This whole thing is a mess, Jack thought, sitting on a stump and smoking a cigarette. His twin was prancing about, talking excitedly to a group of reporters and assorted politicians. She was animated, using grand hand gestures, and a smile practised in a mirror. It was sickening. Jill even dressed up to the occasion, a black pencil dress and a sharp hair bun, with a black ribbon in it. Who does that?
Jack shooed away a reporter who tried to get too close to him. They should have never agreed to this. It's not even their house. He took a puff of smoke. Why did Steve's grandma agree to this? Why did he?
Because Jill convinced him. She even somehow managed to make him wear a suit. Jack drew the line at pointy boots; nothing can beat a good pair of sneakers.
It was barely a few weeks, and Steve's disappearance became news. It helped that there was CCTV footage of him just straight up disappearing in the air. His half-smoked cigarette was still there, police tape jerkily elected around it, like some kind of modern art. A few reporters were taking pictures of it.
Jill, a few feet away from Jack, was winding down from her retelling of the events, with more detail than necessary.
"So," she said. "Any questions?"
A reporter lifted his hand.
"Yes?"
"Why did you forcefully kiss your friend?"
Jack began laughing.
"It was a bit more complex than that," Jill said carefully.
"Shoving your tongue down someone's throat without permission seems pretty simple to me," another reporter said.
"We were drunk." Jill lifted her hands. "Give me a break."
"You just entered their trap," Jack said, inhaling deeply.
"That's not an excuse," piped a third one. "You would think millennials would understand that."
"Yes," another added. "Kissing someone passionately out of the blue is no laughing matter."
Silence descended. Everybody was looking at each other, trying to find the source of the comment. Nobody volunteered.
"Hey," Jack said, more to break the awkward atmosphere than from any genuine desire to continue this farce. "You are here to find out what happened to our friend, right? Not to lecture us about how useless we are as a generation."
"We said no such thing!" the second journalist said, anger spiking.
"Sure." Jack waved dismissively. "and I'm the tooth fairy, nice to meet you."
"Are you calling me a liar?" The journalist's face was turning red. "Think carefully about what you are insinuating," The other journalist began taking notes furiously.
"Oh no, I'm just calling myself the tooth fairy," Jack said, kicking his sister. He could do with some support right about now.
Jill did not respond. Something kept popping into the corner of her eye. It came from the spot Steve was last seen. Squinting at it, she could barely make out a faint line, extending upwards from the cigarette, stopping roughly at head height.
"Jill," Jack hissed between clenched teeth. "I could use some help right now."
"Look," Jill said, gesturing with her head.
"Can't you see I need help?"
"Just look."
The line was widening. Cracks began to appear, extending like broken glass. The whole thing took on a pale blue glow.
"What is so important that you are ignoring your dear brother?" Jack kicked her again.
There was an angry cry from the journalists. Abuse? Twice? Not on their watch. They started advancing. Well, two of them did, the rest just continued taking notes. This is the kind of story that generates clicks.
"Dammit!" Jill shouted, stamping on Jack's foot. "Look, dammit!" She pointed in frustration.
Everybody stopped. They turned around. The line in the sky was thick as a brick, cracks extending in every direction, like blue tree branches. The glow was intense.
"What the fuck is that?" Jack stood up and took a step back.
"Steve?" Jill said, rooted to the spot.
The journalist picked up their cameras. This is gold. Thankfully, they were smart enough to bring some firepower with them, just in case.
Said firepower, two police officers, was spread out in a semicircle, pistols drawn. They did not like mysterious shit.
A thin green tentacle appeared in the line. Then another. Then another. A dozen, all pulsating with soft blue lines. They arranged themselves around the line and began to push. Slowly, ponderously, the line widened. It was not a line anymore, but a small oblong, the cracks around it multiplying, making a sound like shattering glass.
Jill took a step back. The journalist stepped closer, trying to get the perfect shot. The policemen took the safety trigger off. Jack lit another cigarette.
The tear was the size of a beach ball now. A head poked through. It was green, human-shaped, and with a friendly smile. Thin tentacles spread out from the face, continuing their mission of widening the hole. The whole thing looked like a demented sunflower.
"Hello," it said, in a smooth, perfect English. "I'm R.B Slyme. Nice to meet you all."
Silence. Someone flashed a camera. Jack looked down at his cigarette and in one smooth motion; he pressed it to Jill's thigh. She waved in irritation but did not look down. Jack pressed it to his own skin. Nope. Not a dream.
"I'm here in peace," Slyme continued, his gaze focusing on the twins. "I bring news of Steve."
"WHAT?" Jill shouted. "How do you know Steve?"
