Longing for the Stars

Longing for the stars

Hello, it's me again. I wanted this to be for Halloween, but I didn't manage to meet the deadline. Towards the end, I just wanted to get this over, so this should answer the more iffy parts of the ending. As always, I would gladly appreciate your comments, whether you liked it or not, even if it's trash or simply bore you to death; everything can help to help me grow. Without further ado, let's go:

***

Do you remember the solar storm from two years ago? I would be surprised if you didn't. There was no place without someone talking about it, especially if it had something to do with the end of the world: I couldn't tell if they were distressed about it or they were looking forward to it. You may have guessed it but Armageddon wasn't in store for us just yet; instead we were witness to what I would call a low-profile miracle. For the next three days, almost all smart devices around the glove were presenting malfunctions at the same time in different time intervals. The media attributed it to the electromagnetic interference of the solar flares damaging the satellites transmissions. As soon people got their phones working properly, the news got tossed to the side and quickly forgotten. But Dr Novak didn't.

Old Dr Camilla Novak was one of the top researchers of the college's genetics department. Her work was so remarkable that she did conferences around the globe. Nothing, however, I can attest to being a witness in my life. Those glorious years were gone long before I was even born. By the time I started doing my internship, her science department was an apt reflection of the doctor: a fragile vessel that casted a shadow of the long gone golden years, kept around less for respect and more for pity. Her white cotton hair contrasted the cotton walls as she walked around while we worked. To be honest, we didn't do much there aside from warming our seats and filling our hours, and Dr Novak didn't seem to mind. And neither did the dean when she presented her retirement letter mid-semester. There was a reunion, there was a cake, and as soon as she walked through the door, everyone forgot about her. That is until eight months later.

The college had finally made up their mind on repurposing the labs into club rooms, and tore down every old remnant of its history that didn't seem essential. What had any value was sold. What didn't sell was thrown away. If for some reason it was addressed to one of the members of the faculty, it was delivered to them. In the end, after decades of service to the eager students till its bitter twilight years, it only survived a single cardboard box where its contents shared a same name written on them: Dr Camilla Novak.

I still remember when my phone rang and heard the dean talking on the other end of the line, summoning me to see him in his office that afternoon. My stomach sank even lower than before with the reasons that required me to see him in person. My grades weren't the greatest but I did fine enough to pass the courses. I hoped it didn't have anything to do with my behavior on the final project, I was rehearsing the thousand apologies as I reached his door. Before I realized I was already holding the cardboard box in my arms.

"Could you please deliver her things to Miss Novak?" he asked. "We tried to call her but she didn't pick up. You were one of her last students, she might find that endearing or something. Here's the address. Don't worry if she doesn't respond, just... leave it on the porch. Got that? Good! The faculty wishes you the best of luck."

Just as I got out of his office, I heard the door slam shut behind me. What a way to become the dean's errand-girl.

Just like a dog, I followed the order given to me at the end of classes. As I took the long and tumultuous bus ride, my curiosity got the best of me and I took a look at the contents of the package. Thirty eight years working alongside her peers to teach new generations the knowledge gained on first-hand investigation on genetics that made the institution renowned, and what do they leave her? An open package of chamomile tea bags, some broken pens, some faded notebooks, a fossil paperweight, and an old framed photo. I was not surprised they chose someone other than them to sever the last ties she had to the place. Keep the messy past acts that one needs to discuss at arm's length, and walk the other way as if everything was fine between them. In the end, who was I to judge? The sole reason I rode for an hour and a half on that junk of a bus to the outskirts of the city, was because I wanted to avoid my own baggage as long as I could.

Guess what? Turns out that pondering on your poor life choices is a great way to kill time; before I knew it, the bus driver had already dropped me off in front of Dr. Novak's place. They say things resemble their owner, and there was no better proof to this statement than that structure trying hard to keep appearing as a house. The more I looked at that place, the more it seemed like it was going to collapse, and no soul around besides mine to witness it.

