But, although it’s the scarier option, it’s the one I’m taking. I’d like to think I’m doing it for altruistic reasons — doing it for you and for all of mankind. I like the whole Hollywood idea of fighting for the greater good. And, of course, I am. But all the hype is way in the background. It’s a by-product. Because if mankind gets continue onwards and experience the full glory of global warming, Russian hacking and a North Korean firestorm, it’ll be because I get to grow up, have 2.2 children and a house in suburbia. Because I succeed. Because I win. Because I live.
And, when it comes down to it, that’s what I want: to live. “I’m sure you can throw my body off a cliff or under a bus, but I don’t think that’s the way you work.”
“You’d be surprised.”
“No, Quark, I wouldn’t. You say you’re learning about humanity and you’re learning about me. Well, I’m learning about you, too. And that isn’t how you operate. There’s a lot about this becoming thing that I don’t understand, but I’m sure there’s always some fast, probably instant assimilation — like you’re a Borg from Star Trek. When that doesn’t happen, then the giving in, the surrender, the bit where your victim gets to choose — I think that’s really important to how it works. There’s something about the energy transfer at the point of … impact or spawning or whatever that can wreck the process. I know I’m not using the right terminology and I’m not sure of the specifics, but I’m sure I’ve got the gist of it. You need that purity. Somehow, that’s dead important for you.” I pause a beat. “’Scuse the pun.”
Quark’s silent again. But my face in the mirror clouds with a resentment that leads me to think I’m right.
“I don’t think killing me in that way would give you the pure energy you need. It wouldn’t be suicide, but murder. And I don’t think you can become from that. You are undoubtedly the biggest mass-taker-of-life there ever was or ever will be, but in some weird, warped way, outright murder doesn’t work for you.”
More silence. A whole lot of silence.
“Hello? Hellllooooo? Quark? Oh, Quarky?”
“What?”
“Thought you’d gone to sleep on me.”
“No.”
“That all you’ve got to say?”
“Yes.”
“You can’t throw me off a cliff?”
Reluctantly, “no.”
“I have to give in or you’ve got to hunt me down in my own brain … or you’ve got to wait for eighty years.”
Even more reluctantly, “yes.”
“Not going to happen. And meanwhile, no matter what you think about how long I’ll be here, please be kind to the people I love.”
Silence from Quark. Poker face in the mirror.
“Nothing more to say?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“Do not call me Quarky.”
Chapter 32
BESTIE
Next day, Quark found it even harder to concentrate on the inanities of school. During last period Geography, he ignored oxbow lakes and came up with a plan. He decided to be Daisy, rather than merely inhabiting her. But he’d be his Daisy, not the boring, scaredy-cat one. He’s a modern teenager, after all — not a bland, sanctimonious one who gets sniffy about the correct sharing of power in a relationship.
After school he approached Amy just as she reached the gates. “Why have you been avoiding me all day, Amy Porter?”
“As if you don’t know.”
Quark frowned at this non-direct answer. “I would not have asked you the question if I already knew the answer. That would make no sense.”
“It’s you who’s shutting me out.” Amy’s reply was staccato.
“You are my friend, and I have no desire to shut you out. Please explain.” Quark was puzzled. Amy’s eyes said one thing, but her words said something else. Wait: how could eyes speak? And how on earth did the concept of speaking eyes even occur to him? Was new Daisy emerging already?
“Huh? You don’t know?”
As Quark’s expression remained confused, Amy continued. “What’s going on, Dais? You’re like a sleepwalker at the moment, just going through the motions at school. And I hardly see you out of school. You spend more time with Icky and that whole Satellite-crew than with me.”
“That is not a pleasing way to talk of our school friends, Amy. Their names are Ellie and Claire and —”
“And it seems you’d rather be with them, than with me,” Amy interjected. She sighed and took a deep breath. “And … also I’m now learning new things, important things about you from other people, rather than directly from you.” Often the girls walked home together, arm in arm, but it’s been a while since that happened. Now Amy reached out to touch Daisy’s arm. “Including from my own mother, Daisy.”
“Really?” Quark flinched away from the contact, bringing a flush of anguish to Amy’s cheeks.
Amy bit her lip, and a frown knitted her brow as she fought to hold in her distress. “Yeah. Your mum told my mum you’re not vegetarian anymore.”
“I’m hardly a carnivore. I simply want to try flesh — meat, I mean. Bacon, you know. Bacon is what us vegetarians miss most. Tasty, crispy bacon — yes?”
“Maybe someone who likes bacon would miss eating it. But you’ve always hated it.”
“I have?” For a moment Quark was puzzled. “I have! You are —” Quark paused, “you’re right there, my friend, Amy Porter. But maybe I want to see if I still hate it. Or not. Maybe I like it now!” He smiled and patted Daisy’s tummy, “mmmm … bacon.”
Amy shook her head. New Daisy wasn’t going down well at the moment. “Mum said something else too.”
“Yes — about cow’s bot— steak, I mean?”