"I don't know him, not exactly. I know about him."
"What are you?" Jack said. "Some kind of Cthulhu shit?"
"The old ones!" Jill snapped. "How many times do I need to fucking tell you not to disrespect Lovecraft in front of me?"
Jack shrugged.
"An eldritch horror?" Slyme chirped. "Sent from beyond the cosmic veil to destroy every last man, woman, child, and even the slightest trace of human DNA from this planet for the crimes committed against existence itself?"
Silence. Someone tried to take a picture but was quickly stopped by his fellow journalists. One of the policemen almost shot Slyme in panic. A tentacle shot out, extending into a razor-sharp point at the cop's neck. The other officer froze.
"Put the gun down," Slyme said, in a calm and collected tone. "There is no need for violence. Well, maybe some, so you understand that if you go there, I will absorb your bodies, slowly while you suffocate in my ooze."
The cop put down his gun.
"Now," Slyme continued. "Can we continue our conversation?"
"Yes?" Jack's voice came as more of a croak than human speech.
"What Jack meant," Jill took over with a kick. "is that yes, are you an eldritch horror beyond evil?"
"No, no." Slyme waved a tentacle through his face. "I assure you I'm no such thing."
"Then, what are you?" Jack said. "If you don't mind me asking, of course," he added hastily.
"I'm a techno-slime."
"Ah."
Pencils moved furiously. Jack opened his mouth, stopped, and closed it.
"You could say I'm a union between flesh-eating gelatine and an A.I. robot the size of a house," Slyme added.
"Ah."
"Right," Jill said, rolling with the punches. "So how can we be of assistance Mr Slyme?"
"Right right, negotiations," Slyme said, wiggling a bit. "Give me one second to get out of here."
And with that, his face melted, hitting the ground with a wet plop. More ooze followed shortly, pouring out in great rivulets. It was like watching someone pour gelatine onto a mould. First, the legs, then a torso, arms, neck, and with a final plop, the head and face. Slyme lifted his hands.
"Thank you, thank you," he said, bowing gracefully.
Silence.
"It was not easy, you know, pushing myself through the cracks in reality."
More silence. Jack lit a cigarette. What a day.
"So, let me get this straight," Jack began, throwing an empty cigarette box on the floor. "Steve got somehow snatched up by some deity or something, then got his soul put into a vegetable."
"Language!" snapped Jill.
"A person!" snapped Jack. "Not a vegetable, a person with a fried brain. Happy?"
"Yes."
"Anyway, he, she, is going by Stacy now," Jack continued. "and now you want us to merge with you in some kind of superior being?"
"Yes," Slyme nodded enthusiastically.
They were sitting in Steve's old kitchen. Or at least what was left of it. Which is basically nothing besides a stove, some bottles of alcohol, and an ashtray that was half was spilling out. Jack and Slyme were sitting on the floor. Or at least the equivalent of sitting. The techno slime looked like a jelly left out in the sun, with only the head sticking out from the middle bit.
Jill was rummaging in the house for any alcohol or cigarettes. She was sure she could find some. A bastard like Steve always hid them in different nooks and crannies, so he always had one on hand no matter where he was.
When Steve disappeared, Granma Eszter waited a few days, sold the small house and moved back to her country of birth. She took everything with her too, anything that could not be sold that is. Steve's bed, computer, the fridge, and heck she even sold Steve's collection of rare alcohol. Jill wanted that badly, but noo. "You are a bitch!" Grandma Eszter said in her accented English. "Saw what did on camera, your fault angry god took grandchild."
Ha! Jokes on you stupid foreign woman, it was not God; it was the idea of curiosity itself. Jill stopped in front of the bathroom. Alright so, maybe a god is not a wrong explanation. What is even happening? Sentient fucking mucus shows up and wants to merge? What the fuck does that even mean? She slapped herself. Focus.
Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.
She entered the bathroom. You know what it means, a traitorous voice whispered, it means combining into a new being, anime style.
Why would I do that, Jill asked herself. The response came immediately. You always felt alone and useless without Jack being near you, and he feels the same. You even invented this whole synchronisation thingie to be closer to each other.
Jill scoffed. Where is this voice coming from?
You know damn well where I'm coming from. Both of you even try to sleep with the same person so you could be closer to each other without it being too weird; it's just a threesome after all. It's weird anyway.
A pause. The voice was right. That one was not thought out smartly.
Alright, Jill said to herself, so should I just accept the merger? Yes. But the techno slime is in the package too. So what, you will have cool M.R. Elastic powers. It's fucking sentient mucus, not a comic book character. Still powerful, still powerful, the things you could do, the abilities at your fingertips, limitless.
