Harvest Time

23 - Slime

For a moment I stood unmoving, transfixed with the horror of my situation. Then, I became aware of something moving about my toes. The slime, a sticky brown-orange gunk, that had partially covered the stones was climbing onto the tops of my feet.

"Ah, no," I screamed, remembering the stuff Elcanah had warned us about on the jungle world.

I ran up the incline, my feet dislodging stones that tumbled sea-wards. Puffing, I reached the drier stones. I had only run a few yards but I had trouble breathing. Maybe this air wasn't as breathable as I'd thought. I tried to scrape the slime off my feet and managed to lose a good proportion of it. But, back at the shoreline a much larger tongue of slime, still attached to the water, was flowing towards me, gaining momentum by the second.

Reaching the boulders, I selected one that was tall but also appeared to be climbable. I began to fight my way to the top. The height was about three times that of my own. Surely, I was safe up here, wasn't I?

But the slime, having already reached the base of the rock, had different ideas. As it added more to its volume, it inched its way higher, creeping up the rock, leaving me nowhere to run. Other boulders were either too far away to jump or too jagged, promising a landing that would surely result in injury.

In a panic, I contemplated springing to a tall rock that protruded at an angle from the bed of stones upon which it stood. But, between that and the one upon which I was trapped, sharp, shattered shards pointed upwards. One slip and I would be impaled upon them.

In terror, I dithered and then almost fell off the boulder as I felt one foot become encased within the encroaching slime. I tried to kick it away but it clung to me, gaining more ground by the second.

But I experienced something more. As the ooze crawled up my body, I heard strange voices within my head. The voices used words that sounded as if they resembled my own language, but only in part.

–It is different.

–What is it?

–It is mobile.

–It has hints of old life.

–Yes, it matches what is known of old life.

Was I being enclosed by another living creature? Elcanah had hinted that the slime on the jungle world may have exhibited some sort of intelligence.

–It is in the order of Eukaryotes.

–But not of vegetable origin.

–There are bones within its outer shell.

–Indeed, it resembles extinct Animalia.

–Upright, bipedal. Could it be of the genus homo?

–Rare.

–Ancient.

Despite my struggles, the slime slowly enveloped my entire body, becoming more solid with each second. It pinned my arms to my sides preventing my struggles as it advanced up my torso. It reached my neck and I feared I was about to be suffocated.

–It will not survive long.

–How did it come here?

–The gases kill it.

–The toxins destroy it.

–It is already being poisoned.

–It requires less cyanide and more oxygen.

–Can we filter?

–Possibly. It would be worth studying.

–Could we prolong it and learn more of its origins?

Unable to prevent it, my head became encased. My body was wracked with sobs as I realised I would never see Emla again. As the slime covered my eyes, blocking the meagre light of this world, I felt myself being reorientated onto my back. It was like I was floating in a giant bath of sluggish water.

The voices didn't relent, though little made sense to me.

–The DNA is being checked against known records.

–Correlation matches a variation of homo sapiens.

–There are changes.

–It is smaller.

–It matures quicker.

–It lives faster.

–It is not built for this world.

–Initial deterioration of the epidermis has been detected.

–Is it reversible?

–Unknown. More studies will be required.

–Records suggest that the creature's centre of intelligence is located within the cranium.

–Can we extract the memory contents directly?

–Unknown again. Full merging will be required.

–There is a possibility that any attempt to merge with something this ancient will do much damage, thus preventing full integration and loss of data.

–There is more evidence that cells are becoming compromised.

–What is the likely outcome?

–It will die.

–Is rectification possible?

–No. Already, it dies.

–We must preserve it for study.

As darkness clouded my brain, I imagined I could hear Emla calling me.

I prepared myself for the end.

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