Daisy Jacobs Saves the World

by Gary Hindhaugh

  “Well, that’s elementary, my dear — see what I did there? See, I’m a Quark and so … elementary!”

  “Mmmm.” Daisy smiles and nods at his extraordinary wit and tries not to appear quite so much like a teeny-tiny bunny sitting in the middle of the road with powerful headlights bearing down on her … powerful headlights attached to one of those vast road-train transportation trucks.

  “Yes, you see I’m a singular singularity. An elementary particle. But, some might say, also the most powerful.” He flicks his hand modestly as if to brush away an irritating and insignificant speck of dust — like humanity, for example. “I spend long eternities in an endlessly slow drift through the vast emptiness of space.”

  The director twiddles a dial in the control booth and in the background we hear the recording of an audience “ah-ing” in sympathy. Daisy nods with forced, and in the circumstances, prudent empathy into the camera over Quark’s shoulder.

  “And then,” Quark continues as he acknowledges the compassion of the imaginary audience, “I come across a place that is just … ripe for development.”

  “And that is becoming?”

  Quark nods and sighs, taking on the look of a Bond villain, stroking a white cat, as he continues. “Becoming, yes. It is mind expanding. Mind-blowing, you might say.” He grins a textbook-evil grin.

  Daisy smiles again and steals just the briefest glance at the corner of the studio as she tries to calculate the distance to the nearest Emergency Exit and the time it would take her to get there. She regrets her decision to fight tooth and nail for this assignment when instead she could have been on a beach, or in a fancy restaurant or having all her teeth extracted without anaesthetic.

  Quark sighs, “listen — a cloud of dust and gas forms your planet, and with just a few chemical reactions, it creates life that over just a few hundred million years becomes human beings. But everything comes from the original stars. All you are is a collection of atoms arranged in to a human-being pattern for a short span of time. When that time ends, you all become, and return to that star stuff. It’s beautiful, really.”

  “So, you’re here to supervise that process?”

  “Not so much supervise … as carry it out.”

  “To destroy humanity.”

  “That’s putting it a bit strong.”

  “Kill. Is that better?”

  “Sorry?”

  Daisy’s found her feet now and is actually pretty wound up by this interview. For some reason, she feels that she has a stake; something not unadjacent to her imminent oblivion, perhaps. “You keep saying, ‘become’: you want Daisy Jacobs and so all of us to ‘become’. That isn’t what you really mean though, is it? You want us all to die. You want to kill me and then all the rest of us.”

  “That’s not true at all!”

  “No?”

  “Certainly not, you will not die, you will become —”

  “Yeah, as I was saying: you want to kill us.”

  “ — Become more, is what I would say. Become greater. From being just a girl, you’ll— “

  “Ah! So you’re sexist and murderous: ‘just a girl’! Thank you for that, Mr Quark. This interview is over.” Daisy turns to face the camera.

  “There you have it: we’re small, we’re insignificant, we’re made of the ashes of long-dead stars, and some of us are ‘just girls’. Is it so surprising that homicidal dark matter should want to terminate our existence?”

  She speaks with fervent and heartfelt sincerity into the camera. “Look up into the night sky folks, and you’ll see where we came from and where … eventually, we’ll all return. But not now. Our time is not now. Human beings are more than just bags of atoms. Our humanity is a wondrous gift and we will not go down to Mr Quark. We will not sink into a drifting anomaly in space. Right now I feel like a brilliant shooting star, and the most unpleasant surprise — and biggest frustration of Mr Quark’s entire existence. Let’s try to keep it that way, shall we? Let’s fight for the right to live. Thank you and good night.”

  Chapter 21

  ISOLATION WARD

  When will it be on?” Quark does his best to sound casual.

  “When will what be on where?” I match him for laid-back nonchalance.

  “The interview. When will I be on television? I will encourage your family to watch me-you-us.”

  “It won’t ever be on, Quark.”

