Memory transcription subject: Slanek, Venlil Space Corps
Date [standardized human time]: January 16, 2137
The infected predators were whisked out of the research station, and away from the Battle of Mileau to be isolated in quarantine. The Kolshians had been holding the inner sanctum of the system, since the human fleet was mainly composed of Duerten allies. With the goal of a cured Terran race making itself evident, sending rescue teams for the Dossur prisoners was inadvisable. That would need to await proper biohazard gear, which would take days, if not weeks, to arrive.
Earth was making preparations for itself and its colonies to counter “bioterrorist” measures. Marcel wanted nothing to do with me, during our ride to the quarantine station. The cured humans would be kept isolated for study, until they determined whether the disease was communicable. Initial observations didn’t suggest transmissibility through close contact, though it wasn’t clear if other means could spread the virus. All of us relinquished blood samples for a scientist team to peruse.
Tests were run to determine the extent of the allergic reactions, and doctors came prepared to treat anaphylaxis. My bloodwork was the only one that came back allergen-free; it had been determined that the human-tailored bioweapon couldn’t cross the species border to other sapients. As such, I didn’t have to worry about any modifications to my genome, and I was free to leave at any time. The medical staff became primarily Zurulian too, after this development was confirmed.
Nobody has brought up my execution of the Kolshian prisoner, but it’s a matter of time. Has Marcel not been feeling well enough to raise the alarm?
Concern for the redhead was the reason I hadn’t vacated the facility; no matter what, having him in this situation strained my heart. I wandered up to a Zurulian medic, who was conversing with a human in biohazard gear. The quadruped swiveled around, and his face jogged some faint recognition in my mind. Had I seen this individual before? No, what mattered was discovering how Marcel was holding up, since my…former best friend wouldn’t speak to me.
“Slanek!” the Zurulian announced. “Just the Venlil I was hoping to find. When I heard you and Marcel were among the infected, I had to come.”
I leaned my head back. “We do know each other. You were there, at the battle of Earth. Helping to save his family. Your name is…”
“Wilen. You might remember my wife, Fraysa, too. We wound up living on Earth after the war, sharing notes on human and alien physiology with top experts.”
Fraysa ducked out from within a cabinet. “The Zurulian exchange program was a great way to get to learn what the predators are really like! They don’t deserve this. I understand how close you were with your human, Slanek. Mine is into gardening—gardening, for fun! A predator.”
I don’t give a shit. We met for about an hour, months ago; we’re not friends.
“Cool.” My tail twitched with irritation. “Could you guys tell me how Marcel is doing?”
Wilen squinted. “You haven’t asked him yourself?”
“Oh, of course I have! I just mean from a doctor’s perspective—what’s going on biologically. I’m worried, and I wouldn’t want to ask in front of him. You might not be as straightforward if it’s bad news.”
“Walk with me. I have to deliver these fever-reducing medicines to the sick ones,” Fraysa replied. “The short version is, the virus inserts DNA into the human genome, which induces desired immune reactions to specific meat-based proteins and enzymes. The severity varies from person to person.”
Wilen trotted after his wife. “I was just talking about Marcel’s bloodwork; I want to help him. What Fraysa is saying, is that some humans may only react severely to meat and egg foods. Others are more sensitive to lesser things they eat, like animal lactation, boiled animal tendons in gummies, or even things they wear like cured hides.”
“They put what in gummies?!” I shrieked.
“I thought you knew.”
“Forget it, Doctor. How does this relate to Marcel?”
“Marcel’s blood shows signs of an especially sensitive reaction,” Fraysa commented. “It could be because he’s vegetarian, so some of the proteins are particularly foreign to his body.”
Wilen pawed at a semi-circular ear. “I’m sure you don’t like to think this about your friend, but predatory items pervade human culture, far beyond diet. His furniture and his clothes are probably animal-sourced. Their medicine, a nurturing field by definition, is no longer safe to him; he won’t be able to get egg-based vaccines. I was informed by a human colleague that even cosmetics for dry skin and shoe polish might be off-limits.”
