by Anthology
“No!” said Paresh. “You can’t tell anyone!”
“Why, do they have ray guns?”
“I don’t know what they have. They don’t even have hands, so ray guns are out of the question. But the…alien thing—”
“The Blarbsnarb representative.”
“The Blarbsnarb rep threatened to destroy the planet if I said no. They might do that if we talk about the deal.”
Sita rolled her eyes. “That planet-destroying shit is absurd. It’s got to be a bluff. They want your body like I do, and they’re going to pay for—” She put her head in her hands. “That is not where I wanted that sentence to go.”
Paresh chuckled. “Yes, I went down that road too.”
She gestured at him with the piece of waffle on her fork, syrup dripping on the table. “You should find out the details of the deal, what happens to you and how you get the money. Don’t sign anything until you read all the fine print.”
Paresh promised not to sign anything until he read all the fine print.
At the time, he meant it.
***
The blob appeared that afternoon in the Oracle bathroom. Thankfully, Paresh had completed his business.
“This is highly inappropriate,” he said.
“You did not leave appropriate hours and means by which to contact you,” said the blob. Paresh had forgotten how discordant its voice was. Hoping no one had heard it, he went to lock the door only to realize that the door had no lock. The blob continued, “We have increased our offer by 10% and have prepared the paperwork.”
“Let me see it,” he said, and a tiny wormhole opened up between them. Out popped three stacks of paper, which hovered in the air. White, yellow, and pink.
“Please sign and return the white copy,” said the blob. “The yellow copy is for you to keep.”
“And the pink copy?”
“The pink copy belongs to your partner.”
“Don’t you think that’s kind of sexist?”
The blob blinked. So that’s where its eyes were. “You may take the pink copy if it is sexiest.”
Paresh plucked the stack of white paper out of the air and began to look it over. He knew he ought to have a lawyer review it—at the very least someone like Carey in Contracts could take a look—but how could he even begin to explain what it was for? He didn’t want people at work talking about him like he was crazy. He read quickly; someone could walk in on them any minute.
He had to give the Blarbsnarb credit: they were pretty fluent in legalese. Paresh, sadly, was not. Had the contract been written in Java, he would have stood a chance at comprehending what they intended to do to his body. As it was, he understood that there would be a transition period following the completion of the transaction in which the terms of the possession would be finalized.
Paresh thought of what he could do with eleven million dollars. Forget remodeling the kitchen, they could buy a new house, a bigger one where they could start a family. He could quit his job and be a stay-at-home dad (Sita would never quit her job; she loved it too much). It was such an obscene amount of money that he didn’t know what he could do with it all, but he knew it would remove obstacles and pave the way for a brighter future. As long as they had a future. The phrase “destruction of your planet” came back to him.
He signed the contract.
In several different places. They were really fluent in legalese.
***
When he handed Sita the pink copy, she said, “This is the pink copy.”
“Yes?” he said, pretending not to know what she was getting at.
“Where’s the white copy? The real copy?”
Paresh said nothing. He looked up at the ceiling.
Sita spoke calmly. “Do you remember this morning when you made what we humans like to call a ‘promise’?”
Paresh recalled all of his rationalizations, and now they seemed insufficient. Sita loved their house. The kitchen counters were chipped, but she knew the layout by heart. Why would she want to sell a place she could navigate with her eyes closed? (Sometimes she did walk around the house with her eyes closed. Once she bumped into the living room sofa, and that was only because Paresh had moved it a few inches to retrieve the remote without setting it back.)
He hadn’t done it for her. He had done it for him.
“I’m sorry, honey,” he said. “I thought it was for the best, but I should have brought it home.”
“Did you at least read the fine print?” she asked.
It had all been fine print. “I read…most of it.” The ceiling became very interesting to him again. They could repaint the ceiling. That would be a good use of money.
“Most of it,” she said.
“You know, by not refusing the deal, I kind of saved the world.” He shot Sita a hopeful glance.
“You kind of did it without me.” Sita chose not to stare at the ceiling, or even the floor. She looked right into Paresh’s eyes. “I’m going to bed.”
Paresh watched her leave. He waited, expecting the blob to appear, since this was an inconvenient time in his life. But he was left standing alone in the kitchen. He stood there for an hour before joining his wife.
***
The next morning, Paresh woke to find his wife sitting up with her arms crossed, glaring at him. “No more signing away your body without consulting me,” she said. “Deal?”
“Deal,” muttered Paresh.
“Did you find out how the process works? If you’re a subsidiary, they should let you stay in there, and we can work out how to spend the money.”
Paresh shrugged.
“Paresh, dear, I love you, but you have the business sense of a marmoset.” Sita poked him. “We need to contact the Blarbsnarb. This is a huge transaction; they ought to be more transparent.” Then she threw the covers off. “Wait, I’ve got a better idea.”
Sita walked out of the bedroom and returned with the pink copy of the contract. She tossed it to Paresh. “Let’s get some answers.”
Paresh turned to the first page of the contract and began to read it aloud.
***
“That was incredibly thorough,” said Sita.
