Negative Film

by Leonard Petracci

  He continued to drop food into the second bowl until water started to spill over the rim, and it tipped beneath the surface, the fish darting out from the corners to consume the food. “But more often than not, if such a rarity as power duality occurs, it’s the result of something deeper. And while the powers will not doom them, the schism deep within certainly already has.”

  Chapter 69

  “Taylor, your hospitality, it is too much for us,” said Zeke when the remainder of the floating bowls were depleted, and they bobbed on the water surface like empty boats. “And, it is with some regret that I inform you of the favor we require.”

  “Ah, Zeke, no longer visiting just for fun, eh?” Taylor asked. “Stay for a while, let me blend something into you. I found a species of rodent that sleeps for over twenty hours a day— perhaps that could help you relax, eh?”

  “Not now,” grumbled Zeke, casting a glance at us. “But no, Taylor— we need to move, and we need to move quick. The last time I was here, you mentioned a project you had been working on. Something that might help us to get deep into the forest quickly.”

  “Oh, did I?” Taylor smiled and laughed, his wings fluttering along his back. “But it’s not mine to give. It belongs to a student of mine. It’s her graduating accomplishment. Her thesis. And truly remarkable, beautiful. You’ll have to ask her.”

  Taylor led us outside and into a small courtyard, his cane grinding gravel, stopping to sniff at a bush of flowers just outside the door and laying a hand over them that gently changed their hue before continuing. With each step, the world around us changed, becoming more dreamlike— squirrels the size of small dogs rushed across our path, stopping to twitter angrily at us. Trees displayed bark of stone and leaves of glinting emerald, with razor sharp shards sticking out of the dirt like broken bottles. Ahead, twelve buildings emerged in a semicircle, each constructed from a separate material — one entirely glass, another steel, and another wood. And in front of each was a path made from the same material, stepping stones that converged in the center to a massive plate, consisting of a swirl of all twelve until they became indistinguishable at the center.

  With a grunt, Taylor walked across the plate, then brought his cane crashing down on one of the stones in front of him, rapping on it three times, the hollow sound cutting through the air.

  “Is that— is that bone?” Arial asked, as Taylor rapped again on the specific path, and the corresponding white door to the house opened as another figure stepped out.

  “Best bone you’ll ever find,” answered Taylor, pointing to the house. “See those shingles? Modeled after stegosaurus plates. The door handle from rhinoceros knuckles. The hinges straight from orangutan joints, the cabinets lion jaws. Of course, none of it is harvested— each of my students must build their home from the eleven other basic materials, and blend them into their own. They must create where there is not.”

  “Ah, just perfect to know that there isn’t a smattering of forest animals missing appendages,” said Slugger. “Though whether that makes it more creepy or less creepy, I’m not sure.”

  “Creepy? It’s biology, son,” said Taylor. “Only through understanding the scaffolding of life can you begin to change it. And here is my student, the one whose help you seek.”

  “Ennia,” she said, approaching, careful to walk only on the bone aspects of the spiral plate. She wore a white robe that Slugger stared at suspiciously, and she bowed not to us but to Taylor alone. When she rose, her eyes met ours— eyes that were the lightest I had ever seen, with just the barest tint of blue, the color almost imperceptible. And when she threw back her hood, her hair was so blonde it matched the stones under her feet, and her skin lacked any pigmentation. She kept to the shadow as she waited, bending her arm to avoid any light, her lips pursed, her body still.

  “Sixteen years old and already ready to graduate,” beamed Taylor, his voice filled with pride. “My youngest in years.”

  “Sixteen!” said Lucio. “I thought you were thirt— Ow!”

  Arial’s elbow cut off his sentence, and she smiled to Ennia, bowing to her and extending a hand.

  “Forgive him, or maybe you should give him a new tongue,” she said with a smile, and Ennia took her hand, staring at it a moment before shaking it, her eyebrows raising.

  “It is difficult to change that which does not wish to change itself,” she answered. “Perhaps the desire is needed in him first.”

