First Contact

First Contact

By Yaijinden and Doctor Xadium

The first thing she noticed was that nothing was where she had put it.

She scanned the room-- but slowly, with dread certainty, she realized that even the familiar contours of the room were now vaguely out of joint-- unfamiliar, displaced. A brief, hurried personal inventory assured her she was still herself- at least nominally. While it was reassuring to discover that, it did not make her feel much better.

Gathering her wits quickly, she stepped forward, a slightly nauseous feeling in her stomach that she suspected was more psychosomatic than physical rushing over her like a wave. The cold, white tile beneath her feet shifted under her weight, sliding forwards a smidgeon; her next step slid another tile ever-so-slightly out of alignment as well.

Startled by the instability of the floor beneath her-- the surface that she had always instinctively assumed was permanent, solid, dependable, she momentarily stopped. The subtle change affected her more than she knew it should-- but whatever this was, it was striking her to the core of her being, breeding a disquiet dread she could not properly quantify. Her mouth ran dry, but she screwed up her hands into fists and resolved to keep going. She took a bold step forward, and waited.

Presently, she realized for the first time that the "room" she was perceiving only seemed to be solid and tangible in her direct line of sight. Her peripheral vision was clouded and dark, filled with shifting images of massive, writing worm-like things whose skins looked like they were wrought from bloody human flesh. But whenever she turned her gaze to directly face them, the images resolved into the familiar surroundings of the oddly changed room.

Something in the back of her mind suddenly recognized these things- had seen them before, somewhere else; that part of her mind, though, was shouted down by the sudden lurching of her stomach. No matter how many times one saw a sight like this...

With a sickening splash she deposited the contents of her stomach onto the tiled floor. But as the vomitus dropped forward in steaming, acidic chunks, the floor tiles fled from the point of impact.

At first, she stared- still momentarily stunned by the reflux reflex. When her brain finally recovered from the shock, though, she was already turning around and running. Legs pumping she shot forward at high speed, feet slapping against raw concrete as the tiles fled her footfalls.

Blindly she advanced, wanting to get away, afar. She burst through the single, aged wooden door to the room... and found herself right back where she had started from. Except now, the room was covered with blood. A glance backwards confirmed that there was no way out. On either side of the doorway, there was a small room- rippling concrete marking where tiles had escaped her footfalls- and the doorway dividing them. Both, out of the corner of her eye, looked of flesh and crawling things.

What kind of hellish place was this? she wondered as she continued looking around, becoming more and more frightened by what she saw. Was this a nightmare? It felt too real. Her spirits sank. She felt like a deer trapped in headlights, unable to escape the onrush of whatever horrific destiny lay before her. She knew, somehow, that this place would consume her-- if not her flesh, then her spirit. She knew that she had to resist; to fight. It might be an gloriously futile gesture, but it was better than meekly waiting to die in this puzzle of a place.

[Do not be afraid], a melodious voice chimed at the edge of her perception. [We welcome you to our Mass, and bid you greetings.]

Greetings, she mused bitterly, learning now to look only at the edges of her sight, to ignore the illusions being foisted upon her. It was difficult, and her vision often slipped, but she narrowed her eyes, resolved not to be taken in by whatever this place was offering.

[It is through our will that you have been brought to this place, within ourselves], the voice- or voices- said pleasantly. [We have plans for you.]

Within? She thought in a breathless panic. When? How? She didn't remember being drawn into anything! How could she find an exit if the didn't know about the entrance? But if she was inside it, maybe that could be of use to her somehow.Aren't creatures vulnerable on their insides? She'd seen that in a movie once. She hoped it was true.

Kneeling, she experimentally picked up a floor tile, which squealed and tried to wriggle out of her grasp.

[Unlike many others, you are possessed of great perspective.] The speaker's voice was now identifiable as at least nominally feminine- but it sounded as though she was less a single speaker and more of the chief voice of a choir. It was patient- almost soothing in its tone. [You have seen many things that the others have not. You have experienced many pains, and many woes.]

It's trying to flatter me, she thought wryly, almost smiling. They had "plans" for her, eh? This implied that she was at least nominally important to them in some fashion, which might offer her some security. Of course, she noted dryly, their "plans" could be nothing more than using me as a food source. She snorted a little and experimentally squeezed the wriggling tile, to see what the voice would do, if anything.

Beneath her grip, the tile caved in a little bit, squealing like a piglet. [It is also through our will that you have not been rendered into our flesh,] the chorus mused, disapprovingly. [We will not harm you, save if you refuse our welcome.]

She pondered the phrase "rendered into our flesh". Did that merely mean brought into them, as a person is brought into a room? Or had she been converted into their body... sucked in and made into the equivalent of a transplanted kidney? She sighed, upset that the whole voice didn't react in pain to the agony of the tile. She dashed it to the ground.

[Your compliance in this matter,] they murmured as the tile hit the ground with a decidedly un-tile-like fleshy smack, [will facilitate this. We know you know you are different from your peers...]