Jill did not reply; she spied something from the corner of her eye. She was rummaging through the cabinet over the sink, and a tile caught her eye. Most of the bathroom was sparkling clean, the kind of sparkle that speaks of recent scrubbing. One tile, however, next to the showerhead, looked a bit out of place. In fact, it looked well used, like no matter how many times you scrub it won't shine.
Jamming the corners of it with her car keys, Jill managed to dislodge it. There. A pack of half-smoked cigarettes and a bottle of rum three thirds full. Excellent.
Walking back quickly, she plopped down next to her twin. She tossed him the cigarettes, and she opened the bottle.
"Let me guess," Jack said, a stick already lit in his mouth. "It was in the bathroom."
"Yep," Jill replied, taking a swig from the bottle.
"The bastard. I knew he was hiding shit in there."
"So," Slyme butted in. "did you decide?"
"No," Jack said.
"Yes," Jill said.
"What?" Jack looked his sister in the eye. "Are you crazy? We don't know this bastard," He turned hurriedly towards Slyme. "No offence meant."
"Some taken."
"And we don't even know what will happen to us if we merge," Continued Jack. "What does that even mean?"
"Look," Slyme butted in. "The only reason I came to you first is that I thought it would be hilarious seeing if the three of us merge. I could go to any person to ask for this; I'm sure I can find someone else."
"But," Jill said. "you need someone who voluntarily wants to merge, right?"
"Yes," the blob admitted. "But if it gets too complicated I'm gonna find someone else. I can't be bothered to wait too much."
"So," Jack said, mind racing. You could tell by the two cigarettes he was smoking at once. "You just want someone to merge with to increase your power and intellect, and you choose us because we're the closest, but you have no qualms in moving on if we don't accept."
"That is correct."
"And," Jack continued. "Let's say we accept. You have no qualms in experimenting in the more sensual arts?"
"I would not call the method dual gendered organics to reproduce, art," said Slyme. "But yes, I don't have a dislike of mating if that's what you are asking."
"So if we merge you would not mind if we go on little adventures?"
"If that's what the new being that emerges from our union wants, then yes, sure."
"Then we agree," Jack said, taking a swig from the bottle. "Right, dear sister?"
"Right, dear brother," Jill said, shuffling forwards. "So what's next?"
"Let's go to the crack in reality," Slyme said, forming him into a humanoid shape. "It's easier to merge there."
"Crack in reality?" Jack said, standing up.
"Isn't that dangerous?" Jill added, gratefully accepting a helping hand.
"We will be fine," Slyme assured. "It's just a small crack."
"Yes, in reality," Jack said. "Don't tell me that's how we were the closest? Jumping to another reality does not sound close to me."
"It's fine," Slyme repeated, moving towards the door. "Come."
"Famous last words," Jill muttered, following anyway.
"What about the reporters and cops," Jack said, taking the bottle with him. "They are still outside."
"And?" Slyme replied. "We should care about them because?"
"Point."
In a room where the laws of the universe took a vacation, the only person keeping the multiverse, no, existence itself together was having a meltdown.
Reality was tearing his hair out. More precisely, he was moving his surprisingly humanoid hand quickly about his flaming hand and cursing loudly.
"AAA, this is why I hate ideas; they influence reality." He stopped waving his hands when his head exploded into black flame. "See, this is why I insist on this system of keeping the multiverse apart. But noo, Reality, you are the bad guy, why are you imprisoning me in limbo. Why did I even agree to let them become a mercenary band!"
"Boss," said Coincidence, hunched over the table. "Calm down! Calm down!" His head exploded again. "Just look at this!"
His bellowed office table was taken up by Coincidence, hunched over a sleek, metallic computer. It looked like one of those small, but surprisingly high-tech computers found in wealthy universities and people who don't understand that a truly powerful computer needs to sound like a jet engine. Its side was off, exposing a sleek, compact set up, with a myriad of wires and processors blinking inside.
"A perfect universe," Reality said. "No magic, no reality-bending technology, no super organism, nothing that could escape. The perfect design." He took in a deep breath, and his head exploded again, flames disappearing into the distance. "Except this!"
He pointed angrily to the front of the computer, where a piece of it was missing. Well not precisely missing, more like the fabric of space and time was gone from that part, replaced with a small white and grey hole. A thin, green and slightly wet ooze extended from it, all the way to the other side of the desk, connected to another computer.
"Just look at this!" Reality wailed. "It does not even look like a computer! What in the name of creation is this?"