For the first time it seemed sensible to just drop off the box on her porch. When I climbed the creaking steps to the main door, I saw something weird, I took a step back to look, and facepalmed myself for just noticing: there were garbage bags covering all of the windows, even the ones on the second floor. Then I finally reacted like I should've had from the beginning and knocked on the door, only to realize it was open. Of course I went inside.

While the weather at that time of the year can be considered mild and a bit windy, the inside of that house was so hot and damp that I had to take off my jacket and leave it on top of the box at the entrance; it felt like I just got into a swamp. I tried to turn on the lights but none of the switches worked, so I used my phone's lantern to make up where I was stepping on. The place was a mess, everywhere I looked were clothes, dishes, and papers scattered on both floor and furniture. And the smell, God, it wasn't rotten, quite the opposite, but just remembering it makes my head dizzy. After the initial shock, I called "Dr. Novak. Dr. Novak", but nobody answered. So I decided to investigate.

Looking back at it, I don't know exactly why I did that. Someone else in my place would have called the police, or at least an ambulance. But not me. Why was that? Did I not have enough faith in the authorities to give a damn to her? Was it because of the laughable act the dean put up regarding his worries on her? Was I feeling pity on how they treated her second home like it was nothing? Did I feel remorseful for my indifference towards her when she was about to retire? I don't know. But what I do know is that there was a force that, despite the multiple red flags that presented in front of me, compelled me to keep going and make sure Dr. Novak was okay.

That conviction almost left my body when I got to one of the bathrooms. The bathtub was full of murky warm water, and stained at the borders with a green translucent goop dripping to the floor. I was about to vomit when I sensed something moving behind me. I turned back, saw nothing, but then I saw a pile of books moving. That's when I heard a weird screech coming from the shadows. At that moment, my common sense had finally returned to me, so I tried to run back to the door.

When I entered the house it was not so different from any modest two-story home, but when an unknown entity chases you through the shadows, any hallway becomes an M. C. Esher layout, and the nightfall darkness did not help a bit. Every time I tumbled into another wall, I could hear that screeching nearer behind me. Then I finally tripped over some cables, and when I landed, the thing lunged at me. It was small so I had little trouble fighting it, but the sensation I had when I touched it shook me more. It had four legs and small nails, that's for damn sure, but the rest of its body did not resemble anything I knew. It had the tail of a lizard, but the smooth skin of a frog, albeit bigger than that, and it squeaked exactly like a rat. That, I could deal with. But what took me back was a countless amount of small tentacle-like tendrils attached to its back that almost moved on their own.

I would have almost passed out on the spot if I hadn't heard it approaching me again. I got back up and fortunately found out that the cables went to the power box. I pulled the lever and when the light turned on, I could see that disturbing creature squirm on the floor. Suddenly I heard a splash from the bathroom followed by a woman's painful moan.

"TURN IT OFF!" she said.

I hesitated, but I obeyed her. Clearly the little guy wasn't that grateful, so when I heard it coming after me again I thought I was done for. But then, some heavy steps entered the room, and the voice made its return.

""Meekins!" she exclaimed, with a firm voice that engulfed the room. "Here."

As if it were some power over that little creature's will, the small amphibian rat made its way to its owner. I grabbed my cell phone and turned my lantern towards the path the thing was tacking. What I saw left me speechless. In front of me, there was a woman, but not like any other I could imagine. Her green and feet matched the creature's perfectly, but as it slithered upwards, the general figure resembled more of a model than an animal. Her fine legs stood firmly as the amphibian made its way toward its slim bell, right after going over her curved hips and exposed sex. A couple of mottled greenish hands took the creature and cradled it in her arms, nesting next to her big round breasts. Little by little I took the courage to point the light upwards, almost reaching the ceiling, and finally took a look at her face. The green frog skin and the brown tentacles of different sizes that replaced her hair were not enough to deceive me from the strong elegant feature of her face. Aside from the yellow cat-like eyes that looked at me, a familiar image came into my mind and manifested itself from my mouth.

