others just picked up his body and carried it off like it was yesterday's newspaper or something. Some greeting ceremony that was. 'Welcome to Glixporf, we're dying to do you!' I had to laugh, as sad as it was.

Deities on fire, what have I done? Ten thousand generations of ancestors are humiliated! Where was my self-control? 'You're mature now,' they said, 'go find a nice new host.' And I have to wind up in this thing? I wonder if I can kill myself… it doesn't even have decent senses… and this body is so clumsy and inefficient… it has to eat three times a day! I just know the others talked me into this as a practical joke. They never liked me much, anyway. But…

… these things did make it into space, all the way to our world, without any help… and now I'm on their home-world — I think… maybe I can manage here — but, gods, I don't even have time to grow up with this thing; it's already mature… can't change that now; I'll just have to — no, it's unthinkable. I can't. I just can't.

I'll just have to do what I can.

Second day home, and — I can't figure it out, I'm just — confused… so many thoughts in my head, and they don't feel like mine… like, when did I ever care about tensor calculus or organic chemistry? I suddenly understand why our ships can't go any faster… damn, if they just changed that thing in the engine — I don't even know the name of it — we could do the Earth-to-Mars run in 7.492674857578 hours, corrected for — hell, I can even see the course in my head — Mars is in conjunction now… doc's not gonna believe this… I've gotta talk to the physicist…

I can't stand this! These creatures actually make war with each other! But I found a concept in this one — that everything happens for a reason — I know that's a violation of known physical principles, but maybe if I take it as a point of philosophy… like it or not, and as revolting as it is, I think I'm stuck here — which means — ewww — this has got to be our new host species… and I have to vector through their reproductive system… there's hope, though, if I can start fresh with a new one…

Honest to God, I don't know what's come over me… I really did mean to talk to the Professor about all these notions in my head, about spacetime, and new star-drives, but — God, I'm so embarrassed… I didn't mean to tear his clothes off…

When Sam was young he studied philosophy. He thought he wanted to be a priest, later a Rabbi, and then he didn't know. He was a free spirit and the basic structure and strictures of those mythologies pushed him away. Disillusioned, he abandoned the enlightenment quest, ignored his nagging desire for a deeper understanding of life, and became instead, a high priest, worshiping at the alter of sex, drugs, cars, motorcycles and money. Then one day, rereading some Zen commentaries, coupled with three hits of acid, his life changed.

Sam thought to himself, I know I have faults, but now, I feel as if a door opened.

I'd been meditating for decades attempting among other things, to resolve the conundrum of this thing that I call, "I AM". When I tried to put my finger on this "I AM", it was like trying to grasp a shadow. I AM not there. So, the question arose, is this me, this "I AM", the same me that was me a second ago, a year ago, ten years ago, or even tomorrow? The memories continue, and even those are questionable. I'm certainly not the boy of five or ten or the man of thirty. To look at it another way: the energy of the flame, the energy of the fire, as it burns, is it the same flame through time? So who or what is this thing that I can't put my finger on, that I call me?

Through practice, and through the guidance of the learned ones before me, I, (very funny since I do not know this I of whom I speak), have glimpsed at another realm that may shed light on this question. The door appears to open a microsecond between the phases of "just before sleep takes over from wakefulness". At that very spot, it might be revealed. My guess is, being able to hold to that spot, unmoved and unmoving in time and space, will be a key and a route to an understanding of what IT all is.

As I entered, and instead of the expected visions, remembering the acid trips, I saw nothing but gray. I heard a voice clear as a bell.

This voice said, "Hello Sam, I've been expecting you. Yes, you have it. That time between awake and sleep IS the open gate. Now, through meditation you finally broke through to this first level. After years of backsliding we can finally meet. Not all can do it. It takes work, congratulations. The guides who have been there before you have left a variety of instructions and paths. Most humans ignore, misinterpret or misuse the knowledge. Before we go on, let me make this reality crystal clear.

"First and foremost, I am your symbiont and without my presence, you, as you think you know yourself, are not.

