When I woke, it was dark. The sun had set while I was shivering and ill, and it was some time after 9pm, at least according to my alarm clock. I was honestly surprised to wake up, and as I lay in my bed I realized I felt uncomfortable and damp... Did I? Oh geez. I crawled out of bed, to find not only had I somehow wet the bed while I lay sleeping, I was soaked with sweat and stunk to high heaven of BO, beer and last nights vomit. I felt completely disgusting...

“Shower.” I muttered. “Now.”

I stripped and threw the dirty clothes into the hamper, and did the same for the bedsheets. I hadn’t wet the damn bed since I was 10 years old... What the fuck did that goop do to me? I climbed into the shower and turned on the faucet, and soon soothing hot water was sluicing the stink and the grime off of me. Dunking my head under that stream of warm water felt like I was washing all the stress of the last twenty four hours away too. It felt good – refreshing and renewing. I needed it badly.

As I soaked and soaped up, I couldn’t help but notice that everything felt more sensitive than it should... certainly more than I was used to. Was that stuff messing up my nervous system? I had no way to know. My senses felt sharper, especially my sight and hearing, and I felt – aside from the grime – that I was doing pretty well physically. I felt healthy. I felt good.

Eventually, I was done showering, and climbed out of the shower and towelled off. I finished drying off – only to find virtually all of my body hair either on the floor, or wiped off by the towel. “What the fuck is going wrong with me?” I muttered. My hairless skin felt strangely even more hypersensitive, and I tried to keep from freaking out as I went and got dressed. Did I have some alien disease? Was I going to transform into a hideous beast? Scenes from various horror and sci fi movies danced through my brain, and I realized I had no idea what was happening to me... and if I went to a doctor, at best they probably wouldn’t know either – and at worst, the government would get called in and I’d disappear. I was at the mercy of whatever this stuff was and couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

Finally clean and dressed, I went to the kitchen and started warming up a microwave dinner. I normally prefer cooking to instant prepared foods, but right now I was so damn hungry I felt it would be okay this once – just to tide me over until I could get something more filling and healthy to eat. A quick look in the fridge showed I would need to take care of a grocery run soon, too, if I planned on eating later this week. Fuck.

When the food was done, I took it and some cutlery and sat in the living room, turning the TV on to catch anything worthwhile. There was the regular collection of sitcoms and cop shows, doctor and legal dramas, and young adult genre stuff – which I favoured. I tuned the TV to the latest episode of Mayhem, a TV show about the popular superheroine Miss Mayhem. It was one of those “inspired by real life” superhero shows, and I had heard the actress, Jaime Forest was up for an Emmy. Tonight there was a crossover between this show and “Dastardly” – a superhero show about an anti-hero who apparently saved good people by shooting bad people with arrows. Huh? It wouldn’t work in real life – the authorities frowned on archers perforating people before they’ve been convicted of any crimes – and I wondered how the story would resolve itself... Miss Mayhem was a stickler for law and order.

I lost myself in the show, eating the TV dinner and ignoring my worries for a little while. For some reason, I just couldn’t get into the show – the heroics seemed silly and fake – and the villain seemed cartoony. It wasn’t any different than last week, really – but for some reason this time it felt different. I finished my small meal and turned the TV off, and just leaned back into the couch to rest a moment. What was that stuff? I wondered. Where did it come from? Was it alive? I sighed. As usual, there were no answers.

Then it hit me... Dad was dying – and now maybe I was too! If something happened to me, who was going to take care of dad? Who was going to deal with the bills, take care of the house – assuming we didn’t lose it – or make sure dad got buried in the family plot. Oh shit! Allfather, watch over me, I prayed. Take my father to your hallowed halls, and if I deserve it, me as well. I fingered my amulet of Mjolnir as I prayed, and brought it to my lips, and kissed it, before sliding it back under my shirt.

Dad and I were pagans, I guess. We followed the old ways of Scandinavia and Norway – the Aesir, or Norse gods. Dad was raised in the tradition by his parents, and his parents before them. His favourite shirt said “Better to be a wolf of Odin than a Sheep of God,” and I had to agree, which made my shame for the previous night all the worse. Suicide is not a good way to gain the gods favour, if you follow the Norse ways. Quite the opposite, in fact. The Norse version of Hel was not a pleasant place, and I had no desire to spend the rest of eternity there, thank you very much.

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No, the truth was, even though it was a moment of weakness, I had actually considered ending my life. I felt shame for my cowardice, and I knew it was going to be a while before I would get over it. Assuming I lived that long. I sighed in frustration, and decided it was time to get up and make something more substantial to eat.

