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 Intelligence  (4 ratings)by Barry Tomkins Page 2 of 9 Ganderpole thought of his brother-in-law Marlowe who had bought a live lamb on
the black market and kept it in the hall closet for a month, muzzled most of
the time except when he fed it grass clippings he cut in the park at night. It
became thin and did not grow much except taller so when he finally smuggled it
out in a cardboard box it looked more like a skinny goat covered with mangy
wool than a lamb. One cool rainy day, deep in the woods, the lamb was solemnly
slaughtered and barbecued over the embers of a wood fire covered with a
tarpaulin. Moisture stuck to grey tree trunks, rain pooled in the soggy grass,
the pink meat steamed and dripped with fat. Marlowe and his friends tried to
enjoy themselves and Ganderpole chewed a piece of the meat for a while. When no
one was looking he wandered to the edge of the clearing and spat it out, then
spat some more to get the taste of half-cooked blood out of his mouth. A few
days later Marlowe was taken away by a whole platoon and not seen since.
Cameras in trees, someone said.
"It wasn't visible, there was no lump, when I first discovered it," he said to Agatha. "But I felt a slight tugging inside there when I bent or lifted. I didn't want to worry you before." He handed over the little sketch Aardquist had given him to Agatha who grimaced. From the couch, Ganderpole could see the door of the closet where the lamb had been held captive. "I've seen a drawing of one of these before, last Sunday, in the magazine. There was an article," she said. She fetched it from the recycling pile and brought some tea and they sat side by side on the couch and read it together. Ganderpole's heart began to leap again as he looked at the illustration which exactly resembled the skeleton of a thick veined leaf or a set of roots. But now it had a name - the Mistletoe Symbiont. "No wonder he didn't tell you what it is. Yours must be one of the first around here. They've been cropping up all over the Middle East since the Mesopotamian slave mining crews on Barddo returned from their first terms." "Intelligence?" asked Ganderpole. It was the most important question on earth. "Look, it says here only two have passed the three-month threshold and been tested. Both hit 4.1 on the Life Line test." Ganderpole lay back in his chair and stared at the ceiling, ignoring the tea Agatha poured for him. A whiff of peppermint reached his nose from the cup. He thought he smelled the captive lamb and sat up nervously and then remembered the giant sheep which had brushed against him in the street, leaving a smear of lanolin on his clothing. He lay back again while Agatha gave the gist of the article. The rooty thing grew into reddish leaves sprouting all over, eventually, if it followed the Barddo pattern. There was no pain, apparently. According to a biochemist interviewed, there was some kind of nutrient exchange. Photosynthesis was probably a part of that. But there was no understanding yet of long-term effects on the human - or the symbiont, which scored a full point and one-tenth over the Life Line. With a score like that, there was no chance at all of being allowed to have it out. He would join the ranks of the possessed, one of those who lived out their hidden lives as two, host to one of the many space organisms that loved human flesh. Copyright © 1999, 2000, 2001 Barry Tomkins, sffworld.com. All rights reserved. No part of this may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the author. The author has submitted the work in accordance with and in agreement with the following Submission Guidelines. |
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