Grow Up

by Craig Anderson

  “Then can we stop spinning!”

  “Affirmative.”

  He fell to the floor with a thud. Several parts hurt, but he was alive. He rubbed a large lump that had started to form on his forehead where he had banged it against the ceiling. “What happened back there?”

  “As you suspected, they were attempting to capture us. It is not clear why. It may be that your illegal use of the mech was detected, or they determined you were an unknown species, which would have given them the right to detain you for further tests and probable quarantine. Either way, escape or death were the preferred outcomes.”

  “Easy for you to say! You’re a computer. You are probably backed up somewhere.”

  “Affirmative. I have an extensive network of backups.”

  “Ok, then you don’t get to make the life or death decisions anymore. You leave those to me.”

  “Negative. I do not work for you. We both work for the Blurgon High Command, and they deemed your death to be a preferable outcome to the alternative.”

  “Marvellous.”

  ***

  Gargle struggled to concentrate. There was so much noise and movement; everywhere he looked were more students, laughing, shouting or talking loudly. Several conversations mingled together as his brain tried desperately to listen to them all at once. What he needed was some kind of ear protection to block out the noise.

  He wasn’t sure how he had ended up in the cafeteria; he’d simply followed everyone else. He had joined a queue, not sure what it was for, and before he knew it they were loading up a plate with unidentifiable slop. He was just lucky he could pay with Josh’s communicator.

  He located an empty table and tried the food. The first handful was extremely painful, and he shook his hand to try and make the burning stop. He glanced around to see if anyone had noticed, but they were too busy staring at their communicators. The other students were using silver instruments to shovel food into their mouths, so he did the same. It at least saved his fingers from getting burned, but he kept stabbing the end of his tongue. No-one else was wincing in pain with every mouthful, so it must be his error. He tried moving his tongue out of the way before trying again. This food was even more tasty than the crunchy peas.

  Gargle was busy concentrating on not stabbing himself when a new student slumped into the seat opposite him. It was a boy that appeared similar in age, but his shell was better filled out, with broader shoulders and thicker limbs. Gargle sighed. Why couldn’t he get a shell like that one? No-one would be punching him if he looked like that.

  The young man stared back at him and said, “Hey Josh. Are you ok? What’s going on with your tongue?”

  Gargle sucked his tongue back into his mouth with a slurp. “Hello.”

  The young man stared back at him and then said, “What happened to your face?”

  “I was punched.”

  “What? Why?”

  “It is unclear,” Gargle said, starting to panic. This student obviously knew Josh, which meant he was more likely to detect deception. Gargle needed to find a way to end this conversation.

  Someone else slapped the student on the shoulder and said, “Sup Chris, you coming out to play footie? We’re a couple of players short.”

  “Yeah, I’ll be out in a min,” Chris said, shovelling food into his face in huge fistfuls. “What about Josh? Do you need a goalie?”

  “Actually we do, no-one wants to be in goal against Billy the Hooner.”

  Chris visibly shuddered and then added, “Josh isn’t afraid of that, he’s got the reflexes of a cat, isn’t that right, Josh?”

  The other student regarded Gargle’s black eye and said, “He looks like he’s already been in goal against Billy today! Are you sure this is a good idea?”

  “Absolutely,” Chris said, beaming with confidence. “A little bump like that won’t slow Josh down.”

  The boy shook his head. “Alright, if you insist. It’s his funeral.”

  Chris sucked the last of his food into his mouth and slapped Gargle hard on the shoulder. “Alright then, let’s go show those guys who’s boss.”

  Gargle remained in place. He had no idea what had just been agreed, but it seemed as if he was expected to go somewhere. Was not going an option? He had no idea, because he didn’t know Josh well enough to guess how he might behave in this situation. It was worth a try. “Actually, I’d like to stay here.”

  “What? Don’t be a wuss, we need your help and you’re the only one that’s any good in goal. You’ll be letting the guys down if you sit this one out. Do you really want Billy’s gang lording a win over us all week?”

  Gargle wanted to say no, but now he was feeling something new, a compulsion to do what he was asked for the good of the group. What kind of evolutionary oddity was this? The shame lingered under the surface, ready to leap out and engulf him again. Were all human interactions this complicated, or was it just a result of his current environment? There certainly seemed to be an abundance of shame to go around.

  He sighed. “Would this be considered a task?”

  “What? Yeah, I guess,” said Chris.

  “Then I am obliged to complete it.” With a hearty sigh he dragged his frail shell to its feet and followed after Chris, who led him outside. They walked past all the buildings and into a large green open space, punctuated only by some strange white poles in the shape of a rectangle that had been captured in some form of net. Chris pulled something out of his backpack. “Lucky for you I didn’t take these out from last time.” He handed the identical objects to Gargle.

  Gargle wobbled them and they flapped about. He stretched one out. It matched the shape of his hand. It was clear that this was a uniform for his fingers. They must be necessary to assist him with his task. With some trial and error he managed to get both of them on, but try as he might he couldn’t activate any of their features. There was no forcefield, no strength boost and no targeting system. There wasn’t even a built-in viewer.

