The Daughter of the Night

by Julian Porter

  (ii) The Fungi

  The first thing that she noticed on arrival was that it was a bit chilly, which wasn't entirely surprising, given that Yuggoth was the planet otherwise known to humans, arrogant enough in their childish innocence, to think that they were the only quasi-intelligent race to inhabit these solar worlds and so had the right to go naming planets without checking whether there might be any inhabitants with their own views on what might be a nice name for the near-spherical object they called home, as Pluto, and so was basically a ball of rock and frozen methane so far from the Sun that to talk of its warming rays was just a bad joke. And so, feeling a bit chilly, Unity, for very nearly the first time in her life, wondered whether she should perhaps have chosen her clothes with a view to being warm as opposed to revealing her wondrous form. But she was a woman who knew what mattered in life and what didn't. And what mattered was letting everybody, thing or entity that happened to be with sensing distance know that she was the sexiest woman in this or any other universe. As it happened, she didn't really care very much about the opinion of the Fungi, because even if they were inflamed by her beauty and, er, other things, there was something about giant pink mushrooms that looked like a cross between a crab and a pterodactyl that was really a bit of a turn-off as far as she concerned. So even if they were moved in sundry places and pressed their suit, she was pretty certain that she wouldn't be having sex while she was on Yuggoth. Except, perhaps, with herself. If she got desperate. Because the only people here, apart from her, who were not demented crab things were not really in a fit state for any sex other than sex in the head, and Unity was in profound agreement with D H Lawrence, or would have been had she ever heard of him, that this was not a good thing. So the end result of all that was that she resolved to bear the cold and show these fungi what she was made of. Literally.

  Nina, not buoyed by a sense of mission as was her sibling, was not so philosophical, and immediately stated complaining.

  'Good heavens, it's cold here,' she said. 'I do hope you realise that this is all your fault, and that if you dressed decently, with the purpose of covering up your bad bits rather than emphasising them, which, I cannot say often enough, is a bad thing, then you wouldn't be about to die of hypothermia.'

  'Oh nonsense,' said Unity, 'Sure it may be only about twenty degrees above absolute zero, but look on the bright side: the cold makes my breasts stand up even more. Look, you can see the fabric struggling to contain them.' Nina responded primly,

  'I have no desire to look at those objects. They are forced on my attention quite enough as it is without my deliberately seeking them out. And I don't consider the fact that they stick out even more than usual as any great compensation. Sure, it might give the archaeologists who dig you out of the ice a thrill, but I do not consider such a meretricious outcome to be especially comforting.' Unity was impressed,

  'My, the words you know. Four, five syllables and all. Say “supererogation”, I dare you.'

  'I will not, I will merely remind you that you are not so slowly freezing, so you need to get cover as soon as . . . what the hell, I mean heck, is that?' Unity was so shocked at her companion’s language that for a moment she paid but little attention to the semantics of this observation, saying,

  'Really Nina, I am surprised. I've never heard you even come close to cussing before, but that was definitely getting there. And all because . . . why was it?' She looked around vaguely, noticed something and said, 'Oh, look, it's the welcoming committee.'

  And it was A group of Fungi had sidled up to her, and now their leader stepped sideways and said, in that curious buzzing tone that always reminded Unity of a not very effective vibrator she had once owned, while Nina simply labelled it as unnatural and left it at that,

  'Hail, Great Cthuhlu's daughter. May we have your brain?'

  'Me,' said Unity, 'No. Without a brain I'll never be able to have an orgasm, even if I do find mister, miss or other right. But you can have hers,' she added eagerly, pointing at Nina, ‘Or you could if she had a brain, that is. That’s a thought. You’re good at removing bits of people. How about invisible pests?' Now, naturally, Nina objected to this, but she objected so much that she was at a loss as to which of the umpteen ways of objecting that she had thought of to start with, so before she had a chance to draw breath, the Fungus replied,

  'I am sorry, but we have heard of this one. We have very many defective brains. They are to be found among the humans in great numbers. And so we need no more. Especially not invisible ones. Your brain, however, is unique. Such strength of personality. Such pronounced sensuous tendencies. But such a dreadful lack. We could study you for years.'

  'And while I'd be sitting in a tin can I wouldn't be having an orgasm either.'

  'But we could simulate one.'

  'Hmm. Simulated orgasm or the real thing? Sorry, I know it's terribly organism of me, but I do quite enjoy sex, and life just wouldn't be the same without it. Plus, if I wasn't there, what on earth would Miss Boredom here do with my lovely body, she'd ruin it with a bad diet and the wrong sort of exercise.'

  'Oh, that need not be a problem. Once we had extracted your brain, we would throw the body on a heap. Once a week some medical students call round and collect the bodies for use in their studies.'

  'Well that does it. No, no, no, no, no. And that goes for her too.' Nina finally found word,

  'And I should think so too. Not that I care about this body or orgasms or things like that. Things of the flesh are but a lure and a snare.'

  'So,' said the Fungus insidiously, 'Why not give them up?'