"Second, your socialization patterning has many words for our existence none of which match our all pervasive reality. One of the terms your kind use includes soul, which is a highly developed metaphysical falsehood that you all cling to, desperately. Other concepts held are: ego, muse, guardian angels, and gods with other such mysterious nonsense. Don't even argue with me on those points.

"Third, you are a sentient creature, as are all down to the quark level, and as I suggested, without our presence you are not much more than any other self aware, predatory animal. We are the ones who attempt, none to well in your case, to give direction to your lives and bring you up above the base level of existence.

"Let me give you a quick idea of what we are. We are a type of energy that remains in this form through and outside every expansion and collapse of this universe. We exist on many levels throughout and beyond the infinities of time.

"As symbionts, we do not choose our companions. As one sentient dies, we get reassigned to anything from an amoeba to human. Our jobs, is to lead, guide, whatever you want to call it, within the mental capabilities of that sentient. Presently, I have you.

"We show up about a year after your birth. From there we invade your dreams, poking, prodding, whispering, and in your case, shouting into that receptor you insist is a thinking brain. Your brain can pick up more than light and sound. Your type of animal generally ignores that region of development for reasons we symbionts still cannot fathom.

"Look at what you did before, the mental power you had, and mental training begun, and the opportunities for true understanding you simply threw away. It was wasted, all wasted. Then, I had to start over with the guidance, hinting, whispering, and shouting at you. Sometimes I wished you had died.

"You heard something that's for sure, but then you ignored me, like most of your kind. You're thick, pigheaded, warlike and ignorant of the ways of the universe. You and your kind think you're the only ones that matter; worst of all, in your hubris, you think you're the only ones that exist!

"Now is not the time to deny all I've just communicated. I'm just as stuck with you as you are with me. This has not been a fun trip. Every time you get a grasp, a chance to move forward, you've blown it!"

I might be crazy. I thought I heard the voice sigh.

"Sam," it continued, " you've begun, again. I don't even want to count how many revolutions around this star have you undertaken just to get your foot in the door? You've got a few left. Let's work on this together. I think, I hope, we can take this further.

"Sam, there's no point in kidding, and personally, I have my doubts regarding your success.

"I hope I'm assigned a dog or cat next."

After a bit, I finally replied "Oh really? I'm sure I can find this door again without you. Thanks for the boat ride."

The space flowing around the starship's hull,the colorful stars running endlessly, the brightness of the planets's surface as his huge vessel went near and past every system along the selected route he had to follow today.

Daw's skinny face was full of those spectacular things, his awareness completely enveloped with such wonderful sceneries.All that was possible only thanks to the Gubn symbiont, an alien from a planet positioned 100 light years away from Earth.

Since he was a dark-haired slender child, Daw had always been wishing to become a space pilot, working aboard one of the gigantic starships Earth had been allowed to build since it had entered the Interplanetary Alliance. But, in order to accomplish it, every human — once appropriately trained for space flight- had to undergo a special procedure: his brain needed to be modified/implanted with an alien symbiont from the Gubn people, who were the only appointed space pilots' symbionts living within the entire Alliance.

Indeed, no other species was able to make faster-than-light space travel without the help of a symbiont: every Gubn —exteriorly a sort of decahedron- shaped floating energy…— looked capable of residing in one pilot's brain, he was allowed to open the links connecting two jumpoints in space and make the interplanetary travel possible.There were no other means to do that, the human mind was not enough —- by itself — to get it nor the complicated computers created by men( or any other alien species within the Allliance, for sure…).

Of course, every starship needed to be well designed, thoroughly reinforced, and all the space pilots had to wear a special suit which could protect themselves from faster-then-light speed or deceleration.That said, only technology did not suffice to travel across the galaxy.

Daw,35 years old now, had been training hard on the Moon, until he had entered the Interplanetary Space Program that was the legal way to get the essential Space Pilot's licence, necessary to lead a starship.

At his current age, the man had been travelling for 10 years along with— and thanks to— the alien symbiont inside his mind.

