Daisy Jacobs Saves the World

by Gary Hindhaugh

  More than that, though, she looks almost haggard with worry. Looking at your mum and seeing her tired or upset is one thing; seeing outright fear is quite something else. This is Mum; she’s practically Wonder Woman! She’s really strong, so it’s extra frightening to see her look scared! There’s no way in the world she can guess what’s happening to me — because that is literally out of this world. But I know she realises it’s something serious. I wish she could help, but I know with absolute certainty she can’t. Frankly, the fact that she’ll be there for me if and when I get out of this is comfort enough right now.

  Chapter 30

  ME, MYSELF & I

  You were very rude to Mum, Quark,” said the voice in Daisy’s head.

  Quark sighed. The girl will not shut up with her incessant nagging!

  They’re in the bathroom again, looking into the mirror. Quark ignored Daisy as he swished her hair from her eyes, tilting her head this way and that and pouting at the reflection. He still doesn’t respond.

  “You hurt her feelings,” Daisy continued.

  Quark said nothing.

  “Okay, I get that, in some warped way, trashing my reputation is a strategy; one way of — as you see it — achieving your evil aim. It won’t work; it makes me sad, but it also makes me determined to fight you harder. And I see why you think it could be an effective strategy with a person who some might see as … a goody-goody, maybe a bit of a rule-follower.”

  This time there’s a slight grunt from Quark.

  “But insulting my Mum is way, way below the belt, Quark. There have to be rules in this and that comment was both hurtful and wrong.”

  Quark thought Daisy was making a reasonable point, but can in no way admit this, because … because why? Because it would be too straightforward. It would be to admit guilt; an error. A fault in his stars, to quote a book that’s being discussed in English lessons at school. And he doesn’t think accepting a reasonable argument is what a teenager would do. So he grunted again.

  “Quark, have you nothing to say in your defence?”

  “Gwalgf”, he said, and spat out toothpaste. “I am brushing your teeth, Daisy. Trying to take care of your body.”

  “Oh, sorry, thank you.”

  There’s silence as Quark rinsed the toothpaste away and dried Daisy’s hands.

  Quark …”

  “Yes?”

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why are you brushing my teeth?”

  “Because we had pasta and garlic bread for dinner.”

  “I know — fettuccini is my favourite, and I didn’t even get to taste it! Was it good?”

  “It was nutritious.”

  “Nutritious! Alfredo and garlic bread have nothing to do with nutrition! It’s carb-overload. It’s comfort on a plate. It’s the very definition of happy-tummy food.”

  “Well, I ate the food and my — your — stomach is now full.”

  “Mum’s cooking is wasted on you! Like Dad’s curry over the weekend — and his veggie chilli too; I bet you’ve had that recently with the guacamole he makes — was that good?”

  “I have no recollection. It is all food. Sustenance. Fuel.”

  “Fuel! Aaaaaagh! You’re a philistine, Quark.”

  Quark simply shrugged and raised Daisy’s eyebrows in a particularly irritating ‘yeah, whatever’ kind of way.

  “Anyway, why did you brush my teeth?”

  “I told you, I ate —”

  “But that’s not a real reason.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re here to kill me.”

  “Daisy, we have talked about this. I am not here to —”

  “Yeah, yeah — yada, yada, yada.” Like a game of tag, it’s Daisy’s turn to be the teen in the conversation. “Make me become, execute me and my family, friends — everyone. Whatever you want to call it, that’s what it amounts to. Your use of the word become is like the ultimate cover story. Just a way of trying to mask your true intentions.”

  Quark placed Daisy’s hands on the edge of the sink, squared her shoulders and stared intently into the mirror. Daisy’s face is a mask of strained sincerity.

  “You are young, brave and —” he added, ruefully, “much stronger than your puny body would lend anyone to believe. Your questioning and your pushing at boundaries is interesting. If frustrating. You show promise, especially considering that you are at such an early stage of your evolution.”