“Treatments for dry skin trigger the cure?” I blinked in confusion, unable to believe the predatory items ran that deep with my human. “Why?”
“Because of a wool grease called lanolin. Look, he’s going to need to be very careful. Our simulations suggest extreme cases like Marcel can’t even breathe the vapors of cooking meat, without triggering anaphylaxis.”
Fraysa slipped a pill packet under a door. “Wilen and I were shocked, realizing how deep hunting runs in the fabric of human society; it’s almost better not to know. What do you think should be done, dear?”
“I think it might be best for Marcel to live on a Federation world, if he needs to avoid animal products altogether. Maybe you could offer to take him in, Slanek, on Venlil Prime?”
My legs locked up, and left me unable to follow the Zurulian medics. Wilen and Fraysa whirled around, noting the shock on my features. Since Marcel didn’t consume meat in the first place, I figured the cure wouldn’t affect his daily life at all. It was within my knowledge that he ate some “animal products”, such as the revolting lactation juice Wilen mentioned, but I figured those could be cut out of a diet too. It wouldn’t be that big of an adjustment, given that my human already avoided them around me.
But now, I realized something as simple as his slick couch, in his Earthly home, would induce the allergic reaction. Marcel couldn’t go to social events with other humans, if breathing in the scent of flesh would place him in jeopardy. That would’ve precluded hanging out around Tyler, or being in the service at all! The vegetarian’s military days were over; it didn’t seem fair that his ordinary life was ruined too. Shit, if he got sick, he couldn’t seek some treatments at a Terran hospital anymore.
Poor Marcel will have to think of every little thing, as small as treating chapped lips in the winter. If he stays on his world, I don’t know how he can go out in public without risk…but he certainly doesn’t want to live with me.
I pinned my ears back, searching for an excuse. “Marcel has family on Earth. He has a life there!”
“It will be…difficult, for his predator relatives and friends to accommodate him. They’d need to be very cognizant,” Wilen said. “I’m not pressuring you to do anything you don’t want to. But if you care about him, you need to tell him what staying on Earth means for him.”
“He could wear some breathing mask…and a contact suit?”
Fraysa scrunched her nose. “Maybe, but does he want to do that every day of his life? It’s a rough situation. Though there is good news, Slanek.”
“What, that he’s not dead?!”
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“I’m sorry you’re so upset. But the good news is, for the air-transmission version, there might be hope of reversing the cure in the near future. The humans have their own gene-splicing systems, such as CRISPR. This incident helps them understand the general principles of what the cure adds, so it might help them identify unnatural edits in other species too.”
“I don’t care about other species! They don’t want it undone, I can fucking tell you that. Marcel does!”
“Well, the humans might be able to undo his gene edits, with proper study. If he chooses to stay away from Earth, it might only be for a little while. His normal life might be restored in a few years…maybe months. Terrans are quick studies.”
Hearing that the predators could figure out a reversal, without outside assistance, alleviated my guilt for killing Navarus. Clearly, we didn’t need any of the prisoners alive to undo the damage. Besides, there were more captives, like the scientist my friend had brought in, who could provide the information Earth sought. That demonic Kolshian, who laughed at the idea of destroying Terran culture, deserved a bullet to the head. Marcel was unreasonable, but other humans might be more rational. Maybe I was fretting over one man’s skewed morality.
I chewed on what the Zurulian doctors imparted. “You qualified the hope of reversing the cure as being for the airborne version. Does that mean the other humans, from the research station, are incurable?”
“We didn’t say that, but the injected-serum is much harder to cure,” Wilen proclaimed. “I think that’s why the Kolshians favor that method, when given a choice. They transmit the virus directly into the bloodstream, and also inject certain proteins and enzymes into the skin…to spark allergies the old-fashioned way.”
“I see. So they’re permanent herbivores.”