"Doctor Novak?" I asked dumbfounded.

"So you finally figured it out?" she replied with a tender smile as she caressed her unusual pet.

Then, what do you think happened? After taking a peek of that box I bought her, Dr Novak put the water to boil, and sat me down on the dining table right in front of her, each of us with a cup and a tea bag at hand. The casualness with which the doctor treated the situation seemed surreal to me: I was witnessing my old mentor that turned into a stunning tall naked alien lady serving me tea, and there I was, laughing at how ridiculous the situation seemed.

The kettle saved me from that awkward situation, so we chugged our teas as soon as we were served. While I wasn't fascinated by its taste, it seemed it didn't sit well with Doctor Novak, trying to keep it down, but ultimately running to the sink to spew it.

"Sorry," she said. "Looks like this body can't tolerate it anymore."

Once she got herself cleaned, or as clean as someone who has a fine layer of ooze covering their whole body can, she came back to the table and said:

"I never thought anyone would look at me this way. I was hoping to keep it a secret as much as I could. Nevertheless, here you are. I am sorry for all the troubles Meekins gave you. You must have a lot of questions, and I think it's fair that I answer them. After all, not only did you bring my stuff back, you entered to look for me."

I sat in silence for a moment, trying to catch one of the questions that were flying in my head, until I finally landed on the biggest one of the all:

"How did you turn like that?"

Doctor Novak closed her eyes and gave me a faint smile as she took out her notebooks from the box, laying them open in front of me. I could recognize some of the symbols written in them, but as the formulas expanded from rows to pages of extent, my mind seemed lost. With one of the pens near it, she started to explain her story across the scribbled sheets:

"Do you remember that solar storm?" she asked.

"Who doesn't?"

"Professor Grimes was especially interested in them, or at least at the beginning."

"The old f- man from english?" I tried to keep my language down in front of her.

"Yes. He specializes in linguistics, on how languages form and evolve. Well, when the digital devices were malfunctioning, he recognized a pretty defined pattern on them, so he recorded the events on analog cameras and used the footage as a basis to decipher the code. Got to give it to him, within a week he invented his own system to solve the messages that came to earth, but after the third or fourth signal he grew tired of them because at the end of the day, he didn't understand what all of that meant. One day, I ran into him at the cafeteria, still trying to solve that mystery, when I took a peek into his results and found myself surprised at what he had inadvertently discovered. If he wasn't so proud, he could've asked for help to understand what they were trying to say to him. And our college was famous for that reason, for God's sake."

"Genetic Engineering instructions." I muttered.

"Good to know my teachings were not for nothing."

"Wait a minute, you said

they

. Who are

they

exactly?"

Doctor Novak simply pointed her index finger upwards, and that little gesture made me fall onto the back of the chair.

"Even after all you saw this afternoon, this is the thing that's hard to wrap around your head."

"It's not that. It's just.. everything. You. That,

Meekins

, you call it. The darkness. The air. Doesn't it feel hot to you?"

"Sorry, that's how our bodies acclimatize better. I can open a window if you want."

"No, no no no. It's alright. I can take it," I said as my blouse soaked in sweat. "Please, continue."

"Alright. To tell you the truth, I was lucky to catch him in a good mood for him to share with me his personal project, but not enough to lend me his notes. After watching what he had discovered, I couldn't let those papers go to waste just because he got bored. So I... borrowed them, without his knowledge."

"It's better to ask for forgiveness than to ask for permission. Isn't it?"

"As far as I am aware, he didn't even seem to miss them that much."

"I guess that a hip surgery is more important than a forgotten hobby."

"While the transcriptions he left behind proved of some utility, the real deal was his decryption key manual. Turns out our foreign friends had the good sense to repeat their previous messages in case we had missed them, helping me make some corrections to the good Professor's notes."

"And then you began to experiment on rats. Must have been a pain to get whatever-the-hell ingredients it needed."

