Becoming the Dragon

by Alex Sapegin

  What in the world did they send him for? He hasn’t got the slightest clue what’s going on, yet he expects a report. He’s putting on airs as goodness knows what…

  “You’re allotted sizable funds; the administration is interested in the quickest possible results. Money should be making more money, not settling into useless scraps of iron!” That comment had set Iliya off from the beginning.

  What a jerk! No one ever promised a quick turnaround! The project’s preliminary duration estimate was five years. It has been three. What’s the point of running in circles? The administration can send all the Poindexters and pencil-pushers it wants; that won’t speed up the work. We have already reached milestones that other countries are still struggling with, accomplished at least enough for two Nobel prizes. Investments in science should be made with long-term returns in mind, not instantaneous gratification.

  “I admit that was a mistake” The inspector’s words brought him back to the conversation. “But just think; I don’t have a heap of time, only a handful of hours. I understand, of course, that a few hours on site won’t enlighten me about your work, but I have to present results to the higher-ups. Even if the progress is minuscule, funding for your project next year depends on it. Opponents to our projects will seek to decrease investment in this area at the next board meeting, so it’s in your best interests to shut them up! And there’s no need to furrow your brows at me; I’m not responsible for our current difficulties!”

  Iliya simply exhaled through his clenched teeth. It’s just like some of the bosses to abandon research halfway through; it’s happened before. The whole group was scattered then; people got out of science and went to work as janitors. A couple of the promising ones moved to America, obviously not to sweep the streets.

  What a pain it was to find a new group of colleagues! And now, to throw it all away again? Not on your life! If they were so ravenous, let them eat ’til they choke! The equipment could be run on idle. The inspector would jump for joy.

  “Denis, start the device,” he commanded his young assistant.

  “Starting up, sir.”

  The lights in the building flickered. The walls vibrated slightly; the diesel power plant’s axles began to spin. The operators took their places in front of their computer screens and control monitors. Testing began.

  “The shielding of the external electromagnetic circuit and peripheral field are activated.”

  “The external circuit; we’re at 30 percent power, sir! The accumulators are in start-up mode; 50 percent, sir. The internal circuit’s at 50 percent power. It’s going into idle mode, sir.”

  “Metamaterial and dielectric polarizers deployed. Electromagnetic blocks activated.”

  “We have quantization…”

  “What are the guards doing?” the external video surveillance guy suddenly broke out, breaking the strict communication protocol in panicked exclamations “There’s an object on the active field! I’ll kill you, you—”

  Iliya cut him off. “What’s going on?”

  “Unauthorized person on the site!”

  “Visual on the main screen!” Iliya cried, his blood running cold with a terrible apprehension. Oh, God! In the middle of the grounds, dropping his papers and grabbing his head, stood Andy! Iliya’s son bent forward. He took a step and then…

  “Holy mackerel!” Denis gasped in awe at his screen. “The transfer chamber’s showing zero, and there’s some kind of trick on the external field!” The main operator hit the red emergency abort button to drop the load and deactivate the device.

  It was too late; an oval-shaped “window” appeared before Andy, through which Iliya could see a coniferous forest stretching back to the mountains in the distance. Andy took another step.

  “Nooooo!” Iliya threw himself at the screen as if that could stop the boy. “Andy-y-y!”

  When Andy disappeared from view, the window closed and a round shockwave spread from the very center of the grounds, sweeping over the accumulators in its wake.

  An oppressive silence hung over the operator’s room, broken only by the quiet sobs of the project’s leader, on his knees in front of the main screen.

  He could be anywhere…

  ***

  “Momma!” was the only thing Andy managed to spit out before his chest snapped the first twig at the top of the pine tree. After that, all of the sensations a slipper experiences came toppling down on him. His body snapped the thinner branches and banged flatly against the thick ones as he fell about halfway down the trunk, where he caught a fat bough in the crotch. It diminished the blow of the teenager’s weight and bent, breaking from the trunk. Several more branches later, Andy crashed to the ground. One of the several large pine cones hurled from above with him landed right on his head and knocked him out.