  Daisy clearly sensed an opportunity. “Our world may be a little speck, lost in the enormity of space; it may seem insignificant to you, floating out there alone in all that inky blackness, but to me, to us, it’s home. And it’s full of life. Life that deserves the chance to grow and mature, to explore and to live. To be more. We don’t deserve to be cast into endless cosmic darkness.”

  “How many times have we talked about this now? I am not here to kill you. Yes, the conscious Daisy will go, but the essence of you — the molecules, the building blocks that make you will still be here. And —”

  “Stop!”

  “What?”

  “You said it: ‘the essence of me’. Well, my essence is right here — I’d tap my head now if you’d give me my body back — right here in my head. That’s me. That’s where I am. My brain is who I am. My personality, my hopes, my fears, my dreams, my spirit, my … soul. If I’m not conscious, I’m not here, I’m dead and gone. And that’s too soon. Having my constituent bits being ‘part of the universe’ is all well and good, but my molecules can’t go to Paris, discover a cure for cancer, write a book, fall in love — or even go for a walk in the park or eat Veggie Dippers.”

  Quark leaps on this. “Your molecules should not want to eat fast food! Don’t you think meals should be about more than imbibing as many calories as you can.”

  “Oh, well excuse me, Raymond Blanc! I just meant —” Daisy halts, her thought process interrupted. “Wait … Quark, was that a joke? Did you just make a joke?”

  “I don’t know, did I?”

  “I think you did, you just — wait … you just said ‘don’t’ too! That’s a contraction.”

  “What?”

  “An abbreviation.”

  “So?”

  “People do it all the time. It’s easy (see!), it’s natural — it’s … human.”

  “I repeat: so?”

  “You’ve never done that before. I do it — that is, Daisy does it — all the time. And I think that’s one reason why some people — those who know me best, like Mum, Dad and Amy — think there’s something wrong with me.”

  “Because I don’t use contractions?”

  “Yeah. It makes you sound stiff and stilted.”

  “And that is not a good thing? I thought you were a goody-goody?”

  He hears the tinkle of Daisy’s laughter in his head. “It might be a good thing for me if you don’t, but maybe not for you. And yes, I … may have a slight tendency for being honest and law-abiding and following the rules, but everyone uses contractions in day-to-day conversation. It’s informal. Chatty. Friendly.”

  “So … you are helping me?”

  “Quark, remember: ‘you’re’, not ‘you are’. And, yes … I am.”

  “Why? Because doing what you are now will help me be a better Daisy. Help me keep you at bay, locked inside.”

  There’s no response from Daisy.

  “So why would you consider doing this?”

  More silence from Daisy.

  “Ah, you are regretting helping me, aren’t you!? You think you have made a mistake. A tactical error. Your silence has come too late. I can use this against you now, can I not? I mean, can’t I?! See! I am learning, I am becoming more Daisy now. More human.”

  Daisy has nothing to say about this.

  “It embarrasses you, this slip up. Does it not? I mean doesn’t it?”

  Yet more silence.

  “Aaaagh!” Quark finds it so irrit
ating when she just absents herself in the middle of a conversation. “Adolescents are infuriating!” There’s a flash of something in Daisy’s eyes — surprise, pain, anguish even. But it’s gone before Quark is even fully aware of it. And Daisy’s face was blank once more; her mouth firmly set.

  But just for a moment, he’d thought about something else too. Something that made him feel distinctly uncomfortable. Something connected to brushing her teeth. To taking care of this human.

  “Well, you are tenacious, I will give you that; and meddling too.” He stared sullenly at the mirror. “And you think you are clever, but I think this was unwise of you — an error. And I’m sorry you cannot admit you have made a major mistake. I am sorry you do not see that this will lead to humanity’s destruction and the downfall of your carefully laid plans. You might think you were being cunning, but I do not think so. This is a little step, but it is a step on the way to helping you to see more of who I really am. How I fit in. How I can be ‘more’ as Daisy Jacobs than mere molecules.”