Reality was right. Calling the other item a computer, or any kind of recognisable device, was a bit hard. True, it was a bit boxy, but that state usually lasted about 5 seconds, then pieces of metal half sticking out would appear and repair randomly. Colourful geometric shapes danced across the surface.
"It even split in four once," Reality continued. "And rearranged itself into a robot! A robot!"
"Boss, you are gonna burn this place down if you're not careful," Coincidence said.
"A robot! A whole universe rearranged itself into a robot! Not only that, but it went back to normal shortly afterwards! Why do we let this mockery of reality exist?!"
"Because even if you don't like them, they are real. And once they are real, they are a part of you, no matter how much you don't like it. "
"And if it exists," Reality continued, anger subsiding for the moment," No matter how improbable, it has the right to live."
"Exactly," Coincidence said, looking Reality in the eye. "We have one chance to stop it." Carefully, he put back the computer's side but did not bother screwing it in place. "More precisely, you have a chance."
"Me?" Reality stepped forward. "Really?"
"Yes."
"Why can't you do it? I thought that's what you were doing, fixing the problem. You know I don't like interacting with myself, it feels weird."
"It takes all my essence to keep the tears in the universe from spreading and messing with the laws of physics. If I strained my powers any more…"
"Right right," Reality took a deep breath. "We did manage to stop those space chickens from taking over that hellish universe, so I'm going to listen to you."
"Good," Coincidence leaned forward. "The plan is simple. According to my surveillance, the being calling itself R.B. Slyme it's there just for a quick errand, and any second now will be going back to his home universe."
"If that thing can even be called a universe." Reality grumbled.
"When that happens, there will be one second, one moment, when R. B Slyme won't exist, trapped in the space between universes, the place that's not supposed to exist. Here. You will have exactly one chance to slap him away.
"Right, Right," Reality nodded enthusiastically. "He will then fall on my desk, and we can catch him and throw him in with the rest of the annoyances."
"Exactly!" Coincidence smiled. "Can I trust you to do that boss?"
"Yes," Reality stepped up to his desk. "Just say the word.
"Good," Coincidence took off the side of the sleek computer. "I'm going back to monitor the situation. "
The crowd gathered around the door quickly dispersed once they saw who came out first. Quite a few policemen and even some fire-fighters gathered at the house in the meantime, preparing to rush inside, guns and hoses blazing, to stop the extra-terrestrial threat. Once they actually saw the treat, they reconsidered.
It's one thing being told some kind of living mucus appeared out of the hole, in reality, it's another thing entirely to actually see an individual half walking half plopping around, even with all the pictures and videos sent beforehand. These kinds of things are easy to fake.
"I mean no harm!" Slyme raised his hands. "But if any of you dare to threaten my associates or me, I will personally gut each one of you and wear your skin as pants."
"What do you want?!" the most senior police officer shouted, safely behind two cars and a megaphone.
"It will only take a few seconds, and we will be gone."
"We?"
Slyme ignored them, walking towards the tear in reality. A few reporters began moving closer for a scoop, but a sharp look from Slyme made them reconsider. They were curious, but at the same time, not interested enough to find out how they would look like pants.
Now, the tear was the size of one of those yoga balls that everyone swears will fix your back if you sit on it. The only thing anyone uses for it, however, is hitting your friend with it. Or watching a small child try to climb it, laugh at their effort, and frantically try to catch said child when they inevitably start slipping off from the top, usually when near a dangerous obstacle, like a window.
Some of the journalists tried to take a picture of the floating hole. Any photograph of it exclusively showed R.B. Slime in extremely sensual and visually pleasing poses and shapes. Cracks continued to spread around the tear. Some of them went in different directions, disappearing into the ground, into the air, and bisecting the house. If you touched a crack, nothing happened, at least no visible effect.
In the coming months, a few of the participants will wake up with strange and esoteric abilities, like being able to feed themselves by planting their feet on the ground and staring at the sun for two hours, or the ability to create scantily clad clones of themselves, or the very puzzling ability to turn every beverage they touch into coffee.
That, however, is a story for another time.
Slyme stopped in front of the tear, the twins fanning around him. He put his head in the hole.
"We don't have much time," he said, pulling his head back with a snap. "Give me your hands."
"Right," Jack grabbed Jill with his other hand. "Now what?"
"Think about merging," Slyme said, voice entering a hypnotic pitch. "It will be easier if you close your eyes first."
They did.
"Merging is just the next step of evolution, a cheat code if you will. A forming of a new consciousness, of achieving a superior existence. Do you feel your body? Your soul? Good. Start from the bottom, from the soles, up the leg, slowly, feeling each joint and sinus, stopping right above the pelvis. Keep it there, jiggle it around a bit, then let it spread, slowly, along your arms, neck, and up to your head. Let it pass slowly, gently, past your lips, around your nose, eyelids, and finally, your forehead. Let it enter your mind."