“Permanent’s a strong word, Slanek. Curing the genetic side would prevent the disease from being passed to offspring, at least.”
Fraysa flicked her ears. “Besides, I expect you would know, as a vegetarian’s friend, even if those people are eating grass…humans are still violent predators. The Kolshians succeeded in pissing them off, not gentling them.”
“Right! What makes them human is that they’re insane,” Wilen remarked. “So, my Venlil buddy, are you able to break the news to Marcel for us? He deserves to know right away, and it would be better coming from you. A friend.”
“Well.” My throat clammed up with guilt, not wanting to reveal our relationship’s dire straits. Selfishly, all I wanted was to see and comfort Marcel during this revelation; I could brainstorm a plan to ease my entry into his room. “Yes. I’ll tell him.”
“Excellent! Well, his door is right here; I’ll leave you to the unpleasantries.”
My eyes widened with alarm, as the Zurulians pushed me through a plastic isolation flap. It hadn’t occurred to me that the conversation’s timetable would be accelerated; I hadn’t realized we were walking past Marcel’s room, while I was distracted worrying about him. Wilen and Fraysa watched with expectancy, giving encouraging ear flicks. Nausea twirled in my belly, as I didn’t dare explain what happened between us.
My paw issued a tentative knock, before I twisted open the sealed door. The red-haired predator studied me with lethargic eyes, perspiration lining his skin. He shifted on the bed, and curled his lip with displeasure. A booming cough racked his body, causing him to fall back against the pillow. A pitcher of water had been nearly drained; he hadn’t been able to get up to refill it at the filtration sink.
“Hi Marc,” I offered.
A low groan came from his mouth. “Go…away.”
“Please, let me get you some water. I can’t leave you like this.”
I scurried over to the pitcher, feeling my heart rate hit an all-time high. Chiding myself not to drop the glass and look like more of a fool, I carted it over to the spout. The water filled the jug with the speed of molasses, and my tail swished across the floor with impatience. Temptation overtook me, so I risked a glance at Marcel. The human’s face looked puffy; it was clear his immune system was in overdrive.
I wish that I could curl up next to him, and make him feel better. I miss having such a wonderful friend.
Those hazel eyes struggled to stay focused on me, which caused sympathy to tug at my heart. I balanced the full pitcher with new determination, pressing it to his lips. The rift between us felt palpable, as Marcel reluctantly accepted the hydration for his own sake. Even in his discombobulated state, I could see that he hadn’t forgotten what I did. Fury was causing him to distance himself from me; I got the sudden feeling my lie had been what pushed him over the edge.
“I was asked to tell you something, by the Zurulian doctors,” I spoke hurriedly, while setting the pitcher down on the table. “Your reaction to the cure is severe. The doctors don’t think you should live on Earth for a while. They said you’d be deathly allergic just smelling meat or touching animal products…like apparently, your couch. Which I slept on.”
Marcel didn’t speak a word. Even in his listless stupor, his binocular eyes managed to level me with intensity. I noticed a slight lump pass down his throat; he was either swallowing down hurtful thoughts or thirst. The human, who’d become the faithful friend my world revolved around, just wanted me gone. That stung worse than the prickle of a thousand thorns, but I was glad we hadn’t quarreled again.
With legs that felt as heavy as stone, I trudged toward the door. It was impossible not to feel the predator’s gaze boring into my spine. His judgment punished me, as if he were the aggrieved party in the Navarus execution. Part of me was angry about the Terran’s mandatory policy on mercy, but I couldn’t berate him in this sorry state.
At the end of the day, I cared about Marcel. What I said to him back on the research station was accusatory and less-than-kind, though it was true enough. If this was the last time we ever spoke to each other, I didn’t want to cut contact with hurtful words. Perhaps he could learn to remember our adventures with some fondness, in time. This hadn’t been how I wanted our close-as-brothers bond to fizzle out.
