The Church of the Transhuman

by Joe Plus

  She shook, she perspired heavily. She began to growl, a low growl, and within seconds started to roar.

  “You are instead my servant, my bondsman, for the Sun has chosen you. You are to fulfill the path that the Sun has set for you, to shine his light to the world. You shall be his envoy, an ambassador for him and his flock.”

  john could feel pulsations in his head and heat of his brow. Her hand pressed harder, the sweat of her palm mingling with the fever sweat of his forehead.

  “I cast you out, spider-witch, weaver, governor of the cursed. I cast you into blackness. I command you, out, out, out.”

  “Christ almighty, please get me out of here,” said John. He opened his eyes and saw her rotten teeth.

  “You are his servant now, and I am his mediator. Through me you serve him.”

  The room lit up and he heard shouts and curses. Soma was pulled backward by priestesses and pounced on by Tele.

  “Soma, what have you done!”

  He heard Nelli’s voice call out: “John, John, John.”

  He collapsed backward, arms splayed and mind falling into nothingness.

  Chapter 43

  Log: 10-23-2044::08:12

  Field Trip: Batang Garing

  Role: Field Lead

  Name: Augusta Green

  Last night the air was so sweet; that delicious, pungent scent. Ai came into the women’s hut and we all made love. It was pure bliss, and I can say with all confidence that my submission is whole. I realize that what I am doing is completely unprofessional, but it feels right. The species gap makes us incompatible I suppose. But I wish so much to bear him children. I know that this is a turning point in my life and I can feel a new start, a fresh beginning. Trish feels it too, and has shown a dedication that I am trying my best to emulate. We attend every gathering of the women and can already speak reasonably well the Ang tongue. Although Trish is the better swimmer we both join the women when they go fishing, which is tough work. I didn’t realize how cold blooded I could be since I started hunting, I have become a real Artemis; getting good with the spear and net. I will kill anything, not only to ensure that there is enough food, but also, to my shame, because I enjoy it. I enjoy the chase and the kill.

  Children are the most precious possession of the Ang and the protective sentiment they feel for them seems to be rubbing off on me. I found a pet otter in the larder eating our cooked fish - food that was meant for the children. I had no hesitation taking a club and beating it to death. I cannot believe I did it, neither can Trish who keeps going on and on about it. Well, it was a tribal pet, and some of the children are still upset. Trish keeps asking: what’s wrong, what’s got into you? Well, nothing’s wrong, I only thought of how much work went into the day’s farming, hunting, and gathering. I gutted and cooked the otter and ate it with Ai. Again I cannot believe I killed without hesitation, without restraint or pity. It is clear to me that I will do anything for these people. Is it some chemical thing, pheromones perhaps?

  Scratch a city girl and will you find a savage? I don’t know.

  Chapter 44

  Malcolm got off the phone, rolled up a joint and poured himself a tumbler of rum. He was fed up with the tiresome activities involved in combining a unit comprising regular Indonesian army and the Reticulum. He liked the regular army guys, but despised the Reticulum.

  Puffed out dickheads who went on a couple of survival courses - how to shit in the woods and all that crap, he thought.

  The Reticulum would get in the way; get themselves shot or die of dysentery, an insect bite or something.

  Stupid cunts.

  He got a call. It was Scrunch. Malcolm hid the joint but left the bottle and tumbler in view.

  “You’re up early,” said Malcolm.

  “Busy, busy. It’s the thirteenth day of the month. Two days to go. How is the planning going?” said Scrunch.

  “Good. I sent a recce patrol out for one last check. I want them to scout the area, point out any dangers, advantages to the enemy or to us, that kind of stuff. We do a final recce in case they have moved to another site, built a fort or set traps or something. Before you know it the enemy is planting land mines and steering a drone squadron. You gotta choose appropriate tactics accurately and at short notice. No word of them yet.”

  “How many men do you have?”

  “Twenty soldiers, ten ambulance victims.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Ten useless turkeys,” said Malcolm.

  “I think you will find,” said Scrunch, “that your so called turkeys are all ex-military.”

  “Maybe,” said Malcolm, taking a slow swig of rum. “But that must have been a long, long time ago for most of them. Your Reticulum security is fat and soft.”

  “Have you shown them the footage?”

  Malcolm had shown images of the remains of those killed during the field trip. He even had a bit of footage that Trish had taken, of fleeting scenes of naked Ang running and frenetically stabbing some of the porters.

  “Oh yes, they loved it, a bit of slapstick for the lads.”

  Scrunch was struggling to contain his annoyance; for the disrespectful tone; for the nonchalance.

  “Malcolm, please listen carefully, these creatures you are about to deal with are extremely dangerous. They have killed many men – loggers, farmers, militia fighters. They are, genetically speaking, a threat to our species.”