  Not one thought—only the pounding pain in the back of his skull pulled at Andy in the darkness. A wave of a thousand shivers ran over his body, returning the feeling to his numb limbs. His nose itched, making him sneeze, although chills swept over his whole body in a chaotic wave. The feeling of bugs crawling all over his arms, legs, and face grew stronger. Ow! He felt he’d been stabbed with a red-hot needle in his right nipple. He howled in pain, giving his sleeping brain a kick. Red-hot needles swept over his whole body in a burning wave. Ow! Stop! Consciousness came flooding back as if someone had flipped a switch in his head. Andy opened his eyes and tried to sit up; he hadn’t the strength to stand.

  His jaw dropped at the sight before him, but he closed it right away so no ants couldn’t get in. Thousands of them scurried over him and around him, similar to the red wood ants he was familiar with back home but were twice as big and, by all appearances, meaner. And with that thought, a few of the little buggers chomped down on his wrist. His arm burned as if from a stinging nettle. Instead of a bite, a couple of drops of blood appeared on his skin.

  Brutal little pests! Hold on you! What? It’s lunchtime, and you’ve already decided on the menu? I’d like to know how long I was laying here before they decided to bite me, Andy thought.

  Judging by how actively the ants moved, his appetizing carcass was to be the main course, and they weren’t in the least worried by his objections.

  There are a lot of them, and only one of me—and all I can do is hobble like an elephant! His sudden movements angered the ruddy things, and with tripled energy, they took to stripping the fillets and other parts.

  What are they doing, the little beasts? It hurts! Andy tried to flick the hungry things off him. You don’t like that, nasty creeps? The creeps didn’t like it; furious ants started dumping formic acid on him, and their cousins, slightly bigger, with big heads and powerful mandibles, joined the red pests.

  I have to get out of here, pronto! The acid in his many abrasions didn’t just hurt; it burned and itched.

  Oh, great! Some of the pests had wriggled their way to his “sacred” parts. Andy patted himself a couple of times in the area of his crotch and stumbled to his feet, then almost tumbled right back down. His head exploded in sharp pain, everything swam before his eyes, and a nauseating lump welled up in his throat. In the next second, his stomach turned inside out, he doubled over, ridding himself of his half-digested food.

  Realizing their lunch might run away at any moment, the ants sent their bigheaded fellow tribesmen to the front and went on the offensive, attacking Andy’s legs and hands, which were stuck firmly to the ground. Andy suddenly forgot about his nausea and headache and began to knock the little aggressors off his arms and legs with a vengeance. The bites of the bigheaded ones were more painful by far, stabbing their jaws two or three millimeters into his skin; they didn’t waste their time on anything less.

  Staggering like a drunkard, going from one tree to another in a zig-zag and grabbing onto every oncoming trunk in order not to fall, Andy left the banquet hall full of disappointed ants. The stream he crossed stripped the insects of any hope of pursuing.

  “Well, Dad, look what you’ve done! The teleport
er!” Andy said. “It’s brought me to the ends of the earth. Interesting… Am I the first ‘teleport-onaut’ or were there other experimental subjects, and where did they end up?”

  He could imagine endless scenarios for “teleport-onauts” but they all had one thing in common—flying to space was nicer than falling from a cedar tree. Neil Armstrong triumphantly declared “One small step…” but Andy only had time to screech some profanity before hitting the ground.

  It’s a good thing I didn’t land over the crater of a volcano! A fried naturalist isn’t good, neither are drowned men eaten by sharks or gnawed on by crabs at the bottom of the ocean. Now if only specks weren’t flying before my eyes and my head didn’t hurt, I’d be swell!

  Andy stopped near a gigantic pine tree, so big that if it were cut down, a couple of pianos could easily be set on the stump. A sequoia! he decided. I’ve read about this kind of tree, but where was it they grew again? Irina blabbed on about different parts of America…

  A whole forest loomed behind the first woody titan, their tree tops tickling the clouds. Which national park? Yellowstone? That didn’t sound right, but his head hurt, and he couldn’t think. So, he was somewhere in the wild United States.