Amy didn’t answer immediately, but bowed her head, regarding Daisy from under her brows questioningly, her eyes, a sharp discerning blue, now brimful with misgiving. Her hand toyed at a strand of hair that had come loose from her braid. “No. She said that you said … you were gay.”
“Well —”
Amy flushed as she continued to stare resolutely at Daisy. “You told your mum, who told my mum, who told me,” she finished, sounding crestfallen.
“Yes?”
“What is this crap, Dais?!” Amy broke out abruptly, the expression of melancholy deepening on her face.
“Well —”
“Is this some kinda joke?”
“Is it funny to be gay? Ah! Two meanings, yes? Old gay — to be happy, cheerful; new gay — to be bodily familiar with the same sex. I get it! I get the joke, Amy Porter. You are a funny girl. It is no wonder that I like you. We are so alike with our funny-ness.”
Amy looked at Daisy as if at a stranger. As if Daisy had become another person entirely. “Daisy, what the —” She took a breath. “Listen, I know we disagreed last week.” She paused again, sighed and shook her head. “And at the weekend.”
Quark nodded.
“Because you and Icky —”
“Ellie is a nice girl —”
“Yeah, whatever, the bully has turned over a new leaf; she’s now a born-again member of the human race. But, Daisy, if coming out as gay or trying to be gay is your way of trying to get close to me again, you don’t need to, okay?”
“Okay …?”
“It’s flattering you want to be like me, but — Daisy …?”
“Yes, that is me.”
Amy gave Daisy a weary smile, “you are so not gay!”
Chapter 33
THE ULTIMATE MAKEOVER
Amy’s face softens, and she smiles at me, making me realise all over again why I love this girl. I mean as a friend — not — Look, she’s right, I am so not gay. And I don’t know what Quark’s playing at.
“What are you playing at?!” I yell at him later in the privacy of our (aaaggh! that makes me so angry!) bedroom. We find that sitting at my dressing table, looking at the mirror is the best place for these conversations. It’s still bonkers; l
ooking and talking at/to yourself, but it is marginally less crazy than just lying on my bed talking to myself, or doing so while walking around the room — because our conversations often lead to arguments. And then to shouting. And then we get very strange looks from Mum, Dad and Luke. Singing off-key to YouTube hits is one thing; shouting at and insulting yourself is far harder to explain away! We’d both rather avoid those explanations.
I just wish Quark could talk in my head, like I can — ‘think talk’ — so that these conversations could be silent. Actually, scratch that: I most definitely do NOT wish he was in my head talking silently to me at all hours of the day and night. I get no space anyway, but at least I have my room — my locked room. I get some respite from him!
“What do you mean?” he asks.
“What’s with being a carnivore?”
“You will not let me become, so I want to see what it is like to absorb animal flesh another way.”
“Do you enjoy eating flesh? I mean meat.”
“I do not know.”
“But you’ve done it millions — billions — of times.”
“Not like that. Becoming is not eating.”
“So, what’s it like?”
“It is … not the same.”
“Wow, Quark, I’m not sure if I can cope with that much detail.”
“It is hard to describe.”
“Clearly. So, break it down: what does one becoming feel like?”
“Each is different. No one becoming is the same, but all are …”
“Yes?”
“Fast.”
“That’s it? That’s the level of scientific detail that billions of years has brought you to?” I gather my thoughts and continue. “But, if I become, I’m gone. Daisy Jacobs is just … no more, yes?”
“It is not dying, not death. It is renewal.”
“Like reincarnation?”
“That may be where that idea came from. A being that becomes,” Quark shakes Daisy’s head in wonder and sighs blissfully, “it is like the ultimate make-over! You are re-imagined. Made anew. You become new and you also become forever.”
“You almost make it sound like an attractive proposition. I’m pleased you didn’t get to make this pitch on a real TV show. I know lots of people who’d like the ultimate make-over!”
“And they would be right! Afterwards you are you, but you are everywhere. You are endless.”
I (inwardly) shake my head. “But if I became, I’d no longer actually be me.”
“You’ll not be Daisy Jacobs, no. You will be more! You will be someone else.”
“No, not someone, something.”
“That’s right,” Quark acknowledges. “But the essence, the elements of you will continue to exist. Like an eternal echo — down through the ages, on and on.”
“Forever?” Concern builds within me, like a dark cloud on the distant horizon. This all sounds too neat, too simple … too attractive. It’s like Quark’s hypnotising me, lulling me into accepting the impossible.
“Until the end of time,” he whispers breathlessly.
I need to break out of this, to change the seductive mood and escape the hippy-trippy tone that’s making mass extinction sound like an attractive proposition!
“Well, I’ll take it under advisement, Quark, because when it comes down to it, I’ll still bite the big one.”
“Like if I eat cow’s bottom; that cow is not likely to be walking in the field the next day.”
Despite myself, and sensing exactly the opportunity I want, I laugh. “That’s funny!”
“I made a joke?”
“Well … nearly. And it’s steak, Quark. If, heaven forbid, you get to eat it, it’s called rump steak, not cow’s bottom. But do try not to pollute my body with meat.”
