The colony is important. That is simply how it is.
Dig, dig, dig. Protect when it is needed, expand when it is not. This is life. Dig, eat, dig, sleep, dig, eat, dig…
Pain. Pain in belly. Badness. Walking is hard. Digging is hard. It is not time to rest, but…
Death. Cannot move. Exit the host. Need new host. Feel new host. Enter, subsume. The new host also knows the colony is important. That is simply how it is.
Yet the colony is dying. The new host knows this as well. Fear. The colony must not die. The colony is important. That is simply how it is.
Death where? It is unfelt, unheard. Yet this host, too, is dying. Danger. Danger! Flee!
Running and running and running is all there is. Through the tunnels, to safety. The colony dies all around. No! Anguish beyond anguish. Fear beyond fear. Run. Run! Death in the tunnels. Flee the tunnels! Pain flows. Death, again. Exit the host. Need new host.
Need new host.
Regret. Lament. The colony has died. The colony must not die. The colony is important. That is simply how it is. The colony is important. That is simply how it is. The colony is…
The colony…
Colony?
Beacons of strength, felt. Desire. Move, though no longer run. Flow. Catch. The beacons of strength must be hunted, subsumed. That is simply how it is. Another follows. Not a host. Ignore.
The beacons of strength move. They must be avoided when they move. Danger. That is simply how it is. Stalk. Follow at distance. Wait. They move no longer. Wait. Wait.
Strike.
Subsume.
The host is asleep. Rest is good. Rest...
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Touch. Wakefulness.
“Hey,” a voice says. One of the host’s kind.
Fear. Confusion. Host is… different. The colony is impor… no. Respond. The host knows to respond to noise. Do what the host would