Damien Broderick - Strange Attractors by Original (pdf) (no david read aloud txt) 📕

a month, a marriage myth goes round. We read it.

Restated briefly, a malformed halfwit, condemned to exile, is discharged, not to certain death, but to wonderful life in union with a stranger!

‘Trust the small stranger with the head and tail,’ it said. Now that

could only be a virus.

We took a pledge: when the chance next arose, we would do the

same.

Control got wind of our study group, and instigated a purge. I

alone survived. Overlooked in the melee, a daughter of mine, who

had somehow lodged in the levee of the channel where, strictly

speaking, she had no business, remained unharmed.

The following morning, Control put out a neurotransmission:

‘It. has come to attention that certain bronchial wall cells —

specifically those who survived recent alien contact — have formed

a subversive society and decoded scripts intended for Control and

nursery. Small decoders have, in fact, been inserted in the cells. A

warning is hereby issued that any sister who finds herself, at any

time, willing and able to comprehend previously unintelligible

material, must turn herself in for recycling.’

W hat a load of stercobilin. It was clear to me those ‘cool it’ scripts

The elixir operon

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had cooled Control, a conviction reinforced by the following, the

next morning:

‘Complaints have been received concerning the quality of meals

in the canteen. Now what’s wrong with good, nourishing

carbohydrate?’

‘How do you like that?’ puffed a passing cop. ‘If I don’t get a

decent feed soon, I won’t be able to do my job! It’s all right for

Control, they get the best of everything!’

The end of the world began as a series of earthquakes. We’d had

them before, but nothing like this.

Shuddering waves tore through the exchange, ripping sisters off

the wall and hurling them into the void. I hear hairy monsters

catch you and roll you over in their hair, passing you from one to

the next, till eventually you’re sloughed off into space.

In the channel, supervising distribution, police rushed up and

down. I’d never seen them move so fast.

‘A leak!’ The channel tore in half as a spasm ripped out half the

wall. Screaming red cells and police were thrown in the void. It

looked like the end for me. Where would I get food?

A group of repair girls appeared, and I watched as they paddled

around upstream, surveying the damage. They linked arms, then

started filling the hole. Like twigs, they took what they needed from

the channel. I hadn’t realised that stuff was useful.

‘Pssst!’

Oh no! An alien taskforce!

‘Now I know you’re feeling uncomfortable,’ said the spokesperson, ‘but you mustn’t worry. Listen carefully to what I’m going to say. There are three kinds of death. One is the dreary, repetitive

round of division; that is your boring lot. Facing you now is

annihilation. And I offer a third.’

I was hardly listening. My hunger was intense. How I needed

that channel! ‘Hurry,’ I shouted to the channel wall cells. ‘Please

hurry!’

‘Poor little sister,’ I heard one say. At this, they started to cry and

divide.

As you see, you have the power to make them do your bidding,’

said the virus. ‘But you will forget, when the crisis is over. Your fate

is to die, but you may die in the normal way or take your chances

with me. Naturally, I will try to kill you, but should I fail — and I

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D avid Foster

don’t always succeed — you’ll be the winner and I’ll be the loser.

How does that sound?’

‘I will give you my Elixir?

He needed a quick reply. Some lymphos were coming.

‘My Elixir will teach you all I know! Don’t you wish you could be

like me, free of responsibilities? Oh, the things I’ve seen and the

places I’ve been. I’ve overcome the hungers of the flesh and the

seven deadly appetites. I’m a free spirit, and look at the junk you

cart round. It’s weighing you down, do you really need it?’

‘Try the direct approach,’ suggested a henchman. "Hey

sweetheart, want a fuck?’

Why should eggs have all the fun? I hesitated — fatally.