  Quark’s learning about contractions, about how real people speak. And, slowly, he’s starting to experience what it is to be human. But he has not yet learnt the meaning of irony.

  Chapter 31

  WHAT A PIECE OF WORK IS MAN

  It is hard to know what is in and what is out,” Quark says.

  “What do you mean?” I’ve let him stew overnight so the thoughts I left him with could percolate for a while. Now, as ‘we’ get ready for school, it looks like we’re also ready for the next lesson in How to be a Human.

  “Well — when I said that bad thing to your mother, I did not mean it. I was not aware I was even thinking it. I mean, what do I know about fashion? I can tell you about the abundant energy in space — for example most of the space between planets, stars and moons is cold and dark, but space is full of electromagnetic energy. Every star —”

  “Okay, Quark, I get it, you can —”

  “— produces energy and planets and moons reflect the energy back.”

  “Yes, Quark, I see —”

  “The planets also release energy from —”

  “OKAY!”

  “What? Oh, yes, what was I saying? That’s right — I know about space, but I do not know the first thing about human clothes or correct behaviour. It was never necessary before.”

  “Well, it is now.”

  “Okaaay!” he says with an exaggeration that made me smile. “And I am learning. Anyway,” he continues, “the image of those words, that phrase, passed through my head and the words apparently came out.”

  “Oh yes, I can confirm: they definitely came out!”

  I see myself nod in the mirror as Quark ruefully agrees with me.

  “Apologise to her.”

  “But I did not mean it.”

  “You still need to apologise.”

  “Even though —”

  “If you hurt someone’s feelings and get the chance to say you’re sorry, take that chance. In fact, sometimes you should apologise for things you don’t do at all.”

  “But why?”

  “To make the other person feel better.”

  “But if you’re not in the wrong …?”

  “Then they’ll feel better and you’ll feel righteous. And in the greater scheme of things, it doesn’t matter; it’s like an investment in your future. The relationship with the person you’re talking to will be better, and so you’ll both benefit. You’ll both be happier.”

  “You know, Daisy, you sometimes make me feel guilty. As though I’ve done something wrong.”

  “I can’t imagine how you could possibly feel that,” I say with some asperity. “And I certainly hope you don’t expect me to apologise to you!”

  Quark puffs out my cheeks, “being human is difficult,” he says.

  It is, I thought to myself, it sure is!

  “‘What a piece of work is man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculty,’” says Quark.

  “Wait, what is that? Is that … is that Shakespeare?”

  “Mmm.”

  “You’re quoting Shakespeare at me? Where did you pick that up?”

  “From you.”

  “But I don’t know that! I’ve never heard it; I don’t even know what play it’s from.”

  “Well, you have heard it, because it’s in there.” He taps the side of my head. “I picked it up inside your brain. From a dark corner, admittedly. So you heard it sometime. And then forgot you heard it. It is Hamlet, by the way.”

  Doesn’t that take the biscuit? I’m getting English lessons from an alien entity! Seeing things from the outside, like an observer of my own life, is really strange. But just when you think you’ve maxed out in the weirdness stakes, things get wackier! It’s as though my life is a film and there are people that I can’t see with mics and cameras, recording me; like I’m the star of a save-the-world blockbuster. Actually, no, scratch that — I’m not the star, am I? We’ve established that I’m barely an extra in my own life!

  But seeing the relationships with those I love most being destroyed by Quark’s uncaring clunkiness, makes me think that maybe I should do more, not less, to help him acclimatise. In the long term, it could work to my advantage.

  You know how it is: we’re young, and we can do anything, right? On our best, non-panicky days, we actually believe we’re gonna grow up and change the world. But although I may well be subject to the delusional optimism of a teenager, I have to believe that. Except, I don’t have time to grow up to do it. I must do it now.

  “Quark, you need to work harder with my family and friends if you’re spending time as me.”

  “Why?”

  “The way you are acting — it’s wrong. It’s not what I do. Not who I am.”