“I did say they were fluent in legalese.”
“You think they’re a whole race of lawyers? Like maybe somewhere out there lawyers evolved into horned blobs bent on intergalactic domination?”
Paresh restrained himself from making a lawyer joke. Sita had set him up for so many responses, and he could see her trying to guess which one he would use. But it would have been so easy, like signing a contract without reading every word.
Sita’s face fell. “Come on, not even ‘You mean they haven’t already?’ It’s the low-hanging fruit.”
Paresh drew her close. “A lawyer might be our only way to understand this deal. I should treat them with respect. For now.”
According to the contract, the next step in the process was to begin removing redundancies. Paresh had authorized the Blarbsnarb to make changes as they saw fit, evaluating his body for its capabilities in relation to human function versus its utility after the blob took possession. Even having read the fine print, he was unclear on his status after the process was complete. The word “annihilated” appeared nowhere, which was promising.
“You’ve read me better stories in bed,” said Sita. “But I love the main character in this one. I was very invested in his fate.”
“Sorry for the spoilers,” said Paresh.
“Seriously!” said Sita. “Now I’m going to be sitting here waiting to see how the Blarbsnarb eliminate redundancies.”
Paresh’s appendix burst and he screamed.
As she drove him to the hospital, she shook her head and repeated, “I’m not saying anything ever again. I’m not saying anything ever again.”
The operation went smoothly, and Sita sat by his bed and held his hand. Her hand was the first thing he felt as he regained the ability to feel. He squeezed it.
“I forgot I still had th
at thing,” he said weakly.
“Not anymore you don’t,” she said.
“They could have given me some sort of warning.”
“They’re not legally required to,” she said. “California is an at-will state.”
“That leaves the rest of my body in a very precarious position.”
The blob appeared at the foot of the bed. Sita yanked Paresh’s hand in surprise, Paresh yelped in pain, and the blob yodeled in glee. Or distress. “We are pleased to see that the termination of your appendix has been successful. We do wish it the best and thank it for its many years of service.”
“The appendix doesn’t do anything,” said Sita, taking Paresh’s hand again.
“We thank it for its many years of service,” the blob repeated.
“That really hurt,” said Paresh. “I would appreciate a heads up next time.” He scanned the blob, not seeing any clear distinction between head and body. But if they knew what an appendix was, they knew what a head was.
“We apologize for the inconvenience. Per your request, I am informing you that we have identified a redundancy in your mitochondria. You will not require them.”
“My midicholorians?”
“Mitochondria,” said Sita. “How could you forget the powerhouses of the cell? They make all the energy in your body.” She slapped his head lightly. “Paresh, I have a poster of one in my classroom.”
He looked away and smiled to himself. He remembered almost nothing of what Sita’s classroom looked like because whenever he visited, he was so focused on how in her element she was when teaching. Poised and animated, she spoke about topics he knew nothing about with such passion that he wished he’d had her in high school instead of Mrs. Klages.
“Right,” said Paresh. “How could I forget? Those things. Sounds like I need them, though.”
The blob shook its head, which allowed Paresh to see the subtle distinction. “The Blarbsnarb equivalent are twenty times more efficient and powerful. They will now be replaced.”
Paresh, who was still groggy to this point, jerked fully awake. “How now is now?”
“It is done,” noted the blob with triumph. Or disinterest. It was so hard to tell with it.
Paresh tried to sit up, raise his head. Sita had said he had trillions of cells in his body. He must have had trillions of midichlo—mitochondria. And now they were gone, and he had alien substitutes in his body. Did that make him a hybrid? Was he even human anymore? He felt human. Sita stared at him like he might not be.
She turned to the blob. “Will there be any side effects? What if his body rejects the alien organelles?”
The blob scoffed, an expression represented by a shift in the density of blob in its upper half. “His body was deemed suitable for this procedure before it was conducted. He will experience no complications beyond enhanced productivity.”
Paresh found it much easier to sit up now. His head felt clearer. He heard a faint hum emanating from his body, like white noise from his laptop.
“I appreciate these enhancements, but I don’t know if I’m comfortable living the rest of my life with alien…stuff.” Having an alien inside his body was one thing, but if his body was also part-alien, that was weird (his bar for weird had also risen recently).
“Per the contract, corporeal incorporation requires modification of the asset.”
“His asset is just fine,” said Sita.
“I don’t like this,” said Paresh. “It’s creepy.”
The blob hummed with excitement or disapproval. “By expressing concern regarding the original arrangement, you have authorized the alternative arrangement specified in Section XII, Clause 23.”
Sita squeezed Paresh’s hand. “What did he just authorize?”
The blob remained silent for a few seconds, as if the answer should have been obvious. “He will go into you.” The sandpapery voice made the statement sound more ominous.
“Into me?” repeated Sita. “There’s no room in here for him. Do you understand how humans work?”
“We have conducted an extensive study of human body-self conformational metaphysics, and we believe that one body can contain two selves, as outlined in the terms of the contract.”