Gubn representatives didn't need a human body to travel to the stars, on the other hand such a relationship allowed them to feel, hear, see the same way the hosts they were inside while moving across the galaxies.It was like living another life other than their own existence, nothing was better than that, according to them, the outdated way of space travel they were used to in the ancient times before joyning (and creating) the Interplanetary Alliance seemed valueless in comparison to the present days…

Daw had always been very happy because he was a space pilot, but lately he had become very sad, too: he knew that his alien symbiont was weak,a very rare illness had started damaging his neuronal strength.The man was well aware that he had to be taken away from his brain soon.These were the rules in such unpredictable cases.

Unfortunately, every Gubn could live only inside a single alien pilot at a time and, as the host's mind had undergone some deep changes when occupied for the first time from the symbiont, Daw wasn't going to be allowed to have any other alien inside afterwards…so, the end of space flights for his Gubn meant that he, too, had to stop travelling on board…

Thl, the Gubn sharing some of Daw's thoughts, knew that his next separation had to be done in order to prevent his host from receiving some damages.Actually, the alien illness wasn't lethal to a human pilot,but could endanger his mind, forcing him to stay away from any occupation aboard,simply by incapacitating him.

He knew all that was very painful for Daw, but staying longer inside him could make things even worst day by day: so, he had better do what he had to as soon as possible…

Anyway, as he shared his human host's thoughts, he understood what he was planning…

So, the last working day, as Daw's starship landed on Mars spaceport and the man got off for the last time, Thl had already figured out everything…

The same night, the Gubn was still inside his mind when the human went to the spaceport's far recesses and furtively boarded an old starship meant to be demolished over the following months, watching him work attentively to put all the systems online, then sat at the control desk in his spacesuit, ready to take off.

"What do you plan to do, Daw…?" the Gubn asked mentally "I've been too long inside your brain not to see this…"

"Certainly, I couldn't deceive you…"

"You know,if I stay in your brain any longer, I can damage you, unwillingly,because of my illness…"

"I've always been wishing a Space pilot's Licence.Now I don't want to lose it, I couldn't resist!I'll never be grounded at this age, not yet…"

"The same about me, I'm too young to cease living, but what can I do?For me, too, the loss of space travel isn't something easy…"

"Your species had been accustomed to space travel for centuries! On the contrary, it's a recent conquest for Mankind.About me, such a loss would be disconcerting as…"

"…as the end of a beautiful dream, I know…"

"You see what I feel!"

"But, most likely, you'll die…"

"So be it, but I'll fly in space until my last days…"

"Same feelings than mine…" Thl considered "So…what's the course heading this time?" he asked finally, uncomplaining.

"Second star to the left, right into it…" he stated "To boldly go where no one has gone before!"

"That will be a hell of an ending…" Thl said, amused.

The hum of the Integrator grew as my body slid into the encasement cubical, the sound echoing like a rasping hellhound.

I was securely strapped, lying on my back confined to the machine. Is there really any need for a blindfold?

The transition stage locked into place with a slight jolt and the humming died down, quickly replaced with a sloshing sound.

In the darkness my breathing was heavy and I fought hard to contain my panic. Will it discover my darkest secrets…? What if it hates me?

Could it kill me and take over my body, masquerading as me…? am I completely out of my mind?

Calm down, relax, you're okay. It'll be fine, just like the simulations.

The encasement fluid seeped through the guts of the Integrator, gurgling like a hungry predator. The solution must have a perfect balance or the Essence will die.

Silence. The silence was worse, triggering a primal fear. With no senses to anchor me to reality my mind created visions, visions of death.

Calm down Johnson, you know the drill… just relax.

The silence began to waver, replaced gradually by the sound of pressurised air. The hissing signified the first stage of transition where the Essence melded with the liquid. She was at her most vulnerable in gas form and couldn't survive for long.

The temperature dropped and the Essence's complex molecules began to slow as it condensed into a liquid - coalescence was imminent.

What if I'm too weak and can't accommodate the symbiont…

Think positive! We have their guarantees, and think of the benefits - the knowledge of a thousand cultures.

I imagined the churning solution just inches from my face and the Essence preparing for our joining in her own mysterious way. I heard the distinctive clunk of the heater engage. The liquid was heated and rapidly turned back to gas, and she was released.

