In that moment, Candor found some purchase, some measure of order onto which he could fasten his sanity. He knew that if he didn’t start rationalizing his new reality he would go mad. In a very real sense his mind was giving him the choice, the most basic and ancient choice of all sentient life, that of fight or flight. By the same token he also knew the origin. It was the scientist inside of him that was taking over. The rational side of his personality that began to break down his environment, classifying and analyzing each new set of stimuli.
“My respiration, is it happening through my skin?”
“What other way would it be happening?”
“Gosh, I don’t know, through my lungs maybe!”
“Lungs, you mean like a mammal?”
“No, like a chimpanzee dressed in a clown costume with its finger up its ass whistling zippity-do-da! Of course, I mean like a mammal!”
Zyphon grunted, as though the very thought of breathing like a mammal was a dubious prospect. “How obtuse, Candor. And what may I ask is a ‘clown,’ or this ‘zippity-do-da,’ you speak of?”
“Oh, just forget it,” replied Candor, not in nearly a good enough mood for explanations. “Biology was never my strong point. Just give me a mirror please.”
“Mirror, I do not understand?”
“And Jesus wept! A looking glass, a refractor! Just something so I can see myself, I need to see what I look like!”
Zyphon walked to the other side of the table in a slow cadence, giving himself time to frame his next words carefully. “Candor, old friend, I’m not sure if that is a wise decision. You are behaving most erratically, not even aware of your lineage. I’m afraid the damage is much worse than I suspected. Perhaps you should take some time to adjust.”
“Please, Zyphon, I need to see what I look like. I need to face what’s happened to me. I still can’t believe that what you call a hallucination didn’t happen. I promise I won’t bolt from the room. You have my word that no matter the outcome I’ll stay put until the Healers are done with me.”
Zyphon stared at Candor, his green eyes cutting into his thoughts once again. And for the first time since meeting the alien, he questioned if they were friends.
If I’m a friend, then why doesn’t he trust me? Yet the answer to that question formed more quickly than the question itself. Because you’ve just been brought back from the dead, Lazarus, that’s why. And for all Zyphon knows you’re cracked right down the middle. Crazy as a loon…or whatever it is they have here that passes for a loon.
At last, Zyphon nodded. Then, reaching the long delicate fingers of one green-gray hand near Candor’s head, a control panel appeared out of thin air. He wanted to ask him about it. Between that and the Healers, Candor could appreciate that Penticorians were technologically superior to humans. Although where that was concerned, Candor admitted that his memory was growing dimmer.
A moment later, Candor watched the arm retract into the ceiling. While the circular dome above him collapsed inward, lowering down until it formed one continuous surface. Candor was awestruck. There wasn’t the slightest noise of gears, motors, or the rustling of electrical conduit.
It’s as if it just melted from a dome into a flat ceiling. And without the slightest blemish, amazing!
A large oval appeared overhead, again, as if from nothing at all. While shortly thereafter a flowing liquid appeared at the center. The liquid spread out as if it were a living thing, flowing until it covered the oval. And then Candor Shuveen, son of Sador and Janesska Shuveen, and citizen of the city of Tulacoss, in the Regent Province of Lockheem, came face to face…with himself.
What the heck is going on here? He thought, stunned at his appearance. Yet he wasn’t afraid, only fascinated. Revulsion never even entered his mind. In fact, he thought he appeared youthful, sleek, even handsome. A mane of golden hair fell loosely around his shoulders. His arms were long, but more muscular than Zyphon’s. While his legs followed suit to match his hairless broad-shouldered torso. Candor noted that his skin was a darker shade of green than Zyphon’s. And his eyes were large and brilliant, like the color of blue fire, and neon in appearance. His face was angular and his cheekbones sharply defined, with a jaw that was more oval than Zyphon’s. Yet while he shared the same flecks of color on his cheeks and forehead, Candor’s appeared to flicker in the light with more brilliance.