  “That is the first rule to blending,” instructed Taylor, raising his clawed finger. “To change, the target must first be convinced, the will must come from within it. Now, Ennia— our guests came to see your creations. With your permission— may we?”

  “Of course, teacher,” Ennia answered and bowed again. “For though they were created with my hand, was I not created by yours?”

  “First rule, first rule— your change came from within. Now, if you will follow me.”

  Taylor led us beyond the houses, each with their own signs of life from within, from dark shapes moving through the windows to soft music playing from one constructed entirely of crystal. Ennia stuck to the bone path as long as she could before following us, putting her at the end of the group, then stepped onto the dirt— and beneath the soles of her bare feet, the soil turned white with each footprint. As her foot released contact, the soil changed back, with only the bone powder whisked away by the wind to attest it had ever changed. Arial fell back to join her as we continued to weave through the compound, asking Ennia questions about where she had lived before she started studying. But soon a stable loomed before us, and Taylor opened the door, entering and gesturing for the rest of us to follow.

  “Why don’t you like it?” I heard Ennia ask Arial, just before we entered the low building.

  “Like what?” said Arial. “Your home? It’s wonderful here. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “No. Your hand, the one I shook. As a Blender, I can feel when things want to be something else. It makes them easier to change. Your hand, it wanted to change. But I don’t see why,” Ennia answered, tilting her head. “And you, does that mean you want to change? Is there something you would rather be?”

  Arial started to answer, then the words caught in her throat, and she entered the stable, leaving the question lingering outside the door. And with a curious expression, Ennia followed, staring down at her own pale hands.

  Chapter 70

  “Remember, they’re wild,” said Taylor, turning back to look at us and lowering his hand in a calming manner. “Stay gentle, don’t provoke—”

  Then a rumbling cut off his voice, one that exploded into a roar that hit me in the chest like a physical blow. Lucio leapt backwards from peering inside the edge of one of the stables, careening into me and knocking us to the floor, where we skidded over a layer of straw. My ears rang as another wave of sound erupted, a chorus combined with the sensation of standing at the center of an orchestra pit, the noise assaulting us from every side, buffeting us like waves in the shallows.

  “Magnolia! Lilac! Amaryllis! Blossom! Hush!” shouted Ennia, her voice cracking like a whip, cutting off the roars instantly to reduce them to growls. “You there, on the floor— what were you doing trying to do, scare them?”

  “Scare them? I just wanted to see them!” Lucio protested, his voice shaking. “And then they tried to eat me!”

  “Eat you? They’re vegetarians!” Ennia shot back. “At most, it would have been in self defense.”

  “And they sure as all hell would have won,” said Slugger, standing on crate where Lucio had been to look inside the stall, and releasing a slow whistle. “Get a load of this. Never see anything like it.”

  “Hey! Get down from there,” demanded Ennia, then flicked the latch on one of the stalls and threw the door open. “They’re perfectly capable of walking out on their own.”

  “That’s not what I was concerned about!” exclaimed Slugger, and he climbed up higher, holding his legs several feet above the floor. Ennia clicked her t
ongue, and I stood frozen as something moved from within, soft thuds sounding as it approached. The eyes appeared first— yellow and shining as if they produced their own light— shortly followed by two curved white teeth that overlaid a snarling lip. The beast sauntered with grace, confident as it purred, rubbing its orange and black stripes beneath Ennia’s left hand while glaring at us, the muscles rippling beneath the skin.

  “This is Lilac,” announced Ennia, and the tiger closed its eyes as she rubbed the top of its head, nuzzling against her side as the last remnants of growls faded. “Lilac, these are friends.”

  The tiger yawned, then shifted, rolling its shoulders as it stared at us. Arial gasped as light from the window struck its side, revealing where the stripes appeared to run perpendicular to their normal direction.