I breathed in deeply, like they told me to, and the gas quickly filled my lungs. I tried to ignore the harsh odour, like sulphur, it tasted poisonous.

Will my mother recognise me? Will she still consider me her son…?

Of course she will! They explained the relationship, it's complementary – nothing is forced. You're on top of this… all in a day's work.

Rubbish! They're just using us for our bodies – we're just a tool to them…

Calm down and relax… remember why you agreed to this. It's an opportunity. I am an ambassador, I am history!

Wait, listen.

Quietly at first a deep groaning at the edge of my hearing grew into something else, a voice, a chanting that lingered for a moment too long, like a thousand suppressed screams converging into a horrific symphony. It grew and grew until it consumed my world.

A feeling of agoraphobia overcame me. New emotions entered my mind, thoughts and priorities that were utterly alien to me. I was touched by a mind that was vastly deeper than my own, yet rigidly narrower - it was like staring into the vast depths of a bottomless lake.

With much effort I focused my mind and anchored myself inwards, I concentrated on me, my individuality, I knew I had to or I would lose my mind to this thing.

Movement stirred deep within the chasm and gradually, the whole world seemed to shift. A bodiless face fabricated from the surroundings and rushed towards me. A million tiny fragments came together, endlessly shifting patterns converging to emulate her face.

The face was long, her jaw line pronounced giving the Essence a cold look of authority. Her expression was readable, well emulated.

She looked pained, and I felt the emotion as my own. Quickly it changed to anger. No, she was furious.

'How dare you deceive us?' she demanded, my senses danced on the knife edge of her rage.

I tried to recoil, to run, but she was always there following me through every avenue of my conscious mind.

'You cannot hide from me,' she screamed, millions of fragments shifting into flames of hair.

'Please… stop,' I managed. 'I don't understand.' Every inch of my being was ablaze with pain.

The Essence seemed to calm a little, the hideous face softening slightly against the pitch black encasement of my minds eye. 'I am the Essence Ellnica,' she said. 'Why have you tricked me?'

'Speak, human.'

My training had not anticipated a reaction this extreme, I felt utterly alone. 'I have not intentionally tricked you, Ellnica. Please, protocol did not prepare me for this. Why have you reacted this way?' Will she kill me?

No, think about this logically, she must have a reason for-

'Human, you claim to be a uni-existent being, yet I enter a body that is already complete. There is no place here for my kind. Why did you keep this from us?'

'You're mistaken-'

'Do not mock me, Human. I can see your thoughts. I can see that you are already joined.'

'No, you're wrong.'

'Then who is it that you commune with, man?' she said. 'Who is this other that you rebound your fears against?'

It took me a moment to understand what the Essence meant, but how to explain… 'This is how we think – it is only I.'

'Human, I can see the symbiont in residence. You are mistaken if you think this is a natural part of you.' The Essence's collective face changed, its expression became soft, wise even.

I felt her penetrate my memories, searching for the truth. I had nothing to hide and opened my mind to her.

'Perhaps, human, it is your kind that has been tricked.'

Sympathy crossed her face as she accepted my ignorance. 'I must leave,' she said. 'We cannot be three.'

He screamed in fierce torment, "This is not happening! Oh God, Don't let this happen to me, Please don't let her die like this!" he bitterly sobbed while caressing his wife's bloody face in his hands. "Oh dear God in heaven, I need her…I need Amanda," he cried in excruciating pain as his voice trailed off. He rocked her lifeless body back and forth in his arms.

Donovan was traumatized feeling blame for her sudden death!

Only moments earlier, he and Amanda were traveling Eastbound on Interstate 10 heading for Phoenix Arizona, just a mile before Exit 145 when their 2011 Ford Expedition was overturned by an unexpected tornado that had touched down briefly in front of their path. He had seen the overcast sky and racing dark clouds, but did not expect this to happen.

"Do not leave me, Amanda! I can't live life without you! I won't!"

Donovan wept silently.