“It is important to try new experiences, yes? To become more human?”
“Why would you want to be more human? I thought you wanted to get rid of all humans.”
“I think maybe I get to be more human and so you become less Daisy and then you just … become.”
“So you’re tricking me?”
“Absolutely! And you are falling for it!”
“That’s right, I am. Hook, line and sinker.”
“That is why I think we are now gay too.”
“You think being gay makes you more human?”
“No … well, maybe. I do not know. Just … you love Amy, yes. So this is a good way to get close to your friend.”
“Wait — you want me to — with Amy — and — WHAT?! What are you thinking?!”
“She is your best friend, yes?”
“Yes, but —”
“So, it is good to be close to your best friend. And also, who knows how long I may be here.”
“You thinking of leaving?”
“No, but if I do … I want to try many things before I leave.”
“Quark I am only fourteen-years-old. I am way, way, way too young. I will NOT have sex with Amy.”
“How about Conn—”
“I will not have sex with Connor either! I forbid you to make my body have sex with anybody at all! Is that clear? Just so you can see what it’s like! I am too young. I am nothing like ready for that.”
“You are a mature girl.”
“Quark: it’s a no. No. No. NO! I am too young. And also — I am not gay. I love Amy, but not like that; I do not … fancy her.”
“There is a difference, yes?”
“Yes!”
“So you do ‘fancy’ Connor?”
“I don’t know. I like him. He’s a nice boy. I’d like to get to know him more.”
“Why do you like him?”
“He’s nice …” I sigh, “that’s not a good answer …”
“Maybe feelings and emotions are as hard to explain as becoming. Maybe becoming is the same as love?!”
“No Quark, when you fall in love you do not disintegrate into your constituent parts and vanish into the ether. Being in love has precisely nothing to do with becoming. And I don’t ‘love’ Connor. I like him; he’s funny and clever. He’s kind. He is tall and has a lovely smile and warm eyes.”
“His eyes are warm?!”
“The look in his eyes is warm.”
“Ah, yes. When he looks at you there is more warmth.”
“I don’t know …”
“I do know. I see this. I see … heat.”
“Heat!?”
“Yes, in his eyes when he looks at you. And his eyes get bigger. Also, there is colour — heat — in his cheeks.”
“How do his eyes get bigger?”
“The pupils of his eyes, when he looks at you.”
“They do?”
“Yes. You do not see this?”
“No …”
“I do. When I look, I see this. I think this is something like your X-Ray vision in bad science fiction. I see it like a heat map. I will try to let you see like this sometime.”
“You will? Thank you.”
“You are welcome. But Amy — you love her but do not look at her in the same way. So she is nice, but she is not warm and kind?”
“It’s different. There’s no … tension with Amy.”
“Tension? Connor makes you tense? Afraid? Scared?”
“No. A different type of tension. It’s sort of …” I whisper, “sexual tension.”
“Sexual! Ah, so you do ‘fancy’ Connor!”
“No. Yes. Well — I don’t know. But I might. I could.”
“But not Amy?”
“No, I love Amy. But she’s no threat.”
“So Connor threatens you? And this is attractive?”
I sigh. How did this happen? How did I get into this? I’m a girl who’s barely even kissed a boy, who has precisely zero actual (as it were) hands-on experience and I’m trying to explain human sexuality to a billions-of-years-old space entity. I mean, honestly — you couldn’t make this up!
; “Let’s try this again. I am a girl —”
“Yes, we are a girl.”
“Be quiet, Quark. This is awkward and embarrassing and confusing even to me.”
“Why are you confused?”
“Because my hormones are racing; especially now — it seems like I’m changing every day.”
“I know!” His tone is emphatic.
“Shhhh! Let me try to think.” I speak gruffly, not looking at the mirror. As if not looking at him will make him not see me, and so make this situation easier.
“I do love her. I enjoy being with her more than anyone else outside of my family. I talk to her about everything. That’s why she’ll be so upset that I’m not talking to her about what’s happening now.”
Chapter 34
FLYING SLUGS!
At the end of the day, Amy and Daisy walked home from school together, with Amy clearly trying hard to get back her accustomed closeness with her best friend.
“When you think about it, what were the chances you’d enter the lion’s den and live to tell the tale?” Amy linked arms with Daisy, whose body didn’t relax into hers as it usually did.
As always, Quark was unsettled by physical contact. He simply couldn’t, as it were, get to grips with it. The space in and around Daisy’s body was his. He wished others would respect this and keep away. Or become. At the moment, either would be fine! “The lion’s den?” he said, gritting his teeth in an effort to avoid cringing away from Amy.
“Yeah — the circle of despair that is the Satellites.”
Quark said nothing; so far he hadn’t understood a word Amy had said. This girl was most confusing; he doesn’t really understand why Daisy was so fond of someone who couldn’t string more than a few words together without descending into a fug of supposedly shared obscurity. And why was she constantly trying to hug and touch him? It was most disconcerting — especially when Daisy said their relationship was not at all ‘like that’.
Daisy Jacobs Saves the World Page 13