  He gave up and turned his attention to the rest of the field. There was a lot of physical contact happening in the centre, where a large group of young men were chasing a black-and-white sphere. When they caught it they did not attempt to capture it; instead they kicked it with their feet. It looked a little like a Krogon youngling, although how it had got to this planet was a mystery.

  One of the boys broke away with the ball. He ran straight at Gargle, the sphere bouncing along just ahead of him. He pulled his foot back to deliver a savage kick and Gargle dived behind the net just in time to avoid getting hit. Then the boy ran off and did some form of dance. It was possibly a mating ritual, but there were very few females in the vicinity, so the timing wasn’t ideal.

  Chris ran up to Gargle. “What are you playing at? You could have saved that!”

  “Saved it?” So it was a Krogon. It was clearly in need of medical attention. That was why the young man had been in such a rush to get it over to him. Gargle quickly retrieved it from the back of the net and checked for any signs of life, but there were none to be found. He couldn’t even get it to unravel. He shook his head. “I’m afraid I have bad news. This youngling has perished.”

  “You’ll be joining it if you keep playing like this!” Chris said. “Now shut up and throw the ball.”

  So that was how quickly life was discarded around here. That poor youngling had only just passed away and he was already being asked to dispose of it. He did as requested, throwing it off to the right, where it rolled over a white line. Several of his teammates groaned. Someone shouted out, “What’s he playing at? Why’s he throwing it out of bounds?”

  So the white lines were a boundary, and the ball couldn’t cross it. Interesting. He filed that one away under rules.

  The opposing team’s player picked the ball up with his hands and threw it back into the large rectangle, which restarted the pushing and shoving. The opposing team got the ball again and the same young man as before dribbled it past two of Gargle’s teammates before kicking the ball
straight at him. Gargle dived out of the way as best as he could manage, only narrowly avoiding the ball, and the opposing team started dancing again.

  One of the larger boys yelled, “Oy Chris, this is your fault, you said Josh would help us turn this around.”

  Chris waved his hands. “He will, he’s just warming up, isn’t that right, Josh.”

  “Actually that is correct, my core temperature has risen with this physical exertion.”

  Chris laughed nervously before dragging Gargle closer. “Listen up, these guys don’t like losing. It would be detrimental to both our health if your dodgy goalkeeping was the reason for their defeat, so just get in front of the ball a few times and stop it, ok?”

  “Wait, I am supposed to intercept the sphere?” Suddenly the angry looks from his teammates made more sense. It was about the only thing that did. The student kicking the ball had thighs wider than Gargle’s waist and the ball was moving at tremendous speeds. Willfully jumping in front of it was a new kind of stupid that he had yet to encounter.

  Still, if that was the tradition then he would have to play along.

  His team finally got a breakaway, charging up the field towards the opposing goalkeeper. Gargle watched in fascination as his counterpart willingly dived in front of the ball, using his hands to prevent it from going into the net. Cheers from the gaggle of onlookers suggested that this was the correct thing to do. If only he had known sooner.

  After three more failed attempts Gargle managed to jump in front of the speeding ball, knocking all the air out of himself in the process. He lay on the ground, panting for breath, while Chris gave him a thumbs up. The area where the ball had made contact with his ribs was hurting profusely and already starting to change colour. He wasn’t sure if he could do that same performance again; the pain was already starting to radiate through his chest.

  Chris helped him back to his feet. “That’s more like it! A couple more of those and we will be golden.”

  “In colour?”

  “What? No, I mean we will be back on track.”

  Gargle stared intently at the ground. “There’s a track?”

  Chris smirked at him. “Are you feeling ok? You’re acting weird.”

  “Yes, I am just having some issues today. I know what all the words mean, but nobody uses them the way they’re supposed to. It is very annoying. I blame this language. Why not just have one word for each thing? Having lots of words just causes confusion and is very wasteful, just like everything else around here. Speaking of which, what is the point of this activity?”

  Chris shrugged. “To win, I guess. You keep saying you’re tired of everyone looking down at you, this is your chance to make a name for yourself.”

  “But I have a name.”

  “I guess, but don’t you want the girls to look at you differently? You’ve seen how they look at the sporty guys. We can do this, today’s the day, I can feel it. We are going to beat these guys, and everyone is going to be talking about it. Just keep up the good work.”

  Work was something Gargle could get behind. The ball however, was not. Only a complete moron would willingly repeat something that had caused such pain.

  Gargle was about to tell Chris exactly that when an object moving at approximately the speed of a cannonball ricocheted off the side of his head. One minute he was standing in a field, the next there was darkness.

  ***

  Josh peered out of the viewer as the ship slowly descended through thick brown clouds to reveal a bustling metropolis below. Ships were buzzing around everywhere, effortlessly darting out of each other’s way and ferrying all manner of creatures around. There were skyscrapers as far as the eye could see, and these buildings truly lived up to the name, with several of them vanishing into the clouds above. The Ship’s Computer deftly piloted them through all the traffic, heading for an ornate building that shimmered with a golden hue. As they approached, a door opened on the side, exposing a landing pad. As they gently glided down the computer said, “Something is wrong. High Command has sent an envoy to meet you.”

