Archive for the ‘Edd Vick’ Category
The Six Degrees of Marcus Sansome
Monday, May 28th, 2007
It’s really beyond the purview of this narrative to tell you how the alien got into Marcus Sansome’s body. Suffice to say it involved a meteorite, a nearsighted chicken, a national chain of grocery stores you’d certainly recognize, and two eggs he cooked over easy with bacon and an english muffin.
The alien ate Marcus Sansome from the inside, growing carbon nanotube tendrils through his body to manipulate his fingers, his mouth, his neck and back and legs. The alien’s distributed memory recorded everything it found: Sansome’s DNA and the nucleotides of which it was composed, his cell structure, the varied compositions and purposes of his many organs. Reaching his brain, the alien slowed to savor its complexity, to encompass its entirety. Holographs reproduced its synaptic structure, and the alien spent delicious microseconds unravelling as much as it could of Sansome’s memories, his sensory perceptions, his thinking processes.
Tendrils reached the limits of Marcus Sansome’s body, and encountered anomalies. Hair and nails, dead tissue, were they part of this body or not? The alien consulted the analogue it had built of his self-image. Yes, it thought, and pushed air from Sansome’s lungs to say it out loud in a breathy whisper. “Me.”
Clothing presented the next challenge. Their construction differed from that of Marcus Sansome’s body, and there were many anomalous substances in them. Yet they obviously served as a second skin. Once more the alien referred to its reconstruction of his brain. Then, satisfied, tubes furcated a million times, assimilating cloth and leather. “My clothes,” said Sansome’s voice.
Why stop there? The alien found in Marcus Sansome’s consciousness the concept of possessions. Ownership extended to this house, to these furnishings, to all these belongings. Tendrils grew from the soles of Sansome’s shoes to spread throughout the house, interpenetrating and cataloguing all they found. “All mine,” the alien made him say, in a tone approaching wonder.
The doorbell rang. The alien heard it with Marcus Sansome’s ears and felt it from inside the bell. It swiveled the body’s head and made it walk to the door. Thousands of tubes parted as the body lifted each foot, thousands connected for the second his foot again touched the carpet. He turned the knob, pulled. Outside the door stood a being. The alien consulted Sansome’s memory once more. Then, delighted, it extended a hand.
“My friend!” it said.
All My Stories
Tuesday, May 15th, 2007
Now you have heard my story of the zebra who sold his stripes to an elephant.
And you know the story of Polaris, who was a starfish before the King of the North granted his wish.
And you know that the wolf howls at the moon because he stays up all night and is too tired to howl at the sun.
You know all my stories, like why the dragons are all living in volcanoes and where the Phoenix hides in Arizona.
And you know what Sleeping Beauty dreamed about.
And you know why her daughter was named Matilda Jane.
Now, you know about the owl who lost to himself at chess.
And you know about the quarrel between Summer and Winter.
And you know about the time Thursday wanted to come before Tuesday.
You have heard the tale of the King of the Bakers who traded his crown for a cake made of rainbows.
And you know why evergreen trees don’t change color.
And you know where the lioness lost her mane.
Now, you’ve heard why turtles and pies have shells and why skunks and alarm clocks don’t.
And you know about the cowboy who roped the moon.
And you know about the hunter who snared his own shadow.
That is all of my stories. I have no more. If you don’t believe me then I’ll tell you a little tale why.