Touching the delicate curves of his ears, his hands explored his face, feeling the silky texture of his skin. His sensitive fingertips brushed his lips, and then probed into his mouth as he smiled to get a better look through the mirror above him. He found that he had not one, but two sets of teeth. The first set, the one that showed when he smiled, were straight and white.
Almost cosmetic, he thought. Just for appearance. Strange that a feature like that would evolve.
Behind the first set, he noted that the second row of teeth was a unified part of the first. There’s the business end. Candor thought, feeling the sharpened grooves that were capable of slicing and chewing. Obviously, we’re a species that eats meat or fish of some kind. You don’t evolve choppers like this to be a vegetarian.
This felt like a dream, as if it was happening to someone else. Then apprehension crept its way into his nerves as he looked at the blanket that covered him. It shimmered with a translucent quality as the question formed. Do I have a penis? Heck, I don’t even know! And I’ve supposedly been a Penticorian my entire life!
One hand moved down his chest, as Candor struggled to come to terms with his new body. His hand found the edge of the blanket and slipped beneath the thin sheet. Candor held his breath, even though that statement could only be construed as a figure of speech. The tension mounted, and his muscles tightened as he reached between his legs. Candor felt, something. And the sensation sent chills throughout his body. He could feel the fleshy folds of his penis, and in many respects, it resembled that of a human. Where it differed was in the texture, the nature of the skin itself. It was velvety, while at the same time noticeably thicker in girth than he remembered. Candor folded back the sheet to examine it.
It’s hair, he thought with astonishment. All around his penis it was smooth and bare, with no pubic hair whatsoever. Yet his penis itself was covered with a thin short fur just a few millimeters high, and supersensitive to the touch. What took him by surprise was the realization that he had no scrotum, and strangely enough that fact didn’t bother him.
They were always clumsy, he thought as a smile crept over his face. I suppose that the Penticorian equivalent must be inside of me somewhere. If I’m right about being a descendant of reptiles then it makes perfect sense.
Candor laughed, Zyphon looked concerned. “Candor, is everything all right?”
“No,” Candor replied between bouts of amusement. “It is definitely not all right. However, from where I was, to where I am now, this body is in a lot better shape than the one I left. So, I guess I’ll just have to make due.”
Zyphon reached out, and the keypad appeared again. After a series of taps, a viscous mist formed over Candor. Its sudden appearance heightened his fear, while simultaneously he marveled at the way the mist was confined to his bed, and didn’t spread out to fill the room.
“What are you doing?”
“Candor, I implore you to relax. It is only a calming treatment. Honestly, you appear to be on the verge of hysteria.”
Zyphon was right about the mist. Candor could feel it seeping into his skin, breathing in the vapor as his mind descended into a dreamy state. And there was something else as well, something that Candor could not explain.
“I taste something. Is that normal? Do we taste through our skin, just as we breathe?”
The sensation was tangy and fruity, enveloping him in a delightful scent that submerged him into a state of complete relaxation.
“Yes, my old friend. We do indeed.”
“It feels strange. How am I able to breathe oxygen through my skin so efficiently?”
“Oxygen, Candor? You tr
ouble me with your continued attempts to align us with mammals. Oxygen exposure would be the death of you in hours, the death of us all. In fact, it has reached the point where we cannot venture beyond our cities without protection for very long.
The mist began to dissipate, and Candor knew that it was because he had absorbed the chemical. His mind was swimming now. With the same effect as if he had taken six shots of rum back-to-back, or gotten a massive dose of morphine.
“If we don’t breathe oxygen, then what am I breathing?”
Zyphon looked down at him. His large green eyes stared as his brow furrowed with deep concern. “Carbon dioxide,” he said matter-of-factly. “What else would you be breathing?”
“That’s impossible.” His speech had deteriorated into a thick slur. “How would we metabolize the compound in the bloodstream? How would it impact cellular mitosis?”
“Hush now, Candor. You need to rest. There will be plenty of time to ask your questions. Please excuse me for a moment. I need to see if your parents have arrived.”