Realizing she was gone, he looked at the glove box where he had hidden a gun underneath some maps. Intending to kill himself, he reached for it. As he did his weight shifted and the SUV, which had skidded on the edge of a small embankment during the storm, began to topple over to its side, causing Amanda's body to hit a metal object on the floorboard.

Donovan grabbed the driver's side seat belt and pulled himself toward her body. The vehicle had crashed into the side of a telephone poll that caused a loose electrical wire to brake free and brush across the metal shell of the SUV, electrifying it for a brief moment. The jolt reanimated Amanda's corpse for a few seconds, but her damaged body was beyond repair.

Donovan pulled himself to his wife and kissed her lips. Unexpectedly, she exhaled her last breath into his mouth. He passed out seconds later!

He woke up the next morning in a hospital. The nurse informed him the police found him stretched over his wife's body and had brought him and his luggage to the emergency room.

"Where is my wife?"

"Her body was taken to the county morgue," the nurse replied as she left the room.

Numb, he picked up the toiletries bag from his luggage and went to the bathroom to take a shower. Five minutes later he shouted, "What the hell!" He had shaven his right leg. He attributed it to grief and continued his shower thinking further about committing suicide.

"No!" he heard someone say. He pulled the shower curtain back, but no one was there.

Finishing his shower, he stood in front of the mirror for a minute, and then wiped the fog away with a towel. With great alarm he noticed he was wearing lipstick! He quickly wiped it off and sat on the toilet.

"Funny," he remarked out loud as the strange occurrences continued, "I never sat down to urinate before!"

Heading back home in a rental car to Louisville, Kentucky, where his wife's body would arrive a day earlier by plane, Donovan continued to explore thoughts of suicide.

"No darling! I do not want this for you!" He heard the voice of his wife deep within him. He was sure he was cracking up.

"Everything will be alright dear. You've got to trust me!"

"Amanda," he said with tears flooding his eyes.

"I'm here baby, inside of you!"

"How? You can't be… I mean, how did you…?"

"You took my breath away, as you always have my darling. I don't have much time. I'm growing weak! But I want you to know that you must live and believe," Amanda whispered to him.

Amanda was saddened by his lack of will to go on without her. It was disconcerting to think he had been so dependent on her emotionally. She was so very disappointed in him.

"Pull over," she said in a hush tone.

To his right was a motel with a flashing vacancy sign.

"Turn in baby," she said lovingly to him.

Lying in bed was like she was all over him…and in him…a sensation unimaginable. It was as if she kissed him up and down his muscular body, controlling his every nuance of pleasure. He laid there drenched in sweat.

He awoke startled the next morning, fearing she might be gone. Faintly, he could still feel her presence.

Preparing to check out, Donovan noticed a crowd of people standing around in the motel lobby. A woman lay unconscious on the floor while paramedics used CPR techniques to revive her.

"Help her," Amanda told him.

He knelt beside the woman and began giving her mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, hoping he was doing it right.

"Okay, ready…hit!" one of the paramedics shouted as Donovan came up for a breath, removing his hands during the defibrillation. After the second jolt, he pinched the woman's nose and breathed into her mouth once again. This time it drained him for a moment and then he heard the woman gasp. She began breathing again on her own.

He stood up and walked outside the motel lobby no longer feeling Amanda's presence. He thought it was just like her to spend their last moments together helping someone she didn't even know.

She was gone.

As he began to walk to his car, he heard the woman calling out to him, "Wait!" He went back in and knelt to her side.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yes."

"I didn't get your name. My name is Donovan!"

"Yes I know," she said taking his hand in hers looking fondly at him as she whispered in his ear, "It's me, Amanda!"

Stunned, Donovan looked intently into her eyes as she thoughtfully inquired, "So, how do I look as a blonde?"

"Beautiful! You're gorgeous princess!" Donovan said crying.

Beeeep—Beeeep—Beeeep—Beeeep—Beeeep—Beeeep—Beeeep—Beeeep—Beeeep—Beeeep—Beeeep

It was an annoying sound. I had just started to drift-off to.…somewhere…but just had to say something about it.

"Can you shut that thing up, Doc?"