  Malcolm laughed and took another swig.

  “Scoff all you like Malcolm, but you must follow my instructions to the letter. We want their DNA, that is all. I want to ask you one last time: do you have any difficulties with what’s required.”

  Malcolm paused and thought. No, he had few qualms about what was required; in fact he had a score to settle.

  “Well, they’re a swimming ape right? So, no real difficulties for me. It’s a a cull right? The ones who escape get stung with the nano-bots so we can track 'em down. If a dirty job has gotta be done, it has gotta be done, right?”

  Scrunch stared blankly, his incisors peeking under his quivering upper lip.

  “Good,” he said, “and good luck.”

  Chapter 45

  Log: 01-01-2045::18:09

  Field Trip: Ang Demographics

  Role: Field Lead

  Name: Augusta Green

  My dearest Anna, forgive me for the delay in writing. It has been seven months to the day that we have been apart, and yet it feels like a lifetime of joy to me, not to be apart, but to have found something that will bring us even closer together, make us truly one. I, although I can barely tolerate the word ‘I’, we are now fully in tune with our Ang sisters; aligned and in harmony. How much better are our lives, how much more relevant, more satisfying. Our past is a dream, superficial and without merit, and our present spent at the feet of love with our wondrous lord, Ai, a new life that is substantial and real. I am sorry my dear sister, I do love you, but nothing can compare with this love, neither the love of the CoT+ nor the love of Bob. Happiness is not in chasing the eternal mirage of a distant perfection, but it is here with the women of the Ang, and with Ai. The world wants is novelty and a release from boredom, whereas here we are pitted against the earth, bound to the soil between our toes, and yet we are free of concern for pointless strivings. I waited so long for rescue, and yet salvation was here all along. I too bring freedom, deliver us from fear. I add to the piles made from our enemies, skulls of men: loggers, miners, palm oil farmers, and bandits. We boil off the skin, and we paint them in many colors, cook in them, drink from them, defecate in them. We are one tribe, and may we never be separated from our sisters and children, may we always be women of our shining light, our lord, Ai, man of love and wrath. I urge you my dear, dear Anna, come find us, and come join us.

  It is dark and time to rest. Who knows what the morning will bring.

  Subvox: 01-02-2045::06::15

  Location: Sabah, Kinabatangan River peninsula

  Name: Augusta Green

  They att
ack us. Many are many dead. Ai is nowhere to be seen. Malcolm is killing my sisters, our children. Trish is gone. Malcolm, that dog, I will kill him – I will skin him – I will eat him.

  Chapter 46

  Scrunch was in the lab talking to Roach about the Ang samples. He was struggling to concentrate; too many issues weighed upon him, and the bad news on a team of Zoologists from Oxford picked at his mind. The Oxford team had been intercepted not far from the Ang territory and Malcolm’s men had disposed of them all; the executions being made to look like the work of a Marxist faction. The possibility of outside competitors with Ang material and international glory worried Scrunch more than the threat of internal competitors.

  An incoming call from his dad. Scrunch was alarmed at the state of him; he looked like shit.

  “Dad, so good to see you. How you doing?”

  Bob was more bloated than ever, and sagged heavily into his wheelchair, his voice hoarse and fragile.

  “My boy, I am what I am and I feel terrible. Doctor says I must lose weight. Scrunch, have you heard these rumors going on?”

  “Which rumors?”

  “The one about my dear Goosie?”

  “No. What? We just got her back, Malcolm’s boys rescued her two days ago.”

  “Well,” said Bob, and he smiled and shook his head, “since the rescue all the women Goosie has spoken to in HQ; Angels, novices, nurses and so on.”

  “Yes…”

  “Well every single one has put in a request to get on the next trip over there, to Borneo, and all keep saying how they want to go over and assist in field work. Can you believe it? Nice girls wanting to go over an wade in the mud and shit.”

  “They all want to go over? I don’t understand.”

  “Sure they do. I have a bunch of around forty requests here on my desk.”

  “Really strange,” said Scrunch.

  “It’s great, my daughter in law, inspiring so many to get their hands dirty for the cause. Angel Watchful called, sounded really worried, I told her not to panic, says two of her novices have booked flight tickets already. They asked their families for financing, that’s how obsessed they were.”

  “That’s odd. Have you read the…”

  “That’s women for you my boy. You know what they’re like when they get an obsession. How is it going with the analyses? Anything yet?”

  “That’s my next meeting. I’m with Roach now for a report.”

  “Hi Roach, tell me about the analyses” said Bob.

  “Good day sir,” said Roach.

  Scrunch interjected before Bob got sidetracked.

  “You read Augusta’s logs right? Have you read the subvoxes detailing her sexual activity?”