“Yea,” said Candor, as high as the proverbial kite. “Let me know if mom and pop are here.”
Zyphon smiled as though he understood Candor’s slang, patted him gently on the shoulder, then left the room. Alone once more he stared at his reflection in the ceiling. With the drug Zyphon introduced he felt more than good, he felt fantastic! And in his drug induced haze he resorted to the only other pastime he could think of, making faces. Wrinkling his nose, he opened his eyes as far as he could. Then he smiled, frowned, and then topped it off with a smirk. Sticking out his tongue, which was an unusually bright shade of pink, he tried to touch his nose. He nearly did, even as the rest of his features scrunched in concentration. Then closing one eye he sucked in his lips, which proved difficult given how thin they were. Then a brilliant thought occurred to him. Relaxing all his features into a mask that was emotionless, Candor put his hands behind his head. Tucking them underneath his ears he pushed them out as far as they would go, splayed out like a set of alien antennae.
“Take me to your leader.” He said in a mechanical drone that originated from too many late-night episodes of the Twilight Zone. And then, adding from the 1951 movie, The Day the Earth Stood Still; “Klaatu, barada, nikto. Gort, destroy the humans!”
Candor burst out laughing. It was a strange sensation, yet he felt the tension draining out of him as he did. Grateful for the release, the thin tendrils of sleep began to wrap themselves around him. His laugh diminished into a chuckle, the smile on his face genuine. He wanted to be awake when Zyphon returned with his parents. Yet sleep was determined to claim him, and Candor could feel the weight of his eyelids as they drifted.
There were so many questions that he needed answers to, and so many things that he wanted to say. But most of all he wanted to understand why, or how, he could speak the strange hissing language of the Penticorians. Not to mention that there was still a part of him that believed he was only dreaming. He was afraid that if he fell asleep he might hallucinate again. Or at the very least find himself a full Penticorian, with no memory of being a human at all. His eyes closed, and his mind drifted in the silence of the room.
I don’t want to forget. He thought, even as the fog in his mind expanded. I can’t forget…I can’t.
We never know we go, when we are going
We jest and shut the door;
Fate following behind us bolts it,
And we accost no more.
Emily Dickinson
1830-1886
Two
“Candor,” said a sweet melodic voice. It was like the sound of music which was carried over a field of wildflowers. It called to him, compelling him to emerge from the darkness and reach into the light. “Can you hear me, little one?”
The sound was soothing, a gentle caress that ignited feelings Candor never thought possible. “Yes, I can hear you. Who are you?”
“It is I, my precious child, Janesska.
“Mother,” Candor replied.
“Yes, little one. Your father is here too. He has come from the temple of Eos, praying that the Goddess will see fit to restore your health, and blessing her for giving you back to us.”
Candor didn’t understand. And even as the music of his mother’s singsong words coaxed him back from unconsciousness, he felt the pangs of his other life coming back to haunt him.
“Where am I? Am I still on the island of Sumatra?”
“Sumatra, is that a place that you know of, my child?”
“Mother, I’m confused. Zyphon told me that I died, and in those final moments my mind created an escape from the pain. Yet it felt so real, and I can see it so clearly. I don’t recall my life, but your voice gives me comfort. I wish with all my heart that I could remember.”
Candor was surprised by the genuine nature of the sentiment. In many respects, he hoped that he would awaken to find that he had no choice in the matter. To emerge as a human with no memory of the Penticorian, or a full-blooded alien, with his memory restored. So he was disheartened, because even in his dreams the memory of his former life was still there. Although there was some distance now, with the belief that those things had happened to someone else.
Then why can’t I just forget? He thought, standing in the darkened room of his mind.
Montauk! The word jolted Candor with such violence that he caught his breath, both mentally and physically.
Images emerged in the space of a heartbeat, scratching at the fringes of his sanity. He was a small boy, a human, and there was a woman standing over him. She was tall, with hair the color of midnight and lips that were painted a deep fire-engine red. She was smiling at him as she held his hand.