  “Are those? Are those—” she started, leaning in to see closer, watching as a thin layer of skin slid over the tiger’s ribs. Then it fluttered, and Ennia slid her hand underneath the flap of skin, pulling it upwards in a display that made my draw drop. Taylor opened the door to outside, and Ennia slapped the tiger’s side, pointing into the sunlight.

  “Go on, go play!” she shouted, and the cat bounded towards the door, gaining speed in two leaps before launching itself into the air. The flaps unfurled, stretching far across her body, catching her before she hit the ground so that all we could see was a shadow gliding across the grass.

  “Wings,” breathed Arial, stepping outside and looking upwards to where the tiger circled dozens of feet above us, powerful muscles contracting to push it higher, the orange and black wings pumping it upwards. It roared, the sound like a fighter jet reaching sonic boom, and with two powerful downstrokes alighted at the top of a tree, perched among the branches and staring down at us, the wings wrapped tight around its body.

  “It took months of development,” said Ennia as we stared upwards, our eyes nearly blinded by the sun. “Blending is not so easy for something like this. Making tiger cubs fly is simple, but full grown adults? Very difficult. The secret was in hollow bones, shed an incredible amount of weight, at the expense of becoming more fragile. Two hearts as well, and an enormous pair of lungs traded off for minimal stomach capacity. Plus a variety of other tweaks to make her perfect.”

  “She’s incredible,” whispered Arial and held out her hand, clicking her tongue like Ennia. The tiger swooped downwards as she leapt into the air, the beast roaring again in surprise as Arial twirled around it, laughing as they climbed higher in a spiral. They spun, pulling a full rotation, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure who was chasing who until Arial landed by my side, her hair in complete disarray, her cheeks red with excitement, and the tiger thudded down just before her. Sniffing, it crept forwards as she offered her hand, letting Lilac squeeze between us to rub against our legs. She laughed, but I held my breath, my eyes on the fangs, and my hand gripping Arial’s perhaps a bit too tightly.

  “Usually, she doesn’t warm to strangers that quickly,” commented Ennia, looking over Arial. “But no one has ever walked the skies with her either.”

  “And how many of these are there?” I asked, looking back towards the stable.

  “Five, one full litter,” she said. “Lilac was the runt, which turns out was better for learning to fly. She’s the most skilled of all of them.”

  “And we’re supposed to ride them, then?” asked Lucio. “I thought you said they were wild?”

  “Ride them?” exclaimed Ennia, whipping around to stare wide-eyed at Taylor and Zeke. “Ride them? These aren’t mounts! They’re art, creations! You absolutely will not be riding them!”

  “While I would typically agree with you,” interjected Zeke, placing a hand on Taylor’s shoulder while addressing Ennia directly, “we’re in desperate times. I’ll show you why, then you can decide.”

  Chapter 71

  “It’s not what they were made for, it’s not their purpose. They’re supposed to be free,” Ennia said as we were gathered in the room with the floating bowls once more. She frowned and slid a cashew across the rim of the table as a small rodent jumped from her sleeve, spreading its arms wide to glide through the air and latch on to the edge, then consume the cashew in a series of quick nibbles.

  We’d just returned from the path Lacit had rent through the forest, and Ennia’s closed fists had trembled as she looked over the destruction.

  “This is what we want to stop,” I had said, gesturing down to where a parrot lay dead in the earth, crushed by a falling tree. “And if we don’t stop it now, it will only get much worse. But we need your help, Ennia— we don’t have the speed to reach them. We’re far outpaced.”

  Her rodent had screeched from her shoulder as she shook her head, studying the wreckage. She reached down, taking hold of the parrot, closing her eyes for a moment as it turned white, and set it upon a nearby stump.

  “So that you may be remembered,” she had said, then she walked back in silence, leaving permanent bone footsteps behind her this time. And now, Taylor spoke up from the end of the table, his eyes upon his student.