  “No, send me a summary will you,” said Bob.

  “I’ll do that. You will read them won’t you?”

  “I will spend a few minutes. Anyway speak to you later.”

  “Speak to you later.”

  Scrunch turned to Roach and puffed out his cheeks.

  “Hear that? Missionary zeal. Nuts.”

  Roach turned to Scrunch, his face stern.

  “So, the results from the tests.”

  “Tell me,” said Scrunch.

  “In my opinion Augusta is psychologically sick, though I am no expert on mental illness. What’s more, she is pregnant. Oh, it’s a female fetus. I guess you knew this already.”

  “No, I did not know this. Why would I? Oh god,” said Scrunch, visibly disgusted, “so Malcolm is guilty after all, no surprises there. I have had the misfortune of knowing that bastard for many years now. Dad loves him, Christ knows why. Yes, he has done it this time.”

  “Oh well,” said Roach, “perhaps he did have sexual relations with her, I don’t know, but he is not the father.”

  Scrunch frowned.

  “Hey, then who is it. Some jungle slope? Just spit it out.”

  Roach looked down at his feet.

  “In fact,” he said.

  “Tell me Roach.”

  “I thought that you already knew. Augusta’s child’s father is, well…”

  “Tell me.”

  “…the fetus has twenty-three chromosomes from her mother…”

  “Yeees. Go on.”

  …and another twenty-three from one of our aquatic men. Augusta’s little girl is a true hybrid species,” Roach stared directly into Scrunch’s eyes, looking for a hint, and indication of a secret, “an impossible feat, because the divergence between our species is - as I have previously made clear - too great for conception through natural means. It has to be have been achieved artificially, in a lab like this one. I thought you were behind it and I thought that my work was just for the books.”

  Scrunch, visibly shaken, steadied himself. So, her subvoxes are not records of delusions. This shit happened. “No, I didn’t know. I did not know about this Roach. Christ, keep it to yourself. What stage is the fetus? How many weeks?”

  “Oh, first trimester, eight weeks give or take.”

  Scrunch paused and contemplated the implications. Was his father running another secret program? Impossible. “Roach, do the math for Christ’s sake. We found her two weeks ago and yet she is two months pregnant. Conception has to have been natural.”

  “I find it hard to believe. Perhaps there are some facts that even you are unaware of.”

  “Dammit man don’t speak to anyone else about this, O.K? Including the team, understood?”

  “Sure. I won’t say a word. Only the lab-techs know,” said Roach, stepping tensely from one foot to the next.

  Scrunch groaned.

  “O.K. well, no one outside the lab. I want to find out how this could have happened. So, you think another lab?” Scrunch paced about, his hand under chin and head forward. He resembled a wrinkled lollipop on a stick. “Perhaps it’s…no. Think again, what is the real possibility, the possibility that it was not done in the lab?”

  “Real possibility? Next to none,” said Roach.

  “Prenatal development is eight weeks. How could they have set this up, and why would they do it?” Scrunch paced up and down and muttered to himself. “No, it could not have been done in the lab. I would have known. The Reticulum report to me only. I know everything that goes on in this organization. You say impossible, but evolution is unpredictable, chaotic and stranger things have happened. Still, I will set up an investigation. Keep those team members in the know to a minimum. Clear?”

  “Clear.”

  What if it is true? he thought, Is there another research program of which I am not aware? No way.

  The thought of natural conception clawed and snagged at his thoughts.

  If it is natural, then here we go again, more uncontrolled speciation and god knows what consequential problems. No, we must go back to Borneo and finish off these Ang. This time they must be destroyed. I cannot afford to let anyone have control over the materials. We’ve got the tissue, DNA, good backups. But we must eliminate…remove them all before it’s too late; too late for humanity.

  Scrunch frowned. He needed to get away and set the Reticulum to work. “We must get hold of Augusta right away. Where is she?”

  “Why, I thought she was still over in Detroit in detox. That’s where I sourced her DNA.”

  “Oh god, under Yoshida’s care, dammit,” said Scrunch.

  Yoshida could fuck up everything, he thought.

  He thanked Roach for his effort and his time and reiterated with veiled threats the need for secrecy in the matter.

  To be safe he would have to act immediately. He would get hold of Augusta and hide her away somewhere, then take complete control of the labs. Now was the best time to make a move. Bob was old, senile, and vulnerable, and seemed of late to have become mistrustful of his own family, opening the door for many contenders for his favor, many manipulative members of the board. Scrunch felt O.K. about it; he was well connected, he was rich, he knew who his enemies were, and he had the Reticulum. He picked up a squeeze-ball in the form of a mouse, and watched
as its head bulged out from his clenched fist.

  Better call that psycho Yoshida before she gets going. God, maybe I’m too late already.