Star Mountains rainforest, Papua New Guinea. The mysterious unidentifiable
snake stares at me like I just ate his squirmy little children. I’m normally
good with snakes, and for a special reason. I can commune with them. They
don’t have complex brains, so they can’t talk, but I can convey my
intentions to them, and they to me. I’m a herpetologist, which means I love
them, so they always know that I never mean them any harm. I don’t know if
this particular species is immune to my wiles, or if simply the fact that it
has never been studied before means that it’s not in the database. I don’t
understand why that should make a difference, though. When I first realized
I could do what I do, it’s not like I had ever looked at that list. I
actually had to switch majors in the middle of my higher education career to
account for it. I didn’t grow up having any strong feelings about snakes. I
try to move backwards half a centimeter, but have to stop. He doesn’t like
that—or she. I don’t know how to tell, but that obviously doesn’t matter
right now. It doesn’t even matter why I can’t get this snake to relax. All I
can do is call upon the training I’ve never needed before, and get myself to
safety. Unfortunately, I ignored a lot of what my teachers tried to teach me
about dealing with wild animals, because it didn’t apply to me. That was
stupid, it was so stupid. What did I think I was, invincible? Just because
I’ve been able to handle myself in the past, doesn’t mean that’s going to
work in the future. Why, my situation right here just proves that. Stupid.
Stupid me. I wish one of my colleagues were here now. They would know what
to do. They’re used to it.
Lots of people know how good I am at my job as a snake wrangler, but they
don’t know why. They don’t know that the best word I’ve come up with to
describe it is supernatural. Perhaps it runs in my family, but I was always
too afraid to bring it up to my parents, so it’s just been something I’ve
lived with on my own. I think I did a pretty good job at maximizing my
abilities to their full potential. That may all be coming to an end, though.
This new snake doesn’t give a crap what I can do, if it can even tell that
I’m special at all. Maybe it can. Maybe it knows exactly what I am, and does
not appreciate it. Maybe it thinks it’s offensive, in some way. No, that’s
dumb. It’s not that intelligent. It may be the smartest reptile in the
entire world, and it still wouldn’t have any prejudices against me. I am in
its territory, and I am a threat. That is all it knows. That is all it’s
worried about. I try to back up again, but it’s not having it. It’s not
going to risk the possibility that it’s a trick, and I’m about to attack
first. It snaps at my ankle, and before I even feel the pain, it snaps at
the other one. I falter, and fall down. I can feel the venom flowing through
my veins, headed quickly for the rest of my body. Before it can reach my
arms, I reach behind my back, and retrieve my camera. If I’m going to die,
at least people can find out why. The snake is still there, like some kind
of psychopath who needs to watch the life flicker from my eyes. I snap the
photo. Now it doesn’t seem bothered by my sudden movements at all. I guess
it’s pretty confident in the efficacy of its own venom. It has good reason
to. Man, that’s a good shot. If anyone ever finds my body, they’ll find this
picture too, and see how scary it looks. I carefully tuck the camera away in
its case to protect it from the elements. If I have truly discovered it, I
get to name it too. It will be my last act in this world. I take out my
voice recorder, and speak the first name that comes to mind, “Star Mountain
Purple Viper.” That’s not half bad.
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