“I’m sorry that they did this to you.” I kept my back turned to the human, resting a paw on the door handle. “You remember why I joined the exchange program? I read your book, Frankenstein. About a monstrosity who only wanted a friend…or acceptance, and was hated and abused by the world. Judged for his appearance.”
There was nothing but silence from the human, and the certain feel of his watchful gaze. Without looking, I could feel the dazed rhythm of his blinks. How had I ever feared that Marcel would harm me? He couldn’t dole out punishment to the people that deserved his wrath, let alone to anyone he called a friend.
“I felt sorry for the creature. For you. And maybe, in some weird corner of my brain, I was curious what it was like to be a monster,” I continued. “Now, I know that I am one too; just not one of appearances. Maybe the book was trying to say that the real monsters were the ones who wronged the physical monster. I hope you’ll find someone who sees you for what you truly are, because I can’t do it anymore.”
My paw cracked the door ajar, and I slumped my shoulders in the entryway. This went against everything that my heart desired, pulling away from the only person I thought I truly knew. The reality was that I had changed too much; Marcel didn’t sign up to be partners with someone he saw as a monster. If I could go back to how things used to be between us, I would. Now, I had nobody to turn to.
A faint growl rumbled behind me. “That whole plot you saw was bogus. The real ending…of that book. Not the censored one the UN doctored up. Do you know what it is?”
My head whipped around. “What? You changed it?”
“Of course we did. It’s a vengeful story, not one where Frankenstein’s monster is innocent and lives alone with another of his kind. The real tale? Suffering immensely from rejection…the creature strives to take everything from his creator that he ever loved. After the death of his maker occurs, the wretch commits to end his own life of unhappiness in turn.”
“That’s…” My blood ran cold, as I tried to decipher what lesson such a story could tell. That was in stark contrast to a story that garnered sympathy from the viewers; it proved the point that the monster was a monster! “I don’t understand.”
“Humans changed it because we wanted you to take the message that we could be friends. We weren’t trying to vow vengeance for our rejection then. But maybe we should’ve left the message that there are consequences, for such inhumane and callous treatment of a ‘monster.’ It’s fitting, in hindsight.”
“That doesn’t sound like something you would say…Marc.” I took one hesitant step back toward the Terran, and noticed that he had averted his eyes. “You never want consequences.”
“Fuck, you think I don’t want the bastards to pay for all of these horrible things? I have…suffered plenty too. You seem to forget.”
“Then why…why do you let every bad person we come across get away with everything?!”
“I don’t. Read the book, and maybe you’ll understand. Here…I’ve had a copy in Venlil-script on me, ever since I knew you liked it. I wasn’t sure about giving it to you, but now I am.” The human rummaged through a satchel near his bedside, and weakly held it out with a hand. I inched closer, pulling it from his slender fingers. “There’s also a lesson for the monster in there. In his revenge, the monster damned himself too. I know from Sovlin that that was almost me.”
“I lied to you. Can we ta—”
“No. Come back when you’ve finished the book, and then, we’ll talk. I…need to rest. And process my family’s future.”
My tail flicked in a gesture of acceptance, and I plodded out of his quarters with a lighter heart. Marcel didn’t sound as angry; his voice was choked with tiredness, but his hatred had evaporated. Perhaps the human didn’t have the energy to project his grudge, though I wasn’t going to complain if that was the reason. It must be a lot for him to reckon with, learning how the cure would wreck his entire life. He still hadn’t complained or exploded with emotion.
I have no idea how he really feels, but I guess I’ve started to assume he doesn’t experience hate. He’s just always so…moral.
My claw traced the cover of the real Frankenstein, wondering how it could apply to my own feelings of monstrousness. Maybe I was ready for the lessons humanity hadn’t wanted the Venlil to absorb in the beginning. I had fallen far enough to heed teachings meant for the more depraved minds among predators. Regardless, I was curious to see what the full narrative held in its pages. If this was a slight chance to salvage my friendship with Marcel, it was a no-brainer to seize it.