Paresh didn’t know how he’d leapt past weird and into bizarre without even trying. Did the Blarbsnarb allow for takebacksies? He would ask for a second ruling, but he suspected that Carey in Contracts was not well versed in clauses this esoteric.
Sita, however, was a teacher, and she spoke with confidence about subjects she knew much about and even greater confidence about subjects she knew nothing about. “The original agreement was made between the Blarbsnarb and Paresh. As I am not a signatory on the contract, you have no authority to modify my body.”
Paresh didn’t know the word “signatory” could sound so sexy.
The blob replied with exasperation, its rough voice somehow becoming high-pitched. “Section XII, Clause 23 clearly states that for the purposes of this arrangement the undersigned and spouse of undersigned, if one exists, are equal by law, dependent on tax filing status.”
Paresh groaned. “We file…jointly.”
Sita bit her lip. “I know the accountant said there were some minor disadvantages, but I don’t think she meant this.”
Then she held up a finger, smiling brightly. “I contest that Paresh’s statement constituted an expression of concern.” She punctuated this assertion with a triumphant, emphatic nod.
The blob sighed, or possibly farted. Paresh sniffed the air but still couldn’t tell. Before he could ask for clarification, the blob spoke. “I must consult with the Board on this matter. You will hear from us shortly.” The blob disappeared.
“If this works,” said Paresh, “all it means is that I get to live with that thing inside me.”
“Maybe if we confuse them enough, they’ll leave us alone,” said Sita.
***
On the drive home, Paresh spotted his least favorite kids at the bus stop and asked Sita to stop. They climbed out of the copper 1991 Sentra to sneers of “Hey, it’s Apu and Mrs. Apu!” Paresh was disappointed they didn’t know that Apu’s wife was named Manjula.
“It’s Jimbo!” bellowed Paresh, throwing his hands in the air. He jabbed a finger at each boy as he continued, “And Preston! And Clifford!”
The kids stopped their hollering, confused. Their apparent leader sputtered, “Whatever, man, my name—”
Paresh had alien midichlorians and no more fear. “The other day I met an alien blob I respect more than you because it respects me more than you do. And so I saved the world. All of it. Even you.”
Sita looked at him like she didn’t care whether he was human, that was the hottest he had been in all their years of marriage. She pulled him in for a deep, passionate kiss. Out of the corner of his eye, Paresh thought he saw her give the boys the finger. They weren’t her students, but they did just get schooled.
Paresh and Sita returned to the car, leaving the boys standing with expressions almost as indecipherable as the blob’s.
As they drove off, Paresh rolled down the window and yelled with a fist in the air, “And it said my complexion was optimal! Optimal!”
***
Sita experimented with barbecue chicken pasta for dinner, combining barbecue sauce and marinara sauce in what Paresh thought were haphazard amounts.
They ate in relative silence. This concoction tasted better than that mustard pizza from a couple nights ago—from the night his troubles began. What had possessed him to agree to this arrangement (ha, possessed)? Maybe he could blame it on the pizza.
Paresh tried to pick apart the mélange of flavors in his mouth. He didn’t think a slight tinge of barbecue would be so pleasant in tomato sauce. He slurped up some of the remaining sauce in his plate.
“That was really good!” he said.
“So what the hell are we going to do?” she said.
“If they buy your legal argument, then at least I get to stay in my body. Maybe there’s
a loophole to get out of the thing entirely.”
“We read through the whole contract. I didn’t see anything.”
Paresh shook his fork at her. Unfortunately, the fork still had sauce on it. Fortunately, the sauce didn’t reach her. “We’re not lawyers or aliens. We wouldn’t.”
Sita stood up and began clearing the table. “There is also the issue of money.” She reached for Paresh’s plate.
Paresh grabbed her wrist. “We don’t need the money. We never had it anyway. I’d rather be myself than myself plus an alien plus money.” He let her go.
Sita took his plate. “You’d rather be yourself plus money.”
He looked her right in the eyes. “I’d rather be myself plus you.”
***
That night while Paresh was being himself plus Sita, the blob appeared by the bed. Sita screamed—a different sort of scream than she’d been making a few seconds ago—and toppled off Paresh. Paresh let loose a stream of creative expletives.
Out of breath, Paresh said, “Has anyone told you guys you have the worst timing imaginable?”
The blob gazed upon their naked bodies and appeared to blush, a subtle red shimmer that coursed over its body for a second. “I apologize for interrupting your mating ritual. The Board has reviewed the statement and determined it to be legally binding. The alternative arrangement has been authorized.”
Sita pulled the comforter over her. “So he’ll go inside me?” She looked at Paresh, scanned down, and chuckled at her choice of words.
“His being will be temporarily relocated into your body until it can find a suitable home,” said the blob, apparently still unclear on how humans worked. Sita had said there was no room for him, and he believed the woman with the graduate degree. For an intelligent alien species, they did not seem to have done all the necessary research.
“What if he says no?” asked Sita. She pulled Paresh close to her, away from the blob. “What if he backs out of the contract?”
The blob looked puzzled. “Why would he refuse to proceed with what has been agreed upon? We are offering appropriate compensation for the body.”