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

Mother, ‘we can’t do that, the master wouldn’t

like it! And how come, if you’re my daughter, you don’t agree with

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D avid Foster

everything I say?’

This ‘master’, I might add, is a figment of her imagination.

I suppose we never had much in common. M other and T. Given

the gravity of the situation, I decided she had to go. It was her or

me.

So I did a deal with the neighbours: all the food I could eat, and I

would take care of Mother. They agreed, and after I’d taken care of

Mother, I took care of them.

Then I began to divide. I grew to about a million cells, when I

struck a difficulty: too far from the channel!

It was clear I had to divert the channel in my direction. There’s

no point talking to idiots. The way you save idiots from themselves

is through direct action. I never much cared for idle speculation,

I’ve seen the damage it can do.

Here was a practical problem. If I could supply myself with a

channel of my own, I’d have solved that problem.

‘Hey, sisters dear,’ I said to the cells of the channel wall. ‘How

about a move in my direction?’

They’re pretty sluggish, and rather stupid. But they ignored me,

so I killed a few, on a trial basis. I made small holes in the walls, to

try to force some channel growth, but the channel just renewed

itself.

3

We were close to the end! Mother had the notion you can fight your

way out of any situation, but you have to use your head. We were

fighting on all fronts, keeping the neighbours in check, destroying

channel walls, and waging a losing battle against the police and the

parasites.

M other was a great fighter, but I couldn’t stand by and see our

Elixir, the only hope of the world, destroyed! So I made a deal with

some lymphocytes; in return for safe passage to another section of

the wall, I would give them M other’s measurements: she passed for

normal when it suited her. She called me some dreadful things as

the killers went to work, but at least our Elixir was safe. Individual

lives count for nothing.

When it was over, the cops came back to get me, as I’d expected: I

was already dividing, and my measurements aren’t quite the same

as M other’s.

The elixir operon

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They searched for a while, but soon lost interest. Morale in the

force was low.

One cell can make a million through force; thereafter, guile is

needed.

I made my first million, and sat back to think. How could I

persuade the channel to branch my way?

What do we know about the cells of the channel wall? I resolved to

study them. Why do they divide? To repair damage, when tissue is

hurt. But there had to be another factor, and I had to find it.

W hat is the motivation of these channel wall cells? Do they have

peculiarities? They seemed simple, kindhearted folk, easy to

exploit. W hat do they like? I might be able to simulate what they

liked.

I saw one cry once, during battle. Could that be a clue? Though

not involved in battle herself, she cried. If only I knew what made

them cry.

W hen the police eventually came round, looking for shirkers, I

suppose my first inclination was to fight. But isn’t this where we fail

every time? Violence solves nothing.

Remember the myth of the beautiful beast! Conquer fear!

Attempt the impossible.

A lymphocyte pulled a daughter of mine from the wall and

started to eat her.

‘Master,’ I prayed, ‘please help me!’

Next thing I knew, I was crying like a child. I felt so ashamed, but

I just couldn’t help it.

Above the raucous jeering of the police, I heard another sound.

‘Leave those kids alone,’ said a voice. ‘Yeah, leave those kids alone,’

said another voice. ‘Pick on someone your own age!’

The cells of the channel wall were speaking! They hardly ever

spoke. W hat was I doing to attract their attention? Was it my crying? It was! I made myself as infantile as possible. ‘Goo goo goo,’ I said to the police. The channel wall went ga-ga.

‘Steady on, girls,’ said the chief of police, ‘you’re not going to fall

for the oldest trick in the book! Show some discrimination! This is

no baby, this is a tumour. Can’t you tell the difference?’

‘Leave that kid alone,’ came the answer.

‘She was invaded by a virus,’ said the chief. ‘Many moons ago, of

course, but . . . ’

‘Poor little darling,’ retorted a wall cell. ‘Imagine what she’s