Transformations

by Anthea Strezze

  On the morning of the second day, observers noticed a tremor pass through the incursion, and a pause in its advance.

  "What did you do? What caused that?" Everyone was asking the same questions, trying to identify why the mass had paused, and whether that same something could stop it entirely. None of them had an answer, though.

  All tests were halted while they evaluated which method to proceed with, so it was with great surprise that they saw the spore-body shudder again an hour later, and then start vibrating with a slow, gentle, rocking motion.

  None of the other incursions had vibrated or rocked, or even paused in their expansion, and the observers were baffled. They set up even more sensors and cameras, and sent extra surveillance flights high overhead to seek the source of the disturbance. Thus, they were perfectly situated to see it when letters, each the size of a football field, appeared on the surface of the spore body.

  "TAKE TO OTHER BODIES. NO HARM," they read. Beneath the letters was a wide arrowhead, its point just touching the edge of the spore-body, and at that point, two beach ball-sized masses detached themselves from the main body and rolled a couple of feet before coming to rest on the dirt.

  No one wanted to believe it, because no one could explain how an alien fungus could communicate using plain English and block letters, let alone why the alien fungus would send such a message.

  Was this a ploy to conquer the planet faster? It didn't seem to be having any trouble doing that all on its own. Had it run into something in Florida that it needed help from the other spore bodies to overcome? If so, how could they find out what it was and use it against them?

  While the debate raged, another object started to descend from the body in orbit, its trajectory taking it towards the open ocean well off the coast of California. Another ball detached itself from the main Florida body and rolled to rest next to the others. At the same time, the planes flying surveillance overhead observed a new message, replacing the first.

  "HURRY IT UP YOU IDIOTS! SAVE PLANET," the new message read. A few minutes later, more words formed below the message. "-TILDA PRICE, KISSIMMEE, FL 34747"

  While the observers and officials were still reacting to the new messages, another one was forming, the image instantly transmitted by the surveillance planes.

  "TELL DENNY HE'S A DOUCHEBAG," the new message read, closely followed by, "TELL MY KIDS I LOVE THEM."

  Half an hour later, all the messages disappeared, replaced by five even larger words: "NOW SAVE THE DAMN PLANET!"

  It was enough. Tilda Price's identity was verified, and her son and daughter interviewed at length. The balls were carefully collected and, after the Indonesian incursion swallowed up the first one and then stopped its advance, the others were sent to England and the new incursion floating in the Pacific.

  Five more times, spores fell from the sky, and five more balls detached from the Florida incursion to be placed in the anticipated landing zones. Each time, the spore cloud touched ground, started to grow, and then stopped its expansion, staying within the perimeter it had already claimed. The fifth time, it was the main body, now much diminished, which had fallen, and after that there were no more attacks from the sky.

  No more messages appeared either.

  ***

  In the months that followed, and in spite of attempts at quarantine, the scientists studying the spore-bodies discovered Earth organisms colonizing them, eating and being eaten, sheltering and being sheltered in, and carrying spores away with them into the surrounding environment.

  Before long, the areas the spore bodies had consumed were green as well as orange, and while alien orange was showing up in strange places all over the world, it no longer wiped out everything in its path. Instead, the spores integrated into the ecologies of the world, competing for old niches while creating new ones. Several Earth species went extinct, but many more adapted, and thrived.

  Humans were forced to adapt too, as new pests evolved to eat their plastics and oil, new parasites attacked their bodies and domestic animals, and things that used to be easy became hard again. They survived though, and in time they discovered new materials to build things with, and new compounds to heal themselves with.

  In Florida, where a forest of orange and green trees had grown up, visitors often reported experiencing a deep sense of satisfaction and well-being.

  See, the spore-body thought silently to herselves, I told you we would find a way.

  ~~*~~

  Final Words

  I hope you will be able to read this, she wrote. Mossy was able to read, though none of us really knew how. About half of the mice who survived respond to visual stimuli, so I hope that you will be able to read. If not, I hope that those who find you will read this and welcome you on my behalf.

  She looked around the lab, abandoned for the weekend. She had draped the windows with heavy blankets to keep anyone from seeing the light and interrupting her. If she was going to do this, it had to be now, when her daughter would have the whole long weekend to develop. And it should be soon, but there was still so much to say. Choosing her final words was so much more difficult than she had expected. What should she write next - the how? The why?

  Ferdinand and I always wanted children. That's right, this was her child that she was writing to. What comfort would that child need, in the days and years to come?

  We tried for years, but then there was the miscarriage, and the lab accident. We had discussed in vitro fertilization, but I didn't have a sperm sample when he died, or even any unchanged cells from which to attempt a clone. Ferdinand was gone, and only Mossy remained.

  She smiled, remembering how she and Mossy had come to know each other, and eventually to love each other. How gentle he had been when she railed at him for Ferdinand's death. How surprised she was the first time he made her laugh. The odd bits of memory he had salvaged from Ferd's brain, which paradoxically made him seem less like a copy of Ferd, and more like his own individual self.

  I know that our friends thought I was just transferring my feelings for Ferdinand onto Mossy, but it's not true. And although he could never replace Ferd, I came to love him just as much. He was an individual, as you will be, apart and separate from the man that came before him. We couldn't marry due to his questionable legal status, but we were married in my heart. My only regret was that we couldn't have children.

  Not in the normal way, at least. She smiled at the row of syringes lined up next to her, each filled with the same deep green suspension of Mossy's micorrhiza. Soon, it would be time.