  “The choice is yours, Ennia,” he said, trailing his fingers in the water, the fish darting to the surface to nip at them. Tiny legs sprang from their bodies, as if they were preparing to venture onto land but had not yet gained the courage. “But rest assured, they will not be bridled nor will they be saddled. At night, they shall be allowed to roam free. Should they choose to leave, they will not be stopped. Only of their own volition will they stay with the party.”

  “But what if they leave us in the middle of the jungle?” Lucio protested. “What then?”

  “Then you walk,” said Taylor. “So I advise you to carry plenty of carrots.”

  “And if a single one comes back with a scratch, I’ll calcify you on the spot,” spat Ennia, and her rodent held up a brown furry fist, chittering at us to illustrate her point before rushing back up her sleeve in search of cashews.

  “So it’s a yes, then?” I asked, tentatively, afraid she might change her mind.

  “It’s a yes.” She sighed. “But only because of what they did, and never again.”

  “If it helps, we truly do think your creations are amazing,” said Arial from beside me. “We’ll be careful. We understand their lives are precious to you. A lot of work went into them.”

  “It’s not about the work,” answered Ennia. “But I said yes, so don’t talk me out of it now. I’m already feeling remorse. We’ll have to make sure they take to you— they’ve been riding before, I’ve taken them out, but never with a goal in mind. Tomorrow, at dawn— I want to make sure they’re ready.”

  She stood to leave and her rodent tumbled out of her sleeve, falling towards the concrete before it could stop itself with a squeak. But just before it hit the ground, it slowed suddenly, almost hovering in the air before touching down and scampering back up Ennia’s leg to hide in the folds of her clothes. Without another word she left, and I blinked, staring at the spot where it should have hit the concrete hard enough to break its legs.

  “That was nice of you,” said Arial after Taylor offered to take the rest of the group on a tour. “Stopping it before it could hit. You probably won some affection right there, and we’ll need it if tomorrow has a rocky start.”

  “I didn’t do anything,” I said slowly, chewing on the side of my cheek. “Strange, you saw it too?”

  “It definitely floated,” she answered, her eyebrows scrunching together. “Maybe Darian?”

  “Must have been. I’ll ask later, otherwise— think there’s something else Zeke isn’t telling us? Those two were Blenders, and he’s a Survivalist, so none of them should have been able to do it.”

  “They shouldn’t have,” she said, staring over to Taylor. “But you heard what he said. Do you think it’s real? That they can meddle with powers?”

  “It’s absolutely real,” said Lola from behind us, making me jump. “And it’s a bad idea. That’s the reason why they’re secluded here. You know what happens to most people who at
tempt it? They go crazy, absolutely insane. Blenders have a bad name for that reason— there are things that shouldn’t be changed or meddled with.”

  “And there are conversations that shouldn’t be eavesdropped,” stated Arial with a huff.

  “Regardless, don’t go having any ideas,” Lola continued. “Blenders get their powers from genetically diverse environments. They’re essentially evolution incredibly sped up, without the checks and balances of millions of years to eliminate faulty creations. And the mutations, when something goes wrong, aren’t pretty. I wouldn’t wish it upon anyone.”

  “Anyways, who do you think made the rat float?” I asked, returning to the original question.

  “I didn’t see anything,” said Lola, her face dark, turning to leave. “But if you’re right, and those two have been altering powers, there will surely be a price. Nothing’s free, nothing at all. And to alter a power is to alter one’s very spirit of existence.”

  Chapter 72

  “Here, carrots are the path to both their hearts,” said Ennia to Lucio, handing him one as the tiger’s lip curled in front of him. It was the third time he had tried mounting the beast, and the second time he had nearly lost his hand to the snapping jaws. Experimentally, he waved the orange stick in front of the beast, its eyes sliding left and right with acute attention.

  “I still can’t believe you made them vegetarians,” he said, holding out a shaking hand as the tiger took a tentative bite, its eyes darting suspiciously as he tried to sidestep around it.

  “That was actually the hardest part. Much harder than flying,” she said, handing him another carrot.

  “And was there a point to it at all? Or did you just do it to keep the farmers’ markets in business?”