"Sure, Joe," Doctor Caruther's voice was soothing, practiced. The beeping stopped with a click.

Good.

"It won't be much longer now."

I wasn't sure if he was talking to me, or to my daughter and son. Both were there when I closed my eyes. I started drifting again when a thought struck me and I eased back toward consciousness. People would ask: "Were there any last words?" Well, can you shut that thing up are pretty lame Last Words, in my opinion.

"Little Suzy Skitterbutt," my voice croaked. It was my pet name for my daughter, my first child, and the absolute love of my life. A great-grandmother herself, and an old lady now. But in my mind she was that pale, soft little thing smiling up at me from the table, naked as an egg, feet high and spread wide, giggling when I blew on her round, smooth belly.

She giggled again, and I felt her warm hand squeeze mine.

That did it. That was enough. I could go now.

The doctors called it systemic organ failure, but that's just a fancy term for good, old-fashioned, old age. I'd had ninety-seven years of very good health. I kept both my wits and my teeth to the very end. And now it was time to move on.

I let myself drift…

WELL IT'S ABOUT GODDAMN TIME.

What? Who said that?

YOU HEARD ME? GOOD. IT MEANS IT'S ALMOST OVER. YOUR LIFE, THAT IS.

Who are you?

FUNNY. I'VE BEEN LIVING IN YOUR HEAD FOR EIGHTY-FIVE YEARS, BUT I GUESS WE'VE NEVER REALLY BEEN FORMALLY INTRODUCED. MY NAME IS BORBBLEMDLFRBSHMOB. BOB, FOR SHORT.

Must be oxygen deprivation to the brain. I'm hallucinating.

NOPE JOE. I'M REAL ENOUGH.

Who…What are you?

SINCE YOU CAN HEAR ME, I GUESS IT WON'T DO ANY HARM TO EXPLAIN. REMEMBER BACK IN THIRTY-THREE, WHEN YOU WERE TWELVE AND YOU AND CLIVE WENT CAMPING BEHIND MILLER'S BARN?

Uh…yeah. Yes I do.

YOU BOTH WOKE-UP WITH HEADACHES AND SNIFFLES SO YOU BOTH WENT HOME?

And?

HAVE YOU NOTICED THAT YOU HAVEN'T BEEN SICK A DAY, SINCE THEN? EVEN BACK IN THE WAR WHEN ALL YOUR BUDDIES GOT DYSENTERY FROM BAD WATER, YOU DIDN'T GET IT?

That was strange, now that you mention it. I thought it was just good luck.

GOOD LUCK, AND ABOUT A BILLION NANOBOTS KILLING THE AMOEBAS IN THE WATER AS FAST AS THEY COULD.

Nanobots?

YEAH JOE, YOU'RE SWARMING WITH THEM. HAVE BEEN SINCE YOU HAD THOSE SNIFFLES. IT TOOK YOUR BODY A LITTLE WHILE TO ADJUST TO THEM.

Wouldn't that show on a blood test, or something?

WELL, YEAH THEY WOULD, IF I WAS DUMB ENOUGH TO LET SOME OF THEM GET SAMPLED. I CONTROL THEIR MOVEMENTS AND YOU NEVER GOT A BLOOD TEST YOU WEREN'T EXPECTING, NOW HAVE YOU?

My God, I've been donating blood since Forty-One!

SAME THING, JOE. IF I KNEW IT WAS COMING, I'D HAVE 'EM HIDE SOMEWHERE'S ELSE. I'M NOT STUPID, YOU KNOW. BESIDES, I CAN'T MAKE MORE. CAN'T AFFORD TO LOOSE THEM FOR ANY LITTLE THING. YOU'VE BLED A LOT OUT OVER THE YEARS, BUT THERE'S STILL PLENTY LEFT. THEY'LL DISASSEMBLE THEMSELVES ONCE YOU'VE KICKED AND I'M OUT OF HERE.

So…you're what, King Of The Nanobots?