  “Why not? I thought I was excellent and I am sure your planet-colleagues—”

  “‘Planet-colleagues?’” I scoff. “You mean fellow humans? Or just people?”

  “Yes, them. I am sure they would feel reassured by my comforting words.”

  “About their impending doom, you mean.”

  “About their harmony with the universe. About the extraordinary wonder of being made of the same stuff as stars. I think it will thrill them to know every one of them can become a star.”

  I pause. “Unfortunately, you’re partly right there. Many of them do want to be stars — without doing any work for it at all. But I think they imagine their names in lights, rather than their bodies as light. I don’t think they’d be happy about the kind of star you’re planning on turning them into.”

  “Well, when they watch me on television, I am sure it will reassure them.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you, but it’s not gonna happen.”

  “The television programme is not yet scheduled?”

  “It never existed.”

  “But I was on it. I was in the studio. I saw the lights, the cameras, the interviewer — actually, she looked quite like you.”

  “She was me. There was no interview. You were in my head — where you do not belong and are not welcome. And I was … dreaming.”

  “It did not happen? There was no interview? And I will not be broadcast all around the world on Armageddon Television? But it seemed so real!” Quark sounds petulant.

  “Oh, I do hope so! I was dreaming a wonderful dream of your downfall and destruction. Best dream I have ever had. I hope it comes true very soon!”

  “Why did you do that? What was the purpose of … deceiving me like that?” Quark asks huffily.

  “I didn’t deceive you; I had a dream. I’m planning your eviction. If I have my way, you’ll soon be history!” This may not be something to brag to Mum and Dad about, it may not be something to shout from the rooftops, it’s not something I can honestly say I’m particularly proud of, but it turns out I am a pretty darn good liar!

  “You are just a child.” Quark scoffs.

  “I am not a child! I am very nearly fifteen!”

  “Exactly: a child.”

  “I am a teenager. Almost an adult.”

  “You are basically a toddler with raging hormones.”

  “I am n—” I start. Then pause. If I’d had control of my body, I’d have done that frowning-thing and the side-to-side head movement people do when they consider the pros and cons of an argument. “Actually, I see your point. Kind of.”

  He considers for a moment. “Your thoughts are unusually vivid.”

  “How would you know? You’ve never taken the time or the trouble to get to know your victims.”

  “Hosts, Daisy. Hosts. They are not victims.”

  “Sorry, my mistake: hosts.” I fill my inner voice with as much sarcasm as I can put into it. “Hosts … who all happen to die very soon after meeting you.”

  “You sound awfully bitter.”

  “Oh, really?! I simply can’t imagine why that could be.”

  “Me neither.”

  My sarcasm is wasted on him. But Quark’s right: I’m like a child facing the overwhelming force of destiny. Stuck in here by myself, how can I hope to stop it? I’m alone and I don’t know how to exist in a world where I have no-one to help me. I don’t want to be in that world; in this lonely world in my head. I shouldn’t have to face such things alone. I’m too young. I know that at my age, I shouldn’t want Mum and Dad, but
I do. I want my brother and Amy. My God, I’d even settle for Icky! Yeah, to not be on my lonesome, I’d promise not to have mean thoughts about Ellie Watson, even though she’s a total—

  Reader, you have no idea what it’s like being stuck inside one place for a long period of time. Imagine: locked down, in isolation! But now I want my family, and my class and my school and my village and my country — I want the entire world. ME: I want it! And Quark is not, absolutely NOT going to have them. The world will not become. Not on my watch!

  Starting to fight back helps me to feel less isolated and just a little more in control. I know that if Quark hadn’t landed in me, it would have been someone else. And, though I say so myself, I’ve made a pretty good job of holding him off until now. If he’d landed in the Prime Minister or Mrs Griffin or some random person in London or Cairo, would it all be over for them — or us all? — by now? No way of knowing. And irrelevant anyway, because it was me he landed in. It’s me who has to deal with him. And if he gets through me, he’ll be on a roll and it could well be over for all of us; for the entire human race.