  'Because what you want to do is wrong. It's unnatural. It is contrary to the true faith.'

  'And how can that be?' said the Fungus. 'As the only true faith is that one day the stars will come right, and R'lyeh rise from the depths, on which day, Great Cthulhu will shed his tie and his pocket protector and sally forth again, ravening in joy, I see nothing there to contraindicate our great work.'

  'Which is?' said Unity, more out of politeness than anything.

  'To make the stars go right again. To make things that are not as they should be become once more perfect. To fix that is broken.'

  'To make me have an orgasm!' topped off Unity, clearly getting the gist of where he was going. The Fungus looked, in as far as a mushroom can be said to look anything other than deliquescent, put out, but gamely played along and said,

  'Indeed, if it is true, as must be the case, that your inability to climax is part of the general fault in the cosmos, then if, no when, we succeed, you can have orgasms on orgasms' heads.'

  'Now, let's not get hasty. One at a time will be quite enough. In fact, just one would be enough to be getting on with. I mean, I'm not saying I can live the rest of eternity a happy woman having come the once, but I'll certainly be a happier woman.'

  'Ha,' said Nina, 'You're never unhappy, not truly unhappy. The closest you get to unhappy is when you let someone spend the night with you and they run away before you wake up in the morning, so you can't do it again.'

  'You do not know,' said Unity soulfully, 'The deep pain within that darkens my every moment with the thought that there are virgins out there who've felt the Earth move more often than I have. And not just ones living in earthquake zones either.'

  'You're obsessed.'

  'And wouldn't you be if your favourite activity, the one thing you enjoy more than any other and that you're better at than anyone else, should be marred by a fatal flaw? I mean, say you were doomed to never actually find your true love. Wouldn't you feel a bit upset?'

  'I don't know. I never get a chance to see if they are my true love.'

  'All right then. In future I promise I'll let you have a conversation so you can see if they’re your true love. It can be part of the foreplay. Deal?'

  'Well,' said Nina, rather taken aback, 'That's terribly generous of you. But you shouldn't fornicate with them at all. It's wrong, immoral and . . .'

  'But anyway,' said Unity, interrupting and t
urning her attention back to the, frankly rather bored, crab thing, 'How are you getting on with the great work? Any clues?'

  'We have learned many things,' it said portentously. 'We have learned the key to the mystery.'

  'Yes?'

  'And it is . . .'

  'Yes??'

  'Hastur the Unnameable.' Unity looked down. Not a joggle. So it was with some asperity that she said,

  'You mean I've come all this way, and had to put up with being eyed up by a bunch of nerds, who'll probably fantasise about me for the rest of their sorry lives, which makes me feel unclean somehow. Which is strange, as it doesn't really affect me, at least I don't think it does, and yet being used as a substitute for the centrefold of 'Plaything' is rather demeaning for a girl, don't you know? I mean, it's as if they think I'm just one of those skinny sluts with big boobs.'

  'You are.'

  'No, Nina, I must take issue with you there. Yes, I have big boobs, which are all mine, unlike those silicone monstrosities you see in the papers, but I am not skinny. I am deliciously plump in all the right places. And I am not a slut either. I don't sell myself. I just like having sex, and I give of myself of my own choosing. And I do, do, do so really want an orgasm. So, mister crab creature thing, what do you know about Hastur?'

  The Fungus tried to look crafty, which might have worked if Unity had been another Fungus, but as it is, it merely looked like a dead crab that had had far too many seagulls in its afterlife, and, as a by-product, emitted a pheromone which smelled to a human exactly like said dead crab. So, while Unity screwed up her nose in disgust, it (nobody had ever worked out whether the Fungi actually had sex, which was another reason why Unity was feeling abstinent) said,

  'We know where he is.' Unity glanced down, but said,

  'Carry on.'

  'And we can take you to him. But you will have to consent to travelling in brain canisters, as the journey is not such as a body like yours can survive.' Unity glanced down again, and said,

  'And if we do, then what?'

  'Then you can plead with Hastur to return and make things well again.' One final glance. Then Unity said, initially quite slowly and carefully,

  'Well, I don't know about you, Nina, and please don't interrupt, I'm orating here, but what I think, after careful consideration of your terribly generous offer is . . .'

  'Yes,' said the Fungus eagerly.

  'That you,' she said, 'Are a big, fat, smelly, disgusting liar!' with which she swung her handbag, so it made contact just as she said 'liar'. And then she continued to thump the quailing Fungus as she spoke. 'You don't know anything about Hastur or what part he plays in this. You don't know where he is. This whole thing was just a ruse to debrain me and, god help me, have my poor, poor body subjected to attack by every necrophiliac from one end of the Universe to the other. So, no, mister crab person, I'm not giving up my brain, and though I might have given up Nina given the chance, I've got used to her being around. So I am not going to leap into a tin can. And unfortunately, I'm not going to leap into bed either. Or even do it up against a wall. I,' she concluded firmly, 'Am going to sea.'