"You seem to know a lot of things," she said out loud for the first time, the sound of her own voice shocking her for an instant. It felt hoarse and loud, a shattering gong against the mental silence of the prior communications. "Just how much do you know about me?"

[You are unique amongst your peers,] they murmured, apparently both intrigued and repulsed by the idea. [Your soul is old and powerful, but you are yet one great presence among many... and a servant, just as we serve our own.]

"How do you know all these things?" she asked with a hint of reverential respect that was just perfect, she thought. Not too obsequious, yet stroking of their ego. At least she assumed they had one.

[We have looked through your history.] They sounded vaguely pleased with her deference. [We have seen the world with the eyes of your species. You have come far from what you once were, but your species- or that of your parents- will never achieve what we seek to bring you and yours.]

She frowned. Their answer was just shy of telling her what she wanted to know; namely if their thoughts and hers were linked. She needed to know how far the connection went. Experimentally she smashed her left big toe with her right foot.

She was rewarded with a sharp sensation of pain running through her foot (which she had expected all too much) and a little light laughter from the community. [We have offered your species wonder once before,] they whispered musically. [But, guided by our enemy and yours, you refused it. We will not let you make the same mistake twice.]

She winced, more out of the failure than her pain. Damn! there was no direct physical connection. Or if there was, they were hiding their pain damn well. She needed a new stratagem.

[We offer your species the chance for infinity. Beyond the limitations of the individual, and the terrible things you do to yourselves. Within the glory of the Mass, there is no boundary between us- and we are ever-more fruitful in our ways.]

"If I wanted a taste of this mass... what would be involved?" she asked nervously.

[A submission of your will. Your reception into our joy.] Each phrase was spoken with the same quasi-maternal adoration- as though they were speaking to a beloved child. [And when you decide to join us for keeps, the sublimation of your flesh into our own.]

So her body had NOT been absorbed into them! That left a slim, but dangerous option open. Not understanding the rules of the environment around her, she had to take the greatest risk of her life. "Let me taste of it," she said slowly. "Let me feel the power of your... "joy".

The response was wordless and immediate. She was no stranger to psychic powers- the sort of tell-tale tingle the sensitive or the powerful felt when touched by another mind- but there was no harm. No pain. No subtle fear... in fact, the opposite. She could feel the pulse of another awareness bleeding pleasure into her own... and then another, weeping happiness. Another passed into her- and then a fourth- and then a fifth and an eighth and a thirty-seventh--

Too much, too fast. Too many! TOO MANY. It felt good, so good... she didn't want to put up barriers, she wanted to let them wash over her, drown her, consume her.... but the part of her mind that focused on survival buckled down and shot forth. Now--- now for the first time they were linked. They knew her thoughts, and she knew theirs. There could be no secrets, no hidden motives. It would all come down to speed. She shot her consciousness through the overmind, ignoring the joy, focusing on her private hurt and pain, the scars of her young life to keep her mind solvent. She sought the edges of the mind, for the id that existed in all gestalts-- the sublimated feelings that lurked below the surface. Surely there must have been others brought into the collective under less than ideal circumstances. Their fear and resentment might still exist. She needed to find it and draw it to her, fast. Anything out of line with the main consciousness of thought-- she sought it.

[We have purged ourselves of these things you seek,] the universe said to her- now less a mother and more of a godhead. Each single, coherent thought sent her awareness spiraling, so potent was the impressions. [Fear and anger do not contribute to this rapture- save when they are necessary to preserve our unity... and you remain but a guest within us.]

"Ahh but you can hear me~" She shot off quickly, knowing they knew her intent now, doing her damndest to maintain balance. "So you have purged all these things, save where necessary to preserve unity... so you imply the opposite is disharmonious...." She couldn't back off now. She had to do something to get them to release her. As the connection still held, she decided on an opposite tack. She would do what she did best. Babble.

Opening her mind, she showed them what they so "wanted". All her experiences, all her pain and sorrow and anger, the things they had purged. No, she did not merely open herself up passively, like a book. She concentrated and SHOT her pain into the collective with as much brute force as she could muster. She threw as many of her strange experiences and dreams and nightmares at them, weaving together the most insane fantasies from her wide experiences and pushing them, again and again, against the collective. If they wanted her, they were going to get her all right. But it would be a bitter pill-- and hopefully, she thought, a laxative.

The universe pulsed away from her for a moment, flooded with discontinuity. A whirl, a world, an acknowledgement of the terrible things done to and by her... and then they were back. Comforting, reassuring. [You have suffered greatly,] the grand harmony said piteously. [But your pain is universal to your species. We would bring you in among us, to soothe your troubled heart... but you must remain separate from us for a time yet.]

Annoyed, she pulled her mind back before they cut it off or something. She found herself back in her body, and still... where exactly, eh? Her perceptions were being toyed with, she knew that. So she decided to lock down, and focus only on herself, her body, the one thing she knew to be constant in this amorphous reality. She fused her mental self image with her physical self-image and pondered her surroundings again, looking keenly at her surroundings once more for something-- anything that could be useful.