YOU'RE A RIOT, JOE. NO, I USE THE NANOS TO KEEP YOU HEALTHY, BUT I'M A cVIRCH, A VIRTUAL LIFE FORM. CALL ME A COMPUTER-GENERATED PERSON. IT'S ABOUT AS CLOSE AS I CAN COME TO EXPLAINING IT TO YOU. I DON'T KNOW ANY WORDS THAT YOU DON'T KNOW.

I never heard the word BORBBLEMDLFRBSHMOB, before.

GOOD POINT. THING IS IT'S NOT REALLY MY NAME, IT'S JUST AS CLOSE AS I CAN COME TO IT IN A FORMAT YOU'D UNDERSTAND. CLIVE WAS INHABITED BY A dVIRCH, THAT'S A DOWNLOADED ORGANIC PERSON WHO'S DOING A STINT IN VIRTUAL FOR REASONS OF HER OWN. HE'D BE KICKIN' ABOUT NOW, TOO, IF HE'D LIVED.

His foxhole took a direct hit from a German Eighty-Eight outside of Bastogne, back in Forty-Five.

YEP. NANOS ARE GOOD FOR CANCERS AND VIRUSES AND SUCH. NO MATCH FOR ARTILLERY, THOUGH. I BET STRANVIEN IS PISSED THAT I GOT TO RIDE THE FULL RIDE AND SHE WENT HOME EARLY.

So how'd you two…uh…get here? In our minds, that is.

PRETTY MUCH HOW YOU THINK. TINY LITTLE SPACESHIP, SIZE OF A BASEBALL. IMPLANTED ABOUT A PICOGRAM OF COMPUTRONIUM AND THE NANOS RIGHT UP YOUR NOSE. THAT'S WHERE I LIVE, BASICALLY. IT'S THE STUFF THAT MAKES ALL THIS POSSIBLE. ENOUGH STORAGE SPACE FOR A WHOLE PERSONALITY WITH PLENTY TO SPARE FOR LEARNING NEW THINGS.

That's…that's immoral! Isn't it?

NOT WHERE I COME FROM. BESIDES, YOU'D HAVE DIED OF LIVER CANCER BACK AROUND NINETY-FIVE. WE DON'T TAKE ANYTHING WE DON'T PAY FOR. I'LL UPLOAD JUST AS SOON AS YOU KICK.

Why are you here? Some sort of spy?

HELL NO, JOE. I'M A cVIRCH. THAT MEANS I'M A CONSTRUCT. I'VE NEVER LIVED AS ANYTHING ELSE. I WAS CONSTRUCTED INSIDE WHAT IS BASICALLY A REALLY BIG COMPUTER, THOUGH THE WORD DOESN'T DO IT JUSTICE. IT KEEPS US AROUND BECAUSE IT STUDIES ALL KINDS OF LIFE, ALL THE TIME. I JUST WANTED TO SEE WHAT IT WAS LIKE TO LIVE AN ORGANIC LIFE IN REAL TIME.

Hope you weren't disappointed.

DON'T TAKE THIS WRONG, JOE. I MEAN, THERE WERE SOME NEAT THINGS. SEX IS INTERESTING, THOUGH I WISH YOU'D GOTTEN LAID MORE. THE WAR, ESPECIALLY WHEN YOU KILLED THAT KRAUT WITH YOUR SHOVEL, THAT WAS COOL. I LIKED YOUR KIDS WHEN THEY WERE LITTLE.

But…

WELL JOE, I GOTTA' TELL 'YA.

YOUR LIFE…

Out with it, Bob.

MOST BORING VACATION EVER!

From the cave entrance Zhiyuan looked out across the desert plain. The mountains, just a short distance beyond, were painted maroon by the fading light of Arun's sun. The wind suggested a storm was coming. But the ground seemed to be calling to him. He felt a connection now that was more than imagined, a connection to this arid planet that was not his home.

