Paradigm Shift

Chapter 7

It all started to look the same as Taylor's head swirled in circles—every panel on the corridor walls started to bleed together into a never ending spiral of white nothingness. The door to the bathroom bounced at the end of the long tunnel just barely in sight of Taylor's vision. Then, all of a sudden, his hand pressed against the door, and he was inside. It was dark; black tiles ran the entire wall, floor and ceiling—and the sink was dark too—Taylor slammed himself into the counter and puked.

He eased his head to the clear, pristine mirror; his lower lip began to throb, and his eyes reddened. . .Sweat began to glisten on his forehead. . .

As he leaned closer, Taylor saw a silver worm wriggle under his cornea—and into his pupil.

His finger froze when he lowered the eyelid, carefully examining the red lines in the white of his eye. Scrapes and minor abrasions from the worm drew white, thin lines across his bumpy sclera. Red inflamed blood vessels on the cornea spread across the eye like spider webbing threads.

Taylor's head suddenly became light as a feather, and he passed out.

—-

Doctor, whats wrong? Is he sick?"

"Don't worry Anders, he'll be alright. It's just a fever. I gave him some ibuprofen to quell it."

. . .

Don't listen to them.

Don't trust anyone.

. . .

Lights blared in his eyes—heaven—he thought. But when he rubbed his eyes, the room came in full clarity. He was in medbay, sitting on a bed.

His stomach clenched.

At the counter, Dr. Sydnee worked quietly cleaning up her station, fumbling around as she opened cupboards and put everything away.

"Doctor," Dr. Sydnee turned to face Taylor, "what's wrong with me?"

Taylor squeezed his stomach—his other hand to his throat, and fell off the bed. He coughed once, glorifying puking, and spat out the spit that frothed at his mouth.

"Taylor, Taylor, hey, look at me, Taylor. Taylor, look at me."

His throat bulged and wavered as a huge ball of mucus flowed out like a waterfall, and a thick lump wriggled into his mouth and over his lips. He gaged and choked on the huge, fleshy sphere until it passed between his teeth.

The ball slapped onto the ground.

A curled up, yet small, beating ball of meat throbbed on the metal floor.

"What the fuck is that?" Dr. Sydnee backed up into the counter.

Still on the floor, red snot and blood clots seeped down Taylor's chin—he stood up shakily as the ball of tissue started to twitch. From the light, the clear liquid was transparent, showing the two beady eyes and little hands and legs curled around the bulging forehead.

"That's—that's um. . .an embryo I think."

It was gray, however, unlike any embryo should be, unlike any animal on Earth. . .

But they weren't on Earth anymore. . .

The embryo twitched again, breaking through the thick, transparent tissue; it's claws raking across the floor. Then, pop, the beast was released. A pale, off colored animal with a thin, frail body slowly tilted its long, obtuse head, scanning the area; it's little gnarly hands reached up towards the light.

It was. . .cute. . .possibly. . .maybe. Just maybe.

Dr. Sydnee stepped closer to the thing. Then closer, and closer—watching it with scared eyes—and closer, until she was crouching above it. The little beast tilted his head forward to the doctor, reached out with its long, boney sticks for limbs—the skin wound tightly around the stiff joint so that the bones jutted out—and long fingertip like pads. Dr. Sydnee touched it.

"See, it's alright, it's just another harmless animal," she cooed.

"Doctor, that thing isn't earthen, or even from our own galaxy. . .I've never seen anything like it before on my travels." Taylor, very dubious about the animal, stiffly clenched the bedside railing.

"No, see it's completely harmless—" Dr. Sydnee looked up at Taylor when the animal grabbed hold of the her finger, wrapped its tail around her arm, and slithered to her neck.

The small beast tightly coiled around her frail neck, tightening and tightening its grip. Dr. Sydnee fell backwards, clawing at the opaque alien. Then, after being scratched by her, the slithering snake grabbed the doctor's face, forcefully opened her mouth, and sunk deep into the gaping hole. She froze from shock—dead on impact—as her throat throbbed from the intrusion, and her stomach shivered.

Then, everything was still as it had been before, and Taylor—completely frozen—stood agape.

Dr. Sydnee's shirt bulged, and sank, bulged, and sank again. . .then, the little head bursted through the shirt, and climbed across the lifeless body; bloody bits and snot covered the alien's head.

Before the pale animal reached Taylor's foot, he ran to the door and repeatedly hit the lock door mechanism. A brief, short pause occurred—the opaque creature crawled across the floor like that of a large spider—and then the door finally closed with a hiss of it locking.

Taylor let out a sigh just as the beast jumped onto the small window, clawing and biting the holographic head displayed on the glass.

—-

It all started to look the same as Taylor's head swirled in circles—every panel on the corridor walls started to blend together into a never ending spiral of white nothingness. That is, until he bumped into him.

"Mr. Taylor, I'd advise you to lay off the brandy Dr. Watson keeps offering." It was a mild shoulder tap, but Artemis—clever as ever—retorted back, but Taylor was shaken from the monstrosity he witnessed and kept stumbling down the hall.

The android simply smiled.

—-

When he entered the medbay, Artemis found the pale creature curled up in the corner. He whistled for it to come.

Slowly, the arachnid like creature with its eight long, slick legs and multiple black thick eyes turned to Artemis—it's father. Then, it scurried across the floor to his feet where the android then picked up his child; the pale creature wrapping its arms and legs around his neck, pushing its head against his chest.

"My dear child, you have failed me." It, however couldn't understand English, "you couldn't even finish with the body like a well mannered boy—you couldn't even kill the host." He took out his knife and brought it across the frail neck of the alien, cutting the head clean off. . .he dropped the body.

"Maybe your offspring will better serve me. Maybe then I'll be proud of my creations."

The body twitched like that of a chicken after it's head was cut off, then, it went still; the black beady eyes still staring at the ceiling, wondering if there's a heaven for lost, soulless creations made by machine.