I headed to the kitchen and looked in the fridge. I had six eggs, some processed cheese, some spring onions, and a few mushrooms from the supermarket. An omelette looked like it was on the horizon! I quickly got about the business of making the rest of my dinner, and soon the eggs, onions, and cheese were cooking in my frying pan with the addition of some butter – never margarine! Ewww! As the eggs began to get firm, I gave the whole thing a flip and let the other side start to cook. I liked my eggs kind of hard and brown – what some people would call overcooked. Sue me. Once dinner was ready, I slid my omelette onto a dinner plate and grabbed some sriracha sauce – I liked a bit of heat on my eggs.

Returning to my chair in the living room, I got settled and started to reach for the hot sauce, when I heard that voice again – the voice from the pod... and once again, it was in my head.

*Please don’t use that sauce on your food.*

“What the fuck?” I whispered out loud.

*Please don’t use that sauce on your food. We’ll both regret it.*

The voice was a light soprano – it felt or sounded to my inner ears like a woman’s voice. It was a strong voice – but it was asking, not demanding... and it was speaking in English.

“Who are you? How are you talking in my head?”

*Who I am is a bit complicated. For now, I am a friend. I’m talking in your head because I’ve bonded with you – I guess you could call me that golden coloured goop you found earlier today.*

The goop? I’m talking to the goop? How is that possible? I asked myself.

*Just a warning. I can hear your thoughts, Jason. I’m bonded with you, permanently – and in case you’re wondering I’m also using some of my abilities to keep you from panicking too much right now. I won’t hurt you, but I can’t leave you either.*

“What are you?” I asked quietly. “Are you an alien?”

*Yes, although I have spent many years here on Midgard in the past. I have been to your world before, Jason – just not for many hundreds of years. I am a symbiote – I need a host in which to live, or I will perish. While in a host, I can make them stronger, faster, tougher, and resistant to damage. I can bestow other powers as well, if I see fit, and extend their lifespan significantly. In return I have a physical body, and can interact with other sentients. It’s a fair trade.*

“Why did you pick me as your host?”

*I didn’t have a choice, Jason. I was wounded escaping from the Krenlari cruiser I was being held prisoner on. If I didn’t bond with you, I would have died... and I couldn’t allow that. I’m sorry.*

“I can understand not wanting to die. Am I sick? All my hair fell out... Is something wrong with me?”

*No, Jason. It’s a side effect of bonding with me. There will be other minor physical changes before this ends, but you will still be recognizable as you. Your body is adapting to be my host. Your tissues are getting denser and stronger, and your senses more accurate. You’ll find you run, swim and jump faster and farther than most humans. You’ll heal quicker too, and be very resistant to disease and aging – although poison and drink can still affect you, I can filter out most of the worst effects, so at least hangovers will be few and far between. You might need less sleep too, at least once the changes are over.*

“That sounds like a pretty good deal. Is there a catch?”

*Yes. But for now, eat your dinner. We could both use the strength. Part of your hunger is your body craving calories to aid in the bonding. Eat as much as you can, or we will grow weak and sick. The sooner we complete the bonding, the sooner I can tell you about what comes next.*

“And... And you’re not going to tell me until we finish bonding?”

*Yes.*

“So what do I call you?” I asked. “I’d rather not call you ‘voice’ or ‘goop.’”

*Siri. Call me Siri.*

“Okay, Siri it is. I’m Jason.”

*I know. I can hear your thoughts, Jason. When we are fully bonded, I will experience all the physical sensations that you experience – and we may end up feeling each others thoughts and emotions at certain times. It depends on the strength of our bond.*

“All of them?” I asked with some apprehension.

*Yes. Although if you are wounded I can dull the feel of the pain to almost nil, I still feel it. I’ll feel everything you do, Jason. Good or bad.*

God that’s embarrassing. I thought.

*Try not to worry about it too much. It’ll be fine.*

Gah! She’s hearing me think again... Damnit! Will I not ever be alone in my head again?

*If you want, I can leave you for a while, Jason. Give you some privacy and not intrude. You have but to ask. One benefit of our bond is that neither of us will truly ever be alone ever again, unless we wish to be. Sometimes that is a good thing – but not always. Any time you need privacy, just ask, and if I can accommodate you, I will.*

Wow. I have a symbiote inside me. With powers. What happens now?

*I suggest you eat your omelette before it gets too cold.*

Right. Dinner. “Thanks, Siri. I’ll eat and then maybe you can explain some more?”

*If I can, after dinner. Eat, or we will be very weak by dawn.*

“Yes Ma’am. Just one more question. Why can’t we have sriracha?”

*Umm... How do you feel about uncontrollable explosive diarrhea?*

“Gotcha. No more sriracha. Shit.*

*It’s only until we’re finished bonding, Jason. Not forever.*

“Okay.” I did as I was told, and ate my dinner. It was a struggle to not rush and scarf it down – I really wanted to know more about Siri and where she came from, but I also wanted to taste my handiwork. I considered myself a pretty good cook, and actually enjoyed tasting the food I ate. I settled down to eat. Answers would come later.