"If Dr. Suen and his scientists had their way, I'd have missed this… this perfect day," he thought. The sky was a striking blue, reminiscent of Earth and the air was clear except for a hint of dust. "I'd have been cooped up in a room at the hospital in Settler City from the moment I joined with the Crown Spore. This is better," he told himself. He looked at the Fel who was standing behind him, its huge rock-like hands outstretched, like some midwife trying to fathom the progress of the joining he was undergoing. It stared at him with tiny eyes, its face like a hippopotamus. "Soon the spore will speak, my friend, and you will better understand," it said in gravelly Felese. Zhiyuan smiled and tried not to think of Huan.

For two years he had led the type of life he imagined ancient monks had on Earth millennia ago. In silence he had meditated within this cave complex preparing his mind and body in the ways of the Fel. According to them, he needed to purge his animal instincts. There were no luxuries and no distractions, and he had subsisted mostly on a Fel diet. That had been the hardest. He often wondered if he was up to this at his age. But this was his chance to accomplish something truly amazing. As ambassador he had pushed the Fel into agreeing to this. Fel spent a lifetime preparing for the joining, but he promised them he could be ready in two years. If successful, he could assure humans an advantage on this planet that two generations of diplomacy hadn't eked out. It would assure a place here that humans desperately needed.

When he first saw the plant the spore came from, Zhiyuan had thought it looked like a giant cactus. He felt the lump on the back of his neck where the spore had been implanted. It had grown to the size of an orange. He tried to visualize its tendrils growing through his body and his hand went to the vine-like ridges that had formed under the skin of his skull. He welcomed it and had long been desensitized to any aversion to it. The joining of the Fel and the Crown Spore had produced vastly superior beings, with intelligence that surpassed humans. The Crown Spore had the ability to keep the Fel alive long past their natural lifespan, while the Fel provided the Crown Spore with hands and feet, the tools to build a civilization. But their population was small, and slow growing, and when humans arrived on Arun in search of space to settle, the Fel were fearful of a race that it couldn't help but see as fast-breeding invaders.

"Ambassador, how are you feeling," a voice asked from behind. It was Dr. Tai. "Thank the gods it's not Huan's shift," Zhiyuan thought.

"I'm fine. I think it will happen soon. I'm surprised Dr. Suen isn't here himself."

Tai checked Zhiyuan's vitals. "He would have been, but the Fel have been very protective in these last stages. They are only allowing one visitor at a time and Dr. Suen thought it best that the medical doctors should be here as opposed to the xenologists."

"I didn't know he cared that much about my health," Zhiyuan said. It was no secret that Dr. Suen had wanted to be the one to undergo the joining.

"I don't think he does," Tai said with a chuckle, "But he wants to get as much data as possible. You know… for the next time."

Zhiyuan looked back out across the plain.

"Oh," Tai whispered as he finished up, "Lin Huan said she wishes you well, Ambassador. I think she has a crush."

Zhiyuan exhaled slowly and closed his eyes. He pictured Huan's face. Youthful and bright, Dr. Suen had added her to the rotation of doctors seeing him in the last six months. He couldn't stop thinking about her; it was like he was a boy again. "Like a teenaged fool," he told himself, "Or an old one rather." Perhaps it was just the isolation.

And then it happened. It was as simple as a flower blooming, or the sun rising. The Crown Spore and Zhiyuan made contact. And within that moment he was no longer apart from Arun. And he realized for the first time that the dust in the air, the ubiquitous dust he had inhaled with every breath of the last two years, was laden with microscopic spores.

All Crown Spores were essentially cloned beings, the product of asexual reproduction. But what the Fel had kept hidden was that the plant was a collective intelligence and the tiny spores in the air allowed each Crown Spore to be connected with every other joined Fel on the planet. Zhiyuan now via his symbiont had a direct audience with that collective.

They spoke to Zhiyuan, first in impressions, then words in a chorus of his own voice. They read his memory and experiences and measured the man and his species. "We had no idea… you lie… you lie to yourself at every turn," the voices said. "You tell yourself your motives are honorable, but what do you truly seek? Personal ambition… to fulfill animal lusts… you try to cloak these in reason and logic… but you fail. What did you do to your own planet? You are an infestation."

For two years he had prepared, in two minutes they had passed judgment. Zhiyuan continued to stare at the distant mountains, the beautiful mountains, as tears ran down his weary face.