Microstory 2407: Zombie Dome

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Zombies! Get your zombies here! We got fast zombies, slow zombies, zombies who are still a little bit intelligent, zombies who mindlessly continue on with the jobs that they supposedly had when they were still alive. You choose your environment, and you choose your level of difficulty, and then you just try to survive. They have some pretty crazy scenarios. I love zombies, so I’m biased, but I think you could have an entire planet just designated for this, and it would be great. Here’s what’s interesting about it, and the kind of unique thing about Castlebourne over all. They really lean into the fact that human bodies are completely expendable these days. They put a lot of work into building them for us. They have some fancy new technology that can grow a clone of you in a matter of minutes, I don’t understand it. Or you can choose your own creative avatar—like a bunny, or an iron giant—though that’s not really allowed in Zombie Dome. You’re supposed to be a human running from humanoid zombies. That’s the thing. But here’s a choice I never thought I would get to make. You can turn into a zombie in certain variations. When they bite you, if you don’t die, you continue as one of the undead. They’ll pump you full of drugs, and impair your brain processing. You’ll start walking around trying to bite other people. It’s a trip. I wanted to see what it was like, so I intentionally got bitten. Don’t worry, there are fail-safes in place. No matter how stunted your mind is, there’s always this part of you that is aware that none of this is real, and that you can break out of it if you need to. You can force your real consciousness back to the surface, and start being a normal person again. You’re dead, so you can’t keep playing like that, but you can make your way to an emergency exit, and quit playing. At that point, you can request a respawn into a normal body again, and start all over. I never felt unsafe in there even though that’s the point. It’s true, as I said, I love this stuff, so I kind of went into it really prepared. You might have a different level of preparation, but they’ll take care of you. They won’t let things go too far. Even when you’re still alive, you can put a stop to a zombie attack by uttering your safeword, which you will choose ahead of time. It can’t be too obvious, like, help, or no, stop! but I’ve seen it work. I had a bunch of buddies who were there specifically to test these systems. They chose different safewords at different times, and they always worked. We were there to test the boundaries, and make sure that the safeguards were sufficient, and never faltered. Highly recommended, but bear in mind this is not for everyone. It takes a certain kind of constitution, and most people should know whether it will be good for them or not, and again, if it’s not, you can just leave.

Microstory 1776: Serpens Novus

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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.

Microstory 1287: The Father and the Snake

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A father and his son were coming back from the market one day when the son accidentally stepped on a pile of eggs. The father examined the remains, and discovered that they belonged to a snake. The son was upset about what he had done, but his father assured him that these things happen. He was also afraid the mother would return, and be stricken with sadness for what happened, but the father also knew that this variety of snake always abandons her eggs, and would move on with her life, never knowing something had happened. Unfortunately, he was wrong. This particular mother snake was a little different. For whatever reason she felt the urge to return to her nest, and check on her babies. She was horrified by what she found there, and even though it was not in her nature, felt compelled to seek revenge on whoever killed her young. She sniffed around, and picked up the scent. Then she slithered off to hunt for the culprit. She found him, and bit the boy in the ankle. The boy nearly died, but the father acted quickly, and got him medical attention. He was angry, though, so he hunted the mother snake right back, and cut off her tail with a shovel. Now even angrier, the snake returned to the father’s home, and bit several of his cows. She bit each one of them many times, in the dead of night, so he would not be able to tend to them in time. Angrier too, the father went out to get his revenge again, but this time, he was determined to kill her, and just be done with it. But the son did not want this to happen. While he was still recovering, he struggled out of bed, and followed his father to the woods. He finally caught up with him just as they were coming upon the snake. She was prepared for a fight, and so was the father. “No,” the son declared. “You will not do this. No good can come of it.” He continued his speech, trying desperately to dissuade them from their bloodlust. The cycle of violence had to end, and both of them knew it. Neither believed the other should concede first. It was just that each worried the other wouldn’t take kindly to a truce, and that it might make things worse. But someone had to risk it. The boy’s words were enough to change them both for the better. The father apologized for the snake’s young, and the snake apologized for his cattle. She tried to apologize for the boy, but the boy insisted that all was forgiven on his end. The father and the snake did not become friends that day, but they were no longer enemies.

This story was inspired by, and revised from, an Aesop Fable called The Man and the Serpent.

Microstory 1273: The Monkey and the Coyote

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A monkey and a coyote were walking over the prairie. You may think it’s funny that such different animals might know each other, let alone be friends, but the two of them met when they were very young. They grew up on a wildlife preservation campus, along with many other animals that had been rescued by good-natured humans. Unfortunately, after the fall of civilization, the animals were set free, and had to fend for themselves. But as unlikely as it was, the monkey and the coyote stuck together. They squabbled a lot, for sure, but they always had each other’s backs. At the moment, they were arguing with each other about who was smarter, and more cunning. “I can climb the trees,” said the monkey. “And I can swing on their branches.”

“I can run fast,” retorted the coyote. “I can hide in holes.”

Just then, they heard the horn of a hunting pack. The humans had broken up into factions, and since there were no more food distribution procedures, they had to go back to the old ways of finding food in the wild. “Oh, no!” the monkey cried. “There’s nowhere to hide! They will surely catch us!”

“We can hide in those trees,” the coyote said.

The horn sounded again, but it was much louder this time. “I’ll never make it in time!” the monkey complained.

“Yes, you will,” the coyote promised him. “Hop on my back.” And so the coyote raced across the prairie with his friend, and made it all the way to the treeline, but he could not stop. The hunting pack had caught their scent, and were traveling with fierce dogs who had not been raised by good-natured humans.

“We have to climb a tree!” the monkey suggested.

“That’s impossible for me!” the coyote argued. “Why, if I could climb a tree, so could the dogs!”

“I have an idea,” the monkey said. He leapt from the coyote’s back, and grabbed onto a branch. Then he hung his tail down, and let the coyote hold onto it with his teeth. It was hard, but they both made it up the tree in time; together, and safe.

This story was inspired by, and revised from, an Aesop Fable called The Cat and the Fox.

Microstory 1272: The Donkey and the Dog

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One evening, after supper, a farmer went out to bid his animals goodnight. The cows mooed graciously. The chickens clucked in delight. The pigs oinked with glee. But they all knew that they were not his favorites. The farmer could only allow himself to grow attached to the animals he would not one day slaughter, like the horses, the sheep, and the goats. But even they could not compare to the farmer’s love for his dog, and his donkey. The dog would hop around, and try to get the farmer to play, but the farmer was old and weary. The best he could do was sit on the milking stool, and let the dog rest in his lap. The donkey wanted to be part of this as well. He hopped around playfully, but could not match the dog’s agility. He tried to mimic the dog’s adorable barks and bays, but his voice only came out in screeches, irritating the other animals in the barn. But the donkey did not give up. He gently nudged the dog off of the farmer’s lap, and attempted to take her place. “No,” said the farmer. “You are too big for my lap. You would surely crush my legs, and break my knees.” So the sad donkey slinked off to stand alone in the corner. The farmer stood up from the stool, and followed his donkey over there. He gently petted the donkey. “I am too old to ride upon your back, and you are too big to sit upon my lap. But that does not mean I do not love you. The dog ran up and affectionately bit the donkey on his leg. “I love you both equally.”

This story was inspired by, and revised from, an Aesop Fable called The Ass and the Lapdog.