Chapter 5 - New sole

Toooooooom

There had been no dreams, and she knew exactly where she was. The tone had awakened her and was now fading away, but the vibrations rumbled in the bottom of her head as though they were there to stay. Had the tone even stopped since she’d first heard it? In some way, it seemed to be behind and under everything, a continuous hum on which all other things harmonized. Or maybe it was just her stomach, grinding at nothing, cramping in hunger.

As soon as her eyes had opened, her hand had been on her flank. No sign was left of the wound made by the slug’s radula, no dip or dimple, no scarring or discoloration. All she found were the soft shapes of ribs under skin, topped by the bumpy ridges of her serratus anterior connecting her scapula to her thorax.

Across the room, golden symbols glowed once again on the wall. She still couldn’t make them out, not from where she was. The last time, she’d only been able to understand the text by touching it. As far as she could tell, this had triggered the appearance of the forcefield, a mistake she’d rather avoid. And so, she decided to ignore it for now. Perhaps nothing would happen, or perhaps it would only delay things, but she’d be glad of either.

Instead, she considered the bed she was on. Its presence was somewhat surprising, but not unexpected considering the other things that the room had provided. Its base was a shelf protruding from the wall, like the one that had appeared for the proboscis but adapted to her size. The mattress was thin yet not unpleasant, made of a weave so fine that the strands of blue fibre were hard to detect. And the pillow roll was… reassuring. Plump. Squishy. She hugged it tightly, squeezing it against herself. The feeling was incredible, like filling a hole in her chest she hadn’t known was there.

The room was now less boxy than it had been at first. On one wall was her bed’s shelf, and on the wall to the left was the proboscis’. To the right remained the shower alcove, currently inactive and yet alluring with its offer of an eventual shower. And on the wall opposite, the unheeded golden text.

In the center, adding a splash of colour, was the slug, still dead, curled in a small pool of hemolymph and mucus. She wasn’t worried about the mucus pulling the fluids from her body anymore because it had mostly been quenched by the slug’s hydrating blood, but she still wanted to avoid stepping in it. Having the soles of her skin severely burned by desiccation wasn’t something she needed to be reminded of.

If only she’d had something, some kind of wrap or garment to protect her feet, she could have strode right over the mucus without worry. Glancing about, she half expected the room to provide her with a solution, but nothing appeared. She supposed that it’d only produce additional spaces and extensions connected to the room, things she couldn’t displace or take out. So, she’d have to fend for herself, find a way to avoid the same kind of sticky situation. Once again her gaze rested on the only thing of interest in the room: the slug.

Its exposed foot presented its musculature, rumpled and wavy, laced with stiff, contractile fibres. A segment of slime cord was still connected to its tail, having lost most of its adherability by being dragged and soiled. And the mantle, raised by the slug’s curled posture, subtly hinted at the shape of the internal carapace. Her eyes widened, her vision broadening and pulling back.

For a moment, the parts of the slug detached themselves from each other and hung in the girl’s mind. She had spent some time in direct contact with it, feeling its shapes and textures, breathing in the smell of its saliva and blood, even tasting the damp air that clung near its surface. She understood it. Or, at least, most of it. Maybe some of it, or just part of it. But anyway, she understood it, just as she understood the proboscis.

Everything had been confusing, but with this understanding came clarity, an opening, like the dilation of a capillary allowing a trickle of blood into parched flesh. She considered the forms of the slug’s anatomy in her mind, aware and relieved that the knowledge wasn’t coming with a headache. And in the periphery of her mind’s eye, nearly out of sight, were her other thoughts, jumbled and unfocused.

The most recent of these had been to find something to cover her feet, something protective. Something -

Her thoughts moved about, drifting together. Beneath her bare feet floated the slug’s carapace, which then split in two and two again until the pieces were just the right size to fit her soles. Meanwhile, muscle fibres peeled away from the slug's foot and wrapped themselves around the carapace, providing traction against the ground. Cords of slime slung around her ankles, between her toes, and between the carapace and muscle fibres.

The image consolidated and came together with a blink of her eyes. Without hesitation, she got to work.

Each part of her body had a task of its own, and all worked together. Her feet, knees and elbows held things in place, pressed where pressure was needed, and brought leverage and strength. Her fingers dug and pulled, straining to the rhythm of her breaths and grunts. After a series of squelching thuds came a wet snap, then three more.

Then, sitting back on the ground, she laid the pieces out before her. One was picked up, then another, and the meticulous process of joining them began. She pressed, folded, rubbed, knotted, and finally, brought the result to her feet. Rolling the proboscis lightly between her teeth, she nodded to herself. It was time to stand. Time to take stock of her creation.

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And-

They. Were. Perfect.

With a sole made of tough muscle fibres and carapace, they had grip, shock absorption, and offered protection from beneath. Fine off-white cords ran between her toes and up from behind her heel, then spiralled around and above her ankle. She rolled onto the balls of her feet, feeling the resistance and leeway the soles allowed, then jogged in place. She crouched and jumped up, but bumped her head on the ceiling.

She glared at the ceiling in frustration as she rubbed the top of her head, then felt a wave of excitement as she saw the ceiling rise slightly. It was giving her more room, allowing her to jump even higher without cracking her skull. She wanted to know - just how much space would it give her?

Crouching once more, she placed her knuckles to the ground, exhaled, and exploded forward. Her foot landed on the wall and pushed up, then the other. She wanted to see how high she could go with these on, how much further up she could push the ceiling. She'd managed six steps on the wall in the round place, but now she had the traction of her new footwear. Every step brought her closer to the ceiling, but it kept rising to stay out of her reach. By the tenth step she stalled and so lunged upwards, reaching for the ceiling as it barely rose enough to avoid her fingertips.