  But I did trick him. And I have stopped him … for the moment at least. Day to day survival is not good enough, though. I’d like the chance to get my GCSEs and A Levels. I want to get a degree in science from a good university. I want an interesting job. I want to make a fool of myself with Connor or some other worthy boy. I want to make mistakes and have the chance to learn from them, rather than have myself (and all of humanity) die from them. I want to look back and reflect (from the distance of many, many years) on what’s happened to me in the last week and to tell others about it. Although I think that’s more likely to get me confined to a small room with padded walls than any form of official recognition. Who in their right mind would believe this story?!

  But Quark believed the TV programme was real. And that’s something to remember: he has control of my body and he’s running most of my mind. But he doesn’t really understand how our minds work. He doesn’t think like a human. He’s a primordial beast. A moveable black hole. The universe’s vacuum cleaner!

  Quark’s right about something else though: it’s true that our brain is incredibly powerful and if we put our minds to work, we can learn new things. We can play tricks.

  I think shock and fear may have masked some of what, despite Quark’s unwelcome presence, I can still do. It’s like my brain, the little I have of it (yes, yes — hilarious), was babbling away after my Quark-seizure with the whole ‘an alien’s taken over my brain’ thing and I couldn’t focus. I need to get that focus back. Stop Quark, get my brain back, and then we can all get on with wars, global warming and Love Island.

  The fear, the loneliness and the isolation are all good things. Because all are painful. And if I’m in pain, I’m alive. And being alive is a very good thing!

  What happened to me after my brain-napping was like one of the panic attacks that grip me. Except, instead of frozen limbs, clouded thoughts, rabbit in the headlights helplessness, I desperately sought to figure out why I had NO control of my limbs — or my senses. There was nothing I could calm down with focussed breathing, so I shut down. And my previous experience and that instinctive, almost reflex action, may have been enough to stop him finishing me (and all of us) instantaneously. Imagine that: there’s a good side to having a case of the panics! This is a skill they should teach in Ethics in school, because it almost certainly saved my life! It was like a computer re-set. I just stopped thinking altogether.

  Under even the most basic laws of physics, what’s happening to me can’t be happening. It’s impossible. I know enough to know this. I also know that this is happening to me. So I have to rely on myself and the law of the jungle, rather than the fixed laws of science to get out of it. Just imagine if (when!) I get through this; my science thesis at university will be the stuff of absolute legend!

  But for the moment I am trying to ignore the fact that it’s just me who can save the eight billion people who live on our planet. And I must do this before my grade average drops too low …

  Have you ever felt like you're not living up to your potential? That you’re not the best you can be? Because of family, friends, work and school, our phones and other technology, sports and other hobbies, our time and attention are always split. It’s like doing loads of work for a test, but watching TV or going out with friends the night before. Then your test marks aren’t quite what you wanted — say a catastrophic 90% — and you feel deflated. As though you could have done more. So next time you vow to do more work, go that extra mile. Use the extra brain power that’s just lying around, doing nothing.

  It’s not true though. It’s a fallacy that we use 10% of our brains. We use it all, and we use it all the time. Our brain is always active — even when we’re sleeping. (I can definitely vouch for that! These days I do most of my best thinking when Quark is sleeping rather than walking around, living my life!) But our brain is adaptable. I watched one of those TV documentaries a while ago — a real one this time. I think it was the very wonderful Alice Roberts talking about neuroplasticity. She talked about how incredibly adaptable the brain is, how it’s constantly changing in response to learning, experience … or adversity. And if Quark doesn’t amount to adversity, I don’t know what does!

  And I already know I’m capable of this — how else could I have tricked him with the TV interview? And how else would I have created my room, my lair, my castle; every English girl’s home is their castle, the drawbridge of mine just happens be in my head. I now need to strengthen my fortress and to send out patrols to build up a bigger picture of how to drive this invader out of my territory!