A gentle blue glow began emanating from Slyme. A few reporters sat down and linked hands. A fireman joined them. The police started their own circle. Relaxation is rare these days, get to take it where you can.
"Now, you have a sense of who you are, where you begin, and where do you end. Let's extend that, shall we? Lift your hands. Good. Now, feel the hand of the person next to you. Feel the pulse, smooth surface, and the sweat. Let the texture and shape burn in your memory. It's your hand now."
The twins began to glow, Jill a soft brown, her brother a dull yellow.
"You are not one person anymore; you are many. You are not one but many. Your mind is not one but many."
Each glow intensified and grew. Where the colours touched each other, sparks grew. Jack jolted in pain.
"Let go," Slyme said. "You are still clinging to your individuality. Let go. You will not die; you will evolve in a superior being. Let go of your old existence and embrace the new."
They did. The sparking stopped. The colours began to blend together. Everybody present began to bend slightly backwards. The grass started barking. Steve's cigarette stood up on invisible legs, shook itself and jumped into a nearby crack and disappeared. The world shook.
Slyme, Jill and Jack contorted, blending together like a child's mismatched attempts at colouring. The boundaries of the mind began dissolving, along with any semblance on who was who.
The melding of three minds is a strange experience, all you are, all you were, your memories, your habits, thoughts, feeling, and neural system falling apart, but not dissolving. Instead, they are combined with other people's intimate memories.
It's quite uncomfortable finding out your brother had fantasies of shagging your ex-boyfriend despite his protest that he's straight, added to that the feeling of millions of people dissolving in your ooze in the course of a few decades…
The new and improved R. B. Slyme was very, very confused. Part of him, the cautions as a thinking part, shot out to the ground, wanting to take a second to calm down and consider things.
At the same time, in a place far away, Reality was losing his sanity. There was not much left to begin with anyway.
"What do you mean he is merging into a new being!" Reality screamed, head exploding into a massive black ball of flame.
This would have been the perfect opportunity for spittle to fly out of Reality's mouth, sadly all water from his body evaporated a long time ago.
"Relax boss," Coincidence said, head in the bowels of the computers. "So what if the Slyme is acquiring even more power and evolving itself into a higher consciousness, we got this."
"Oh no, no no," Reality wailed on his assistant. "You are tempting fate by saying that!"
"Boss, I would love to lift my head and give you a flat look, seeing as fate, chance, Coincidence, or whatever you wanna call me is the only thing keeping the laws of physics on this earth from changing, so please pay attention. We have one chance!"
"Alright, Alright," Reality focused on the green slime connecting the two computers. "Tell me when to swat this bug out of existence."
"Will do!"
In that exact moment, the green line began bulging and blubbing, like someone really drunk was trying to make a balloon animal. Reality, in a moment of panic and fear, screamed loudly and brought his hand down in a karate chop.
"Boss!" Coincidence screamed. "Noo!"
It was too late. Reality's chop made the ooze bounce once on the table, and then snap in half. The resulting recoil was so fast and violent, it made the two computers slide back on the table, leaving deep gouges in the desk. Coincidence barely had time to pull his head out.
"Noo," the assistant cried. "Boss, you made it worse. In place of one universe hopping slime monster, we have two!"
True to his word, there were two strands of oozes now, each one extending from a computer. The one that could not decide if it was a square or a disco ball reacted first, metal legs popping up from the bottom, its colour scheme changing to yellow and red, and began making suction sounds. In seconds, the green strand got hovered in one of its many openings, and the computer plopped back down onto the desk with a loud thud.
The other, more sleek and simple universe was not doing that well. The grey and white hole in its side disappeared, the ooze remaining. Slowly, letting out noises that only a dying machine could, it began the process of absorbing the strand, slowly turning green at the point of impact.
"Shit," Reality swore. "I can fix this!"
"Boss noo!" Coincidence cried out.
But it was too late. Reality touched the ooze. Instantly, like it was spooked, it began coiling on itself at such high speeds, when it reached the side of the computer, the whole thing rocked back and forth for a bit. The slime, realising the danger it was in, began pushing itself into the computer with tremendous force, spreading cracks along the device's surface and squeezing in as fast as possible.
Coincidence lifted the side panel, took a good look at the cables and wires dripping with green ooze and the sparks flying everywhere and put it back gently. Slowly, he put his head in his hands and said, "Why do I even try…" The assistant burst into tears.