Each of the five senses yielded different things. Her eyes told her she was where she had sought to go- a storage closet, maybe, it was hard to remember- but sights of worms and meat lingered just at the edge of her perception. The only sounds were of her own breathing- and when she tapped her foot on the floor, the vaguely wet splotch of her soles against meaty concrete. Taking another breath of dank, humid air, the memory of a slaughterhouse came briefly to mind...

She took stock of what she had learned. The consciousness was around her, permeating the environment. But she was apart from it physically, and so was this room. The tiles had been alive, but they were on concrete. Crawling on it. The room was under its control, but disconnected from it. Had she really come running in a circle back into the same room that time. She went from something bloodless to something bloody. A simulacrum made in an adjoining chamber to disorient her? She quickly ran back the way she had come, through the doorway and looked around.

To her momentary irritation, there was no significant change. Worms and muscle outside of her visual range, footsteps making wet smacks against concrete... that gave beneath her feet, in a way more like organic tissue than rock conglomerate. [We trust,] the chorus sang to her, [that you will not let your individuality get in the way of the message that we will bring to your planets. We must be heard, for we bring the seeds of a new destiny within us... and we would sow them in fertile ground.]

She ignored the mind now, focused on finding either a way out, or a way though. She doubted she could kill this thing, so escape was the only option. Well, it might kill her... or do something worse. She replied to the mind with a complex maths equation. It didn't mean anything, but she hoped the mind would be momentarily distracted trying to glean meaning from it. She closed her eyes and focused on life force... her own, the life force of the flesh around her... she tried to trust her instincts, the innate abilities that modern civilisation had stripped from many. She needed to feel... feel for a place where life *wasn't*... where their infection had not spread. She only hoped she could find it, and then head for it.

The singers spokesang to her again, once again benevolent- words amounting to anointing her their herald. In nearly anyone else, her efforts would have gone for naught- the illusion was nearly complete, blanketing her mundane senses and many of her higher ones with nonsense or things she knew to be false. But her soul was elevated, somewhat- somehow- and once she had turned her inner eye outward, she could feel the life-essence of the flesh- and how shallow a bubble it had made around her.

She smiled for an instant, then bit down her pride. This wasn't the time for conceit or pride. She calmed herself as much as she could and tried to sense the location of the shallowest, weakest part of the bubble. Her plan was simple-- locate and smash through that point.

Herald, they were calling her. Scion. First to be touched, first to leave and first to return when the time came. They were not paying attention to the absence of her responses, leaving her in peace to locate the thin spot at the end of the "storage cabinet" she had first come into.

Mentally, she was greatly disturbed by the notion of carrying their taint. But while there was freedom of movement, freedom to be outside, there was hope-- hope of getting help, of sweeping back these hordes, and being cleansed. She found the thin spot, and suddenly began mentally beaming the most disruptive mental thoughts she could muster. Pain, grief, Gilbert and Sullivan, Quadratic Equations, Marylin Manson lyrics, the lot. She tried to make as much "noise" as she could to distract them--- and she drew back, then leapt forward violently, hurling her body against the weakness, clawing and tearing like a woman possessed.

Each rending stroke tore away bits and pieces. Soft, pliable tissue gave way as she ripped at it- meat, and loose meat, more like ground beef giving away beneath her fingers- and then she found a void. Air, dry with the ripe stink of pollution, assaulted her senses- another few vigorous tears, and she was suddenly beneath the crimson sky of downtown Crystal Tokyo. Her fleshy prison was nowhere to be seen.

She did not stop to contemplate her surroundings. Bursting out of the bubble with a bounding leap, she hit the ground running and kept going, dodging people, leaping over obstacles and generally trying to put as much distance between herself and her prison as possible. Finally, when she felt she had gone far enough, she stopped, doubled over in exhaustion, panting heavily. She caught sight of her reflection in the window of a personal transport.

There were times when she had looked worse... but they were few and far between. Her hands were soaked in the same red-black ichor that was now spattered all over her shirt, hair nearly free of its pinnings in disarray about her. She looked like she had just torn out someone's heart with her own two hands- that probably explained the screams of the pedestrians she had left behind.

Sakura Xadium Aino stood there for a moment, hearts beating rapidly, her knees starting to actually shake. Now that she was free of that place, the adrenalin rush and the bravery born of the iron will to survive had dissipated, and she found herself pale and quaking.

In her whole life, she had never felt such raw, palpable fear. There, in that place, she had touched something so vast, so powerful, that she knew it could have consumed her in an instant. She had faced powerful beings before... but this... this was different, more intimate, more frightening. It wanted her. But for what? She knew that she couldn't let it have its way!

Standing up straight, she tried to regain her bearings. Ignoring the looks of the people around her, she made her way back to her home. She needed to research, to train, to prepare. She had been caught unawares once, damn if it would happen again. She would not let herself be used in this fashion. She would be ready next time... no matter the cost.