  (iii) The Deep Ones

  The Fungi had been reluctant to see Unity, or rather her brain, leave them, but after she delivered a wistful little speech in which the expressions 'hollandaise sauce' and 'served on the shell' recurred several times, they realised that yes, she was absolutely right to want to go and say 'hi' to the Deep Ones. After all, she could get as much seafood as she wanted there and, most importantly, none of it would be eminent brain specialists (that is, unless Earthly crustacea were getting up to things as yet unseen by even the most enterprising of marine biologists, which, considering that said marine biologists had so far failed to spot so eminently large-scale an event as the wild mate-swapping parties that blue whales persisted in throwing in every possible location, must remain a distinct possibility). So they quickly arranged transportation, which involved strapping Unity onto the back of an extra-large Fungus, who flew her to Earth, accompanied by a smaller Fungus to keep her company, meet her every need (except the most important one) and try to persuade her to leave her brain to the Fungi in her will. Which, as she pointed out, was silly, because she was immortal and would only die if she wanted to, which she didn't, because though she had yet to experience life's defining and most outstanding event, she was pretty certain that her attitude, once the afterglow had died away, was more likely to be 'more, more, more' than 'see Naples and die'. And as for Nina, as if her opinion counted, she wasn't going to rest until she had found true love, and when she had found him, she intended to settle down to an eternity of mindless domesticity. So anyway, well-fortified with gin and tonics and salted peanuts (requests for crab cakes having been firmly rebuffed), Unity was carried to a point in mid-air several kilometres above the Deep Ones' principal city. And before she could finish saying (as she unstrapped herself),

  'But how are you going to get me down there?' the stewarding Fungus gave her a shove, and with a fading cry of 'You bastards! I'll tell Daddy on you!' she vanished from sight, followed shortly by the sound of a distant splosh. At least her skirts did not fly above her head, exposing her privy areas to the masses. For three reasons. First the skirt was so tight that it would have taken a pneumatic drill to move it more than a few millimetres. Second, Unity had, in the course of her life, intentionally exposed so much of herself to public view that a few naughty bits would probably seem anticlimactic. And third, the only sentient being to witness the event was a wandering albatross, who are notorious for being so faithful to their loved ones that even the sight of the sexiest woman alive plummeting from on high moved it not.

  So: splosh. And as Unity had never bothered to learn to swim (the only reason she could think of for going into the water required that it be relatively shallow) she started to sink, which was, she glumly realised, the point of the exercise. The Fungi had come up with an approach to getting her to the Deep Ones that was, well, definitely economy class, and as Unity was a first-class girl all the way, while Nina had a long-standing belief that the reason she had no body was that it had been stolen, for unknown purposes, by a shark who may well come back to finish the job, they thought long, hard, dark thoughts of the Fungi. And they were very long thoughts, for at three and a bit metres per second, it was going to take about an hour to get to the bottom where, Unity hoped, the Deep Ones would be waiting for her.

  As another author has written, let us not dwell on scenes of misery and discord. Let us merely say that with nothing to do to amuse themselves but talk to one another or blow bubbles, which was amusing, and temporarily attracted the attention of an amorous hump-backed whale, which put Nina all of a flutter, because Unity didn't exactly say no to his advances, by the end of the hour they were very definitely no longer on speaking terms (though making snide remarks was still considered. But all things must come to an end, even the interminable smooth jazz album that Azathoth has been listening to for the past seven billion years, and eventually Unity landed, and, with one small step for a woman, she went straight up to the nearest Deep One and said,

  'Okay, I'm fed up, so no messing about. Where's Hastur?' The Deep One looked startled, as well he (probably) might, given that women dropping out of the sky was unusual enough, but when they did they were usually dead, and on the rare occasions that they weren't, theology tended to be the last thing on their minds. But, like all Deep Ones he was pathologically helpful and honest, so he said,

  'I'm sorry, I don't know. Should I?'

  'Of course you should,' said Unity, taken aback at such ignorance of the Universe's single most pressing want. 'I need him so I can have an orgasm. So where is he?' By now a gaggle, or perhaps school is the better word, of Deep Ones had gathered, and they responded to this with their usual literal-mindedness (there is little cause for subtlety and subterfuge when you are basically a fish with delusions of grandeur). So one said,

  'But why do you want to spawn with Hastur? Surely if it's only the orgasm
you care about, anyone will do?' If there had been a wall handy, Unity would have banged her head on it, but there wasn't, and so she closed her eyes, counted to fifty-seven, and then said in a very level voice,

  'I do not want Hastur . . .'

  'But you said . . .'

  'I want to find him, because I have been told that he can help me to have an orgasm.'

  'That's what I said. Why him? Why not us? Why not become the proud mother of a human-fish hybrid abomination.' Unity decided to ignore the not-so-subtle hint and said,

  'What I mean is, he knows what I have to do to get an orgasm. It's like a load of boxes and the key to each one is locked in the box before it. I've got the first box open and found the key is Hastur, so I need him to open the second box.' Well, Deep Ones didn't do simile or metaphor, so one said,