“Come on, Candor. It’s time for your treatment.”
He looked up at her, sensing the disingenuous nature of her smile. And he was right, because what followed was the searing pain of a needle piercing his arm. He cried out, a child who was lost to the world. And as the burning liquid oozed through his veins all the muscles in his body went rigid with fire. Even as a child, and with tears streaming down his face, he prayed for death. Yet Candor knew that he was fortunate. At least when compared to some of the other children.
A memory punctured the wall of his consciousness, taking him back to the night when he’d snuck out of his room. He planned to escape the pain and drift on the winds of fate. For God had not been kind to him, and fate seemed a more suitable mother than any he had ever known. Lost, he found himself in a corridor that he didn’t recognize. It was white like a hospital, with tall glass windows that were too high up for him to see through. He heard the crying of children, and noticed a wooden crate on the floor. Standing upon it, his tiny fingers gripped the ledge as he peered over the top. There before him was the most horrific sight he had ever witnessed. There was a large room with a white tiled floor. In the center of the room there was a row of steel chairs and in those chairs, were children. The leather belts that held them in place were unnecessary, because none of them were struggling. In fact, they only cried, tears streaming down their faces as they whimpered.
His heart caught in his throat, realizing that this was not an illusion. Candor could feel the child in him, frightened stiff as his gut tightened with revulsion. For with a terror that turned his knuckles white, he saw that the top of the children’s skulls had been removed.
“Orphan! Throw-away! Cast-off! Candy!”
The biting words howled in Candor’s mind. He couldn’t think and couldn’t speak. His mind returned him to that place where the children had their skulls removed, their brains exposed to the harsh incandescent lights. A hand gripped his shoulder, and the urine felt warm against his legs as it ran down into his shoes.
“Hey! What the hell are you doing here?”
“Candor,” said the voice of Janesska. Immediately he fled the terrible visions, moving toward the voice of his mother in a new and inexplicable way. He could neither understand nor identify his direction but it didn’t matter, he ran to her anyw
ay. Her cadence was the eternal promise of peace, and the unconditional love of a mother for her child.
Yes! He thought with wild abandon. Yes, Mother! I am your “little one,” and I am your son. Take me away from this nightmare. I am Candor, a Penticorian! I am the son of Sador, and Janesska Shuveen!
“Come to me, little one,” she implored him.
Candor found her in the darkened room of his mind, and she was beautiful. With long flowing dark hair, and dressed in a magnificent gown. The gentle curves of her oval features were striking against her deep blue eyes, and embracing her was unlike any sensation that he had ever felt before. Janesska was tall and slender, yet her arms were strong as she held him.
“My precious one,” she purred as she stroked his hair. “How I have missed you, my beloved.”
Candor wept in her bosom as he clutched at her shimmering robes. “And I have missed you, Mother.”
“You were deep inside your mind, little one. I believe that the Healers incorrectly reconstructed a portion of your memories. It took some effort for me to find you, and the images that I have seen are quite disturbing. Please, explain these unusual depictions of mammals.”
Candor discovered a part of himself that he was unable to reconcile. It chafed against this new life that he was determined to have; a morbid echo of someone that he was certain he wanted to forget.
“It was just a dream, Mother. It was only a bad dream.”
Janesska smiled at him, radiating feelings of safety and comfort that he longed for. “Come with me now, little one.”
Candor stood, wiped away his tears, and walked with her. As he did, he felt his mind gaining awareness. It was one of the most unique experiences of his life. He could see the layers of his thoughts, with consciousness only a few thin barriers away. And more, he felt vibrant, with a newfound understanding of himself and his mind. Yet along with that knowledge there was also an abiding sense of trepidation, because he knew that he could get lost inside thoughts and emotions which are normally guarded by an impenetrable wall of the subconscious mind. Now that wall was transparent, like a veil that was easily discarded.
Penticore Prime Page 3