"Oh, on the contrary. Among their instructions, it contained a list of alternative material that could substitute them, as well as different methods to synthesize them. Not to mention my own equipment that has been collecting dust in my basement remained functional. And with that, my home laboratory began to breathe life once more. It took a while, and the life of many specimens, (may your sacrifice not be in vain), but eight months ago, I had finally obtained what seemed a stable result."

"Meekins?" I asked as I watched the little thing play with an old rag on the floor.

"Not exactly. There were other seven that have sadly already passed away. One at the time. If you thought he was erratic, you should have come when there were four at the same time, trashing the room like mad goats. Between this and my long stalled position at the college, the choice seemed simple."

"That retirement party cake must have tasted sweet."

"The cake, as well as the farewell from my colleagues, was stale in comparison to the fresh air of possibilities that hit me as I walked out of the building. That's how I felt for three weeks. I am seventy eight years old. This is no project an alone old woman can do without succumbing to the reality of her own shortcomings, physical and mental. My forces and my will that guided me through this field had left me a long time ago. If I continued down this path, you would have found me dead on the ground. A lone old woman found dead in her house, I didn't want to end up like that. So, I did the most sensible thing at the time."

She paused for a long time, and I didn't dare to open my mouth. She served herself some water from an old plastic gallon and drank the whole cup in one go. Then she served herself another one and sat back in front of me, admiring the uncanny aura that enveloped her, while feeling a faint fixation that grew more as she talked.

"The first week, I didn't feel anything; nothing strange about it. In the second week my hair began to fall off my body, as well as my nails did later. In the fourth week I could barely sleep feeling my skin puncturing me as it peeled off, all while I heard bones cracking here and there. I think the seventh was the worst one, aware of my organs rearranging inside of me, even growing new ones that replaced the ones that I had evacuated, while my whole body was stretched by some force at a rapid pace that my mind couldn't process the pain any longer. At the same time, without my constant care, the rats that survived the different trials began to die off. I couldn't do anything but witness how they fell like flies, and I cried. Cried like a dog loses her pups. Between my whimpers, my old teeth fell off but I didn't care. God, I said, oh God, just kill me already...

>>But it didn't happen, and I continued with the treatment. I was already so far in that I didn't have a choice but to see it come to an end. So, in the end, the only ones that are left are Meekins, and me".

I was left speechless. Doctor Novak was there but at the same time her mind seemed to be in another place, all I could focus on was her lost look. I didn't know what to say at that point. I just sat and let her drink her glass of water before I commented:

"I'm sorry for what happened to you."

"Please, you don't have anything to be sorry about. What's done is done, there is not much you can do."

She gave me another warm smile that made my heart pound madly. I could feel its warm go down across my diaphragm. I got up to take a little breath. She didn't seem to mind and continued talking.

"By the third month, the worst was already over. As my features accentuated over time, I was able to gain new perspectives I could've never imagined, that allowed me to better understand the behavior of my little friends. You may have already guessed that with the humid atmosphere and its relation to our "amphibian" physiology. However, there were some things that took more than a glance to figure out. Back when I started monitoring the metamorphosed rats, I thought their erratic behavior was due to light sensibility. As my transformation advanced, I found out the hard way that our bodies are hypersensitive to electric current, or at least the ones generated on this planet. Good thing I've kept my fair share of candles over the years. Apart from my exceptional growth, I couldn't bear the touch of my old clothes without staining them with this slime. As for my new "hair", if one can call it that, I can feel it reacting in tune with my mood. And depending on how it's handled, it can produce an array of sensations that- what are you doing?"

What was I doing? Frankly, at the time I didn't know. What I just related is just a mere fraction of her whole impromptu dissertation. Everything seems so foggy now and yet I can recall with detail a wild urge to get as close as her as I could. Even as her words muffled in and out of my attention, the image of her stunning body mesmerized me, my hands were aching to examine each of those curves with detail. Before I knew it I was in front of her, caressing some of the small tentacle-like tendrils next to her ear. Even with that green skin tone, I could see her blush from the arousal that I fooled with delicacy her elvish ears.