  The pest! Andy slapped himself on the back of the neck, squishing the latest ant in an entire mob of hungry insects that had set out on a journey on his clothes—or what was left of them, to be more precise. Strange, flesh-eating ants didn’t live in North America, their habitat was in hot climates, wasn’t it? Stop. Andy glanced warily in all directions. How could I have forgotten about other predators! Olga enjoys watching animal shows; we have a whole collection of disks on that topic at home, including one about Yellowstone grizzlies, wolves, coyotes and mountain lions, a long list of “cute” creatures I wouldn’t want to meet—and there are also rattlesnakes and various spiders. Yikes! Now, I have to watch my step, too, so I don’t step on some creepy-crawly!

  His headache slowly faded into the background, and the nausea stopped tormenting him. Andy paused near a cluster of large boulders and decided to check his pockets for potentially useful items, anything that might come in handy for survival in the wilderness.

  Hmm, fairly scant. His wallet with a $10 bill. Shoelaces: one pair. A thread wrapped around a piece of paper and a needle to go with it; he was prepared in case a button came off. A pocket knife, made in China. A mechanical wrist watch; he didn’t have a digital watch for obvious reasons. A keychain. No matches, no documents. The entire description of his “riches” took up less than a paragraph. Some Robinson Crusoe I am. Of the whole list, only this little knife could be considered a useful acquisition. The rest is junk.

  “W-a-a-i-a-i-ai, w-a-i-a-i-ai!” Andy heard the strange sound coming from deep in the woods. Glancing around with a start, he hastily stuck his meager belongings back into his pockets. He had no desire to meet the author of the wood song and needed to think about where to spend the night. No matter how he tried to spin it, he would have to crash under the stars for who knew how long. Andy looked at the enormous sequoia and crossed out the idea of sleeping in the redwood grove of the forest. True, there was no underbrush, and he could see for a hundred yards in all directions, but the ground was littered with old wind-fallen trees. The main disadvantage was that the knots only began to appear on the trunks about ten yards up. It would have been useless to try to climb the trees without claws. And a night spent on the ground, more than likely, could end in the belly of some native predator. He had to search for another place, and another place might be downhill.

  He knew the direction of the mountains, their snowy tops shining, the yellow-green wall of the taiga stretched in a dense carpet. He had managed to glimpse that in the instant he’d been falling through the cedar, but had no idea what might lay in the other direction. If there’s no place safe here, perhaps it’s worth a look in the opposite direction?

  Once he had made up his mind, it was as good as done, and in a few minutes, Andy was heartily trekking downhill. It was in his best interest to move his feet along quickly since the memorable “w-a-a-i-ai” rang out a few more times from his right.

  ***

  He froze—and just in time. The gaping drop-off under his feet could have been the final and fatal obstacle for a speed-walker who forgot to look down. Andy estimated the distance, judging by the looks of it, at 200 feet. Had he fallen, no one would have been able to collect all his bones in a million years. He would have become the Humpty-Dumpty of the Yellowstone Canyon.

  A fantastic view opened before Andy from the height of a bald peak. It was a green sea of deciduous trees stretching over the horizon, the foliage overlapping the wide light-blue ribbon of a river. In the center, between a rocky precipice and the river, rose a perfectly round hill.

  About 50 yards below Andy, a fairly small half-circle rock shelf about 5 yards across protruded from the solid wall of basalt-like a little tongue. I found a place to spend the night! He just had to descend to it and have a good look at everything from there.

  He found a good spot for the descent 200 yards to the left of a convenient little trail to his intended sleeping spot. True, he had to huff and puff as he climbed the almost vertical wall to a height of over 20 feet, but no grizzlies or other predators could climb up there.

  When he finished, his fingers were insanely sore, and his knees shook. Clinging to the slightest cracks and supporting myself with my feet on the tiniest ledges—what a rush! The question now, of course, was how would he get back down from his chosen patch of rock, but he would sleep on it.

