When I was back home from college one summer, I had the most profound
experience of my life. I was out in the jungle, just trying to get a little
exercise, when I came across a sea serpent. Like she was at least somewhat
intelligent, she followed me back to the ocean, where she was able to swim
freely and safely. As if that wasn’t enough, I slept there that night, and
woke up hungry. On my way back to civilization, I found another snake. He
was apparently fit for freshwater, and this time, he led me to
where I needed to go, which was a diner out in the middle of nowhere.
Until this point, I was studying environmental chemistry, but that all changed.
I quickly dropped all of the courses I was planning to take that next
semester, and switched tracks to herpetology. I wanted to study amphibians
and reptiles, particularly snakes, and I got pretty lucky. I was surprised
to find that my university offered a herpetology degree, which is rather
unusual for it to be so specific. It was hard to change focus, and I did
have to stay there for a whole extra year to complete all my courses, but I
don’t regret it. Did you know that birds and mammals are technically
reptiles? Well, it’s a lot more complicated than it sounds, but it just
shows that classifying our world is constantly evolving, and we don’t have
everything figured out. I don’t even know all there is to know about snakes,
and I know quite a bit. What I’ve realized is that I can commune with them
on a level no one else has ever seen. They don’t talk, like they do in those
fantasy books, but I can form a bond with them, and gain their trust. I can
handle any of the planet’s deadliest snakes, and they will not harm me,
because they know that I won’t harm them. I don’t know if I was born with
this gift, or developed it later, but it has made me extremely valuable and
sought after in my field. My colleagues affectionately call me the snake
handler.
Snake venom has the potential to treat numerous diseases, which could save
thousands—or maybe even millions—of lives. I’m not the person who comes up
with these treatments and cures. The first step in such research is
procuring the venom in the first place, and that’s where I come in. Not only
can I handle the snake in the lab, but I can find who I’m looking for in
their natural habitat with ease. Over time, I’ve honed my hunting skills,
which are just as supernatural as my communal bonds. You need a blue Malayan
coral snake? I got you covered. What about a South American bushmaster? You
know I got you. Anything, anywhere, anytime, I’m your girl. You can’t call
it dangerous when I’m around. I have not met a snake that I cannot
handle. I travel all over the world, collecting specimens that my clients
requested, and delivering them to the labs. I don’t do business with
unethical organizations, and I don’t wipe my hands clean after I’m done. I
return periodically to check on my snakes, and again, they can’t talk, but I
know if they’ve been mistreated. It’s happened a handful of times. I take
the snake back, charge them a mishandling fee, and blacklist them in the
industry. Most of the time, one or two researchers have been the problem,
but I have been known to shut down entire companies for not adhering to my
strict rules. If I say they’re bad news, they lose funding. Right now I’m in
the Star Mountains, on the trail of a Papuan taipan, when I sense something
I’ve never felt before. It’s forcing me on a detour, where I quickly come
face to face with a purple snake that I’ve never seen, even in pictures. I
think I just discovered a new species. The problem is...I can’t seem to form
a bond with it.
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