  “Were. Who you were. You used to be good at English, so do not get your tenses confused.”

  Okay, apparently the lesson goes on!

  “Plus, you were too good, anyway,” Quark continues.

  “How could I be too good?!”

  “Parents expect their children to lie to them. To answer them back. If you don’t, you’ll be disappointing them; not living up to their expectations. And you’ll be letting the side down.”

  “What side?”

  “The teenage side.”

  “Oh, so you’re suddenly an expert in human adolescence, are you?!”

  “Well, the whole broody spaceman thing isn’t working,” he says with an entirely unbecoming grin. “So I’m learning; and I am planning a lecture that I will presenting to you soon.”

  “Wow, remind me to be elsewhere for that!”

  “Elsewhere? Like where else are you going to be?”

  “See, this is the mean behaviour I’ve just been talking about! I’m sure even cruel kidnappers don’t rub their victim’s nose in their lack of freedom.”

  “Daisy, I want to do this nicely. I want this to be a pleasant, two-way thing. If it is entirely voluntary on your behalf, it is so much better … it is more harmonious. You have much to gain from it.”

  “From what? My English lessons?”

  “No, Daisy. Don’t be obtuse. I do not need lessons in how to be human, in how to be you. I am learning from experience.”

  “But you’re upsetting people as you do.”

  “I’m a teenager! Do you think I care about that?”

  “Okay, another lesson. What you’ve just said is strictly clichéd. Teenagers do care; we care very much what people say.”

  “Well, in this case you need not worry about what ‘you’ say and what anyone thinks about it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you won’t be around long enough for it to matter.”

  “Oh, that tired old story again,” I sigh.

  “If you will not volunteer, it will force me to come in and get you.”

  I laugh uproariously at this. (Inside and only to myself, obviously.) “You can’t.”

  “What?”
>
  “You can’t do that. You can’t ‘get me’.”

  “Oh, but I can, Daisy.”

  “No, you can’t. Because if you could, you’d have already done it.”

  “Oh, come on, Daisy, don’t be like this.”

  “How often is it like this, Quark?”

  “Like what?”

  “How often do your victims fight to stay —”

  “You are not my victim.”

  “It’s a matter of perspective, Quark. And from my perspective, you’re the predator and I’m the prey.”

  “You disappoint me with your endless negativity, Daisy.”

  “I know, I saw the video on YouTube: ‘Always Look on the Bright Side of Life’, yes? So, I should smile and be positive about dying. Like the band continuing to play as the Titanic sank.”

  Quark shakes my head, sadly.

  “So, answer me: how often is it like this? How many of your victims fight back?”

  Quark’s silent.

  “Has anyone or anything ever truly fought back? Defied you?”

  “Briefly. But they failed. As will you.”

  “Quark … ”

  “Daisy?”

  “I will not fail. I will not give in. I will never, ever give in.”

  “Eventually you will die.”

  “You going to hang around for — what? — seventy years? Eighty, maybe?”

  “If necessary. But it won’t come to that.”

  “No?”

  “I can force you.”

  “I thought we decided you’d never be able to get in.”

  “I mean I could … ”

  “What … make me commit suicide?”

  He says nothing.

  “Nope. You couldn’t do that!”

  “Why? I could. I am in control of your body. I can make your body do that.”

  In a way Quark’s right: I’m so tired and scared, I’m entirely alone, and facing the biggest crisis of my life; the biggest crisis of anyone’s life — anyone, anywhere, in the entire history of the world. And the easiest thing to do, far and away the easiest option, is to give in; unlock my door and shout out: “come and get me!”

  Even though it sounds easy, it’s hard not to be afraid — to simply fear dying. To be bricking it about the whole process, from the dying itself — how it would happen and how painful it would be — through to simply not being here anymore. But it’s also terrifying to fight back and not give in. Because I AM alone. I’m in the dark with no one to advise or help me. And, let’s not forget, with an alien thing creeping around INSIDE me, wanting to do away with me!