  ***

  It got dark fast. The last ray of daylight went out and, bypassing the evening twilight, the night came into its own. A myriad of unusually bright stars appeared in the sky. A nearby constellation stood out like the bright beam of a street lamp, and he noticed yet another oddity—there was no milky way in the sky, no Ursa Major or Ursa Minor.

  Perhaps I landed in South America, not North America? What else can explain this completely unfamiliar pattern of stars?

  Andy settled between two large stones still radiating daytime warmth. Warmth is great, but how am I supposed to fall asleep? The moon came out, casting a brilliant glow around itself in the sky, and the nocturnal world came to life no less fervently than the daytime one. The world around him immediately took on dark shadows; crickets and cicadas chirped with all their might; an owl hooted in the woods; and from below, came the sounds of animals calling out to one another in screeches, whistles, and howls. Some formidable creature let out a “sneeze” heard around the world. The Eastern horizon lit up, and …

  Impossible! Andy scampered to his feet. His sleepy stupor vanished. How is this happening! In violation of all astronomical principles, there arose in the dome of the sky a second celestial body. The second rising body reminded him of an image of the Earthrise on the moon. Eyes open wide, everything else vanished from his mind as Andy stared at the exotic view. It’s not a satellite; it’s another planet, blue and full of life! The white spirals of cyclones and the azure of oceans were visible to the naked eye. He could make out the vague outlines of continents in spots.

  “So much for that! Not Yellowstone, not South America,” Andy whispered, swallowing bitter tears. He sat down on the nearest stone. “Where am I, Dad?”

  ***

  He froze like a popsicle; the milky cloud of fog that covered the forest and the rock shelf dragged its damp and chill all along his body. Andy had slept for two hours at most when a loud “mrooouuwn” made him clamber to his feet. Who wouldn’t be sleeping at this hour? The nocturnal brutes had already disappeared into their holes, and the day-life had not yet crawled out. The murky veil of fog hid everything within 30 feet of his shelf. Andy picked up a hefty rock and threw it at the spot where the outline of something living could be seen. “Mraa-uu-w” came from below.

  Look at that! Hit the target on my first try! Something large slipped under the ledge? follow by f heavy sigh came from under the ledge.

  ***


  A slight breeze, like a playful puppy, began to break the fog into pieces and carry it off to the west. The first rays of light from the sun painted the world below in rose-colored hues. “Mrown. Mreoow,” the visitor made himself known.

  Andy lay on his stomach, carefully crawled to the edge of the rock shelf and looked down. “Eeek!” he exclaimed when his eyes met a pair of yellow eyes with vertical pupils.

  He recalled a scene from Lewis Carroll’s story about Alice in Wonderland. “The wide, wide grin means the Cheshire cat’s in!” The member of the feline family that had settled down beneath the shelf was like the famed Cheshire cat’s older brother, only quite a bit bigger—about the size of a tiger or lion. Its grin from ear to ear revealed an immense mouth, strewn with fearsome triangular teeth like a picket fence.

  “Mrooowr,” the Cheshire meowed. “Mram…”

  “Uh-huh, and good morning to you. Have you lost something here?”

  “Mrrrrrow,” the Cheshire meowed once more and started licking its right side.

  “Me? No, man, I disagree! I’m not lost, and why eat me?”

  Why not? The Cheshire stared at him quizzically. How would you like to see yourself as stew meat? Andy’s mind raced as it imagined a conversation with the cat, but he had trouble picturing himself as stew meat. Everything here is so mean and hungry! Did you learn that from the ants?

  “Mrru.” The cat tilted its head to the side.

  The Cheshire came out into the sunlight, stretched all its limbs out by turns and gave Andy a frisky look. “Come out!” it seemed to say. “Let’s play!” Andy imagined what any such games might end with and decided to cancel all play dates.

  “Sorry, cat, but I’ll be better off at home! I’ll remain intact!” Andy informed the feline.

  The tailed creature didn’t seem to take offense. Home was home, and he didn’t have anywhere to hurry off to either.

  “Maybe you could leave me alone?” he asked the Cheshire.

  “Mr-r,” the cat quipped and, turning back to the woods, growled loudly. “Mr-rr-uun!”