  Not in the normal way, at least. Now that I have lost two husbands, I cannot bear the idea that nothing of either will remain. Children are our connection with the future, and our love made manifest. They combine the genetic legacy of their parents into a new entity, a new identity, and carry that legacy on when their parents are gone. In that way, you are truly my daughter. Mine and Mossy's.

  She leaned back in her chair, remembering the day she had found her hope. It was less than a week after the explosion, and she had been cleaning out Mossy's area of the lab. In the back of the mini-fridge, there were three vials, filled with viscous green fluid. He must have taken the samples from himself for later analysis, but now it was all that remained of him in the world.

  She had shouted, held up a vial for everyone else to see. "Look, blood samples! We can bring Mossy back!"

  Greg had been the one to pull her aside and dash her hopes. If she hadn't been so grief-stricken, she would have realized it herself, of course. She wished she had; her brother was a blunt man by nature, and the discussion had been painful.

  "You can't bring him back," he said, trying to meet her eyes but glancing away almost immediately.

  "But I have his cells," she said, "I didn't have anything left of Ferdinand, but this time it's different."

  "How is it different? A clone wouldn't have his memories, his personality. And that's if you even can create a clone. He only looked human because his mycorrhiza colonized a human
body. He only had human intelligence, and language, and... anything, because of the neural structures preserved from Ferdinand's brain. You always said that Mossy was his own person, a distinct individual. So what are you going to do? Infect a human cadaver? Infect a living human? You'd kill someone and still not get him back, because it wouldn't be Mossy. It would be a different person."

  She had been heartbroken, but she knew he was right. She wiped away a tear at the memory, and bent over her letter again.

  I wish I could meet you. I wish I could hold you, and tell you how much I love you. But Greg was right - using Mossy's mycorrhiza on human cadavers wouldn't bring him back, and wouldn't give me a true child. Besides, my experiments with the mice indicate that successful conversion can only occur with a live host. And there is only one host for you, my darling daughter - only one possible host that would let you be my daughter. I will have to hope that my sacrifice is proof enough of my love for you, even though I won't be here to care for you in person.

  She looked around the room, thinking about all the challenges that might face her daughter, that she would not be there to comfort her through or protect her from.

  I wasn't sure what to do with the surviving mice, she wrote. But perhaps they might be a comfort to you, if you are ever lonely. They are your own kind, although they don't have the neural structure to ever be more than pets and companions. You can find them in cage 5B - the green fur should make it obvious which ones they are.

  She tapped her fingers on the "Last Will and Testament" she had already prepared and taped securely to the desk. It was clearly written, but legalese was such a sterile medium for communicating one's real wishes. On the other hand, Greg was almost sure to read the letter, and it couldn't hurt to include a roundabout message for him.

  Greg will probably be the first one to find you. You can trust him. He is your uncle, and the executor of my will. He will take care of you - out of love for me if nothing else. I hope that in time, he will also come to love you for yourself, but be patient. Losing me will be hard on him, and I am sorry for that. Still, if I don't do this, then you will never exist. And I want you to exist, my lovely, beloved daughter.

  It was time. She could go on for pages and pages if she let herself, but she had said all the most important things. She turned the gas on and made the first injection in her left leg, quickly followed by another in her right leg, then one in each arm and two more deep into her belly. She felt dizzy from the pain, but she paused on the verge of making the final injection, looking fuzzily at the sheet of paper before her. There was still something missing, something vitally important. She was so glad she had noticed before it was too late.

  She scrawled two more words, then thrust the syringe into her carotid artery and sent the final dose of mycorrhizal cells flooding towards her brain. She slumped forward, a gentle smile on her face as she thought of her daughter, and then she thought no more.

  Her limp hand fell away from her neck and came to rest on the letter, next to her last two words.

  Love, Mom.

  ~~*~~

  More by this Author

  Short Story Collections by Anthea Strezze

  Refuge: Tales from a Zombie Apocalypse

  If the dead started to rise and attack the living, would you go running around with a shotgun, blowing off undead heads? Or would you just try to get on with life, as best you can?

  Seven short stories about normal people living in extraordinary times - without the action-movie clichés.

  The Trouble with Wishes

  Everyone wishes sometimes - for things to be different, or easier, or better. But when a wish is granted, can you ever get what you really want?

  Five short stories about wishes granted - or not - to amuse a being of power rather than to fulfill the wisher's desire.

  Zombie Variations

  Zombies - ravening, mindless monsters? Or just misunderstood?

  Three short stories from the zombie's point of view, and three very different types of zombies.

  Transformations

  If it meant destroying who you are now, could you take the leap of faith, to find out who you might become?

  Includes "Changing Course" and "Final Words."

  Science Fiction by A. L. Strezze

  On Ice

  An interplanetary surveyor wakes up in a cave, on an uninhabited planet, to the sound of purring... and screams of agony.

  Can Jade survive long enough to find out what went wrong?

  Bones of Ice

  Stranded on an uninhabited planet, Jade's only hope is to survive long enough for colonists to arrive and send her home. But what if they're not coming?

  ~~*~~

  About the Author

  Anthea Strezze believes in nurturing the sense of wonder, and strives to write stories that her readers can really connect with and find echoes of themselves and their lives in. She's just as likely to write a story about werewolves washing dishes as mages doing battle with ancient evil (more likely, actually), and loves writing both mundane stories with a taste of the fantastic, and fantastic stories with a hint of the mundane. She lives in New England with her husband and cat, and maintains a blog at https://AntheaStrezze.com/blog.