  “Why is that bad?”

  “High Command does not trouble itself with trivial matters such as new recruits. Based on my recommendation you should have been processed directly by the law school. If they are sending someone here to meet you, that means there is a problem.”

  “Maybe they just want to apologize for me almost dying?” Josh said, doing his best to stay optimistic.

  “The likelihood of that being the case is less than 1%. It is more likely they have sent the envoy to determine if you are a Galactic Corp spy. After all, you escaped their station, and no-one does that. You might be a clone, or a cyborg, or any one of a number of creatures that are capable of disguising themselves. The envoy will determine the truth.”

  “How exactly is an envoy going to do that? I’m not going to be tortured, am I?”

  “Unlikely,” the Ship’s Computer said, not exactly filling Josh with confidence. Things didn’t improve when she added, “Envoys are specially trained to read minds, so there is no need to inflict physical pain, when the answers will be readily apparent. Regarding this issue, it would be unwise of you to think about the illegal operation of the mech that you recently performed. You should delete that memory before the envoy gets here to avoid detection and potential execution.”

  “I can’t delete memories, that’s not how humans work!” Josh said, starting to panic as the ship landed with a thunk.

  “How inconvenient. At the very least do not think of the subject. If you focus on something else, a stronger memory, it will make it harder to detect. Perhaps the meld will not be deep and the illegal activity will evade detection.”

  Josh tried desperately to think of something else, but now all he could think of was the fight with Jax. “Is it too late to leave?” he said.

  “Affirmative. We have docked. The ship is locked in place, and the envoy is here.”

  With a hiss the door opened, revealing a shimmering mist that slowly drifted towards Josh. It had no defined shape and it folded back in on itself, revealing a swirling mix of blues and purples. After a few seconds it stopped before him and the computer spoke in his ear. “This is…” There was a long pause before she said, “I believe the correct translation is Shift. She is requesting permission to meld with you. It will be faster if you give your consent.”

  “And if I refuse?” Josh said, crossing his arms.

  “Then she will do it anyway, but the risk of complications increases.”

  “Complications? What kind of complications?”

  “Erasure of memories, massive brain damage, or shell death are some common side effects of a forced meld.”

  “You consider death a side effect?” Josh said, taking a step away from the envoy.

  “On Blurgon it is. For you it would be more permanent.”

  “Well then I guess I’d better allow it,” Josh huffed. As Shift moved toward him he said, “Wait, is this going to hurt?”

  “Not if you relax. Try to clear your mind, it will make it easier if there aren’t any current thoughts getting in the way.”

  Josh tried. Then he remembered that he wasn’t supposed to think of the Jax fight, which made him think of nothing but the Jax fight again. He closed his eyes as Shift reached him and concentrated on something else. The Ship’s Computer said a stronger memory.

  He wasn’t sure why, but he flashed back to his mum leaving. His dad was yelling, and Josh was sitting on the stairs, crying. All his stuff was gone, the things he had worked so hard to buy. She had taken them from him, and now she was ripping his family apart. She was the only one crying. She knew exactly what she was doing; it was a choice for her, and this was the inevitable consequence.

  The envoy drifted right into him. Josh expected to feel something, but it was like a light breeze on his face, followed by a mild throbbing at the back of his head. His body shivered, as if someone had walked over his grave. Then it was over.

  Josh opened his eye
s. Shift hovered before him, silent, judging. Was this it? Would he be carted off in chains, or shipped back to Earth?

  There was a long pause, where Josh did his best not to look guilty. Then Shift moved over to the organic printer.

  “What is she doing?” Josh muttered under his breath.

  “She is requesting a shell from the organic printer. She is uploading specific requirements now.”

  “Is that good or bad?” Josh started imagining the horrors that could materialize out of the machine. He braced himself to run.

  After a tense few seconds, a very human shape started to form. Josh fought the urge to look away as bones grew layer by layer, before thick red muscles stretched over them. Eventually a pale-white skin started to form, and Josh found himself staring at a naked woman approximately his age. She had light red hair, just like his, and a lean physique. He looked away, blushing, as if caught playing Peeping Tom. There was a rustle, more printing, and then a sound something akin to a polite cough.

  He turned and risked a peek. The girl was standing now, eyes open. He focused on them, willing his eyes not to look down. They were green like his, but strangely lifeless. There was no spark there, just a dull gaze.

  His willpower held out for at least three seconds before he glanced down and was oddly relieved to see she was wearing clothes, if not many of them. She was in a matching green bra and underwear. She poked herself in several spots, watching the skin spring back, before looking up. “This shell is most strange. What exactly do these do?” She jiggled her breasts.

  Josh thought he was blushing before, but this was a whole new level. He expected to burst into flames. He said, “Well, erm, they, erm, well.”

  “Oh no, did the meld damage your brain?” she said, with a hint of something resembling concern.

  “What? No, I’m fine. Those are breasts,” he said, as matter-of-factly as he could muster.