  Chapter 22

  SLIPPERY

  Quark can now officially confirm that eating a lot of food doesn’t solve emotional problems! He’s seen people do this on television, but it’s a lie: eating lots of creamy, salty or fatty food (or in his case, all three) is not a panacea for life’s vicissitudes. A little midnight feast had seemed the solution to a day of the greatest confusion and temperamental turmoil.

  But he rapidly learnt that Daisy’s body was not capable of successfully digesting potato crisps, left-over lasagne, mustard, yoghurt, chocolate milk and—

  Actually, that’s where the list of food and drink ingested should end. The body Quark inhabits still does not feel as though it is operating at optimum efficiency. And, to be frank, both ends of the body’s waste disposal system have had quite a sufficient workout.

  He had already made Daisy’s mother aware — in no uncertain terms! — that keeping such a wide range of unsuitable food and beverages within reach of an irresponsible teenager is inadvisable.

  And he’s still angry at Daisy for the dream which led him to believe he was on the verge not just of conquering her, but also of worldwide fame. And he’s not entirely convinced the dream was the accident she claimed it to be. He’d found it strangely satisfying to trash her reputation at school with her precious Maths test and foolish head teacher. Although in retrospect, he felt something akin to … guilt? This was an unfathomable reaction for an entity set on destroying every living thing on the planet. Regardless, her response was petty!

  However, his way of recovering from the upset of his lack of fame and his day of sensory overload was not Quark’s finest hour. Yesterday had not been pleasant. He’d tried to discuss things with Daisy’s father and brother, but it seemed that too much information was unwelcome. Quark doesn’t understand this as clearly one of the few things Daisy’s body is very good at is expelling — but no, he remembers: do not go into detail about such things. In any case, the eating solution failed during the night and the talking solution failed during the day.

  This leaves him to try to sort things out by himself. But actually, that’s not true, is it? He doesn’t understand what talking to the hand is, but he knows he can talk to the mirror. He does so now. After all, a problem shared is a problem halved. He’s sure Daisy will be more than happy to help him …r />
  “Daisy? You in there? Silly question I know: you very clearly are in there!” He essays a grin. “After all, where else would you be?” He pauses, a self-satisfied smirk on Daisy’s face. “Please come out, Daisy. We really need to talk.”

  “What do you want?” comes the huffy response.

  “Ah, finally! Where have you been, dear?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know? And don’t call me dear. I am not now, and nor will I ever be your dear.”

  “Well, you are touchy, aren’t you?”

  “I can’t imagine why that should be, can you? Unless you also have a vicious alien monster camping out inside you.”

  “Your opinion is irrelevant in the face of the overwhelming force of nature.”

  “Nature? There’s nothing natural about you. You are preposterous. You cannot exist. You are a figment of someone’s warped imagination.”

  “And yet I am here in your head. No one would believe you if you told them. You cannot call the police or the fire brigade or the army. You cannot go running to mummy. There is no one who can help you. The cavalry will not charge over the hill to rescue you.”

  “Get out of my head!” Daisy yells, in as loud an imaginary, stampy-foot voice as she can summon from the virtual nothingness in which she currently resides.

  “Well, strictly speaking I have all of you, not just your head.”

  “Ha! But you don’t, do you? You don’t have all of me! You don’t have the bit I’m in now.”

  “Only a matter of time though, Daisy. You can’t stay in there forever, now can you? Your life is disordered at the moment. In fact, as I have discovered, mankind’s entire existence is based on an entirely flawed system of chaos. This cannot last. Order must emerge. You have to come out, eventually.”

  “Why? Why do I? Us teenagers spend most of our time in dark rooms. And I tell you: order is not gonna emerge from what you call chaos. That’s not how being a teen works. All that results from chaos is more chaos. And I have no incentive to come out. You’re doing the eating. And the over-eating. You’re doing pretty much everything in fact. I’m just doing the stuck in a dark room thing…”