12.10.2015
“You’re welcome to try,” Tern said. “But it’s hypodermatic, and under there deep.”
“Does it have a scar?”
“It’s hard for me to tell, since I can’t get a good look. Here.” Tern stooped a bit and turned the back of his head toward her. “Right at the hairline,” he motioned.
She stepped closer and leaned in. “I don’t notice anything huge.”
“They’ve had a lot of practice on all those other mammals,” he said.
Christy lay a finger on his neck and moved it over the skin, feeling for the telltale raised skin of an incision scar. She looked blankly at his shirt as she focused on the touch. “And now I’m not sure if there is really a bump there, or I’m just imagining it.”
“Press harder. Can you feel the chip in there?”
A web of warmth ran from her fingers, down his spine and up his head, and circled around to his face to wrap him in warmth. As the web shivered, so did Tern.
Christy laughed, “A little chilly?”
“That must be it,” he replied, taken aback.
“Anyway, I can’t feel a thing.” Christy removed her hand and Tern stood back up. He could just make out a lavender hint on the air. Maybe her shampoo.
“They hid it well,” he said.
“Or else they ripped you off.”
“Except I got it from the raffle.”
“Shit, you did say that.”
They both began walking again; their body language hinting at it before taking those first few steps.
“What happens,” she asked, “if the chip fails? Do they really get you on maintenance fees?”
“Lifetime warranty.”
“What about power?”
“Runs off my normal metabolic rate. Or, magic, I can’t remember.”
A dog yapped and pulled at the end of the leash its owner held as pigeons took to the air. Crumbs scattering in the wake of their wings. Tern felt the web tighten in his skin again, warmly.
A block further on and they crossed a couple intersections and stood along the still-green lawn sitting in front of the State Capitol. The building’s golden dome reflected sunlight and the trees stood bare, but with leaves laying brown at their bases.
The dome glinted as clouds passed overhead. An afterimage glowed faintly in Tern’s vision. Then it grew stronger. Bright points that grew slowly, reaching a threshold. And with a snap they became three, white, shivering lines that scarred the world. He shook his head and blinked but the lines waved and shimmered and a static coating fell over the rest of the view. He staggered back a step, unsure of his balance.
“Woah, are you okay?” she asked from somewhere.
“Fine, fine. Just got light-headed.”
The lines contracted and grew in length in slow, timed measures. “Do you need a…” but the sound faded from the world. “Yeah. Yeah,” he felt himself mouth, but had he made a noise?
Christy’s grip on his arm was the only anchor. The web receeding and pulling his skin taut. He was on the ground, sitting. With Christy’s arm on his.
Why was she so static? Not even a face. Just lines growing into trenches that receded in the Z-axis and a set of triplet waves inching up and down his worldview. Scratching the corneas or at least the cellophane that wrapped him up now. A faint radiant leap from the mountains and the lines peeled off and slunk to the ground before melting under the sunlight that had peered back out from the clouds.
Static dripping off the surfaces of all he saw, to puddle on the mantle of Earth. Her grip steadied his swaying core and a tinny radio voice echoed through her arm, along his heck, and into his ear canal. “… at all? Tern, can you understand me? What the hell? Tern? Tern! What’s the fucking deal?”
The sea serpent in his mouth flopped out as he relaxed his clenched jaw. He reeled it in and the universe reeled him back from the edge. He coughed.
“Impact for eternity.”