With a smile so broad it hurt her face, she let herself drop back downwards. She could push the boundaries of this room, and she had made armour for her feet. She felt freedom, and she had control. Things were looking up.

That is, until a disorienting pang of hunger split across her abdomen. She landed on the dismantled body of the slug and, in one swing, found herself lying on her back, her breath cut.

Wheezing and groaning she turned onto her knees and scowled at the slug’s remains. If only there was something to do with it. Getting rid of it was out of the question since perhaps she would find other uses for its parts. No, what she needed was a place to put it, to store it, to preserve it for later.

This time, she saw it happen, fully awake and attentive. It appeared beside the shower’s alcove, as though the wall were being sucked outwards. Corners bent and stretched to shape a horizontal hole, its lower part folding and extending, until it all finally came to rest. It had made a storage compartment integrated into the wall, with a sliding drawer perfectly sized for a slug. How convenient!

She readied to lift the slug but was stopped by another stomach cramp. She could even feel her stomach rumbling through her abdominal wall, making her head feel light. That sprint up the wall had taken too much energy, of which she hadn't enough to begin with. She should've restrained herself, but the need to test her boundaries had been greater. Now, she had to eat something, anything. Perhaps the room would provide once again?

Alas, nothing presented itself. Reluctantly turning towards the slug, she swallowed hard and tightened her fists. She’d have to feed on it, there was no other choice. The only question was, which part to try first?

Before she had the chance to decide, rapid movement caught her attention. The constant, golden glow of text evaporated, turning into the blueish-silver veil and archway.

Ah, so, ignoring the text hadn’t stopped this from happening. She was pretty sure the appearance of the archway had been delayed, but it had still shown up. Deciding she might as well find out what would happen if she ignored the arch as well, she turned back to the slug.

But, try as she might, she couldn’t keep her attention away from the sparkling veil. It seemed to be beckoning her, at once making her feel fear and curiosity. Surely the spectators would be there again, but was it possible they weren’t? Would there be something else waiting for her, another challenge to threaten her survival?

She toyed with the slug’s now tacky flesh, picking at it in the hopes of finding enough motivation to put some of it in her mouth. Her hunger had to compete with her disdain, stress, and foreboding, making her slow to act. Time passed too quickly before the forcefield arrived.

Again it crept across the room, funneling her towards the arch. This time she didn’t struggle, instead trying to calm her nerves and repress the emptiness that clutched at her belly. She glanced back at her shower, her bed, and her plump and squishy pillow, trying to find comfort in the fact that they would wait here for her return. Her newly shod feet slid over the ground, and the veil swept over her head, making her ears pop slightly.

The round place.

Just as it had been before. Except, on the opposite side, where had been the slug’s archway, was now a mass of pure white threads. They were slung and strung to connect the walls on either side of the arch, cutting across the space. And, if she narrowed her eyes, she could just make out something small, making its way about quickly, pulling thread along behind it.

“D o n ‘ t w o r r y-” whispered something from just over her shoulder. The girl spun around, expecting to find herself face to face with one of the spectators, but instead found them all still above the walls. One of the faces, however, turned its black eyes down to her “- i t w o n ‘ t a t t a c k y o u. N o t y e t .”

She took a step back, readying herself to run and jump up the wall, the proboscis held at the ready.

“ Y o u a r e n ‘ t v e r y s m a r t , a r e y o u? H a v e n ‘ t y o u u n d e r s t o o d , y o u c a n ‘ t g e t u p h e r e , n o m a t t e r h o w h i g h y o u j u m p . ” continued the whisper, seeping into her head.

“ T h a t ‘ s r i g h t , s e t t l e d o w n . Y o u k n o w , I ‘ m i n t r i g u e d b y y o u . Y o u ‘ v e w o n t w o b o u t s , a n d c l e a r l y y o u a r e i n t e l l i g e n t . A n d y e t , y o u a r e s o i n c r e d i b l y s t u p i d . ” said the spectator, its face cracking into a small, black grin. The girl didn’t think she liked this thing, no matter what it was.

“ H o w c a n y o u b e s o g i f t e d , a n d y e t s o u n a w a r e ? Y o u h a v e n o t e v e n a c c e s s e d y o u r m e n u y e t . E v e n t h e d u m b s l u g h a d d o n e t h a t . N o w , t e l l m e , q u i c k l y , b e f o r e y o u d i e : w h at , e x a c t l y , i s y o u r g i f t ? I r e a l l y m u s t k n o w . ”

The girl had never had to process so much information before. It was direct communication, words and language, and contained so many layers of intent that it was overwhelming. It wasn’t even clear if the voice was being transmitted by sound through her ears, or directly into her mind.

Either way, it had insulted her, called her stupid, not smart, told her to settle down. And, it had called the slug dumb. For some reason, this was the thing that bothered her the most. It knew nothing about the slug, whereas she knew it very well, and it had not been dumb.

She lifted her head and broadened her shoulders. Her gaze didn't falter as the spectator’s grin widened, as it detached itself from the tiers and glided down towards her. She didn't know what it meant about her having a gift, but an answer came to mind. And so, the moment she judged that it was close enough, she expressed herself, taking inspiration from the slug’s back end.

She spat. Right at its not-smart, stupid, dumb, blank face.

How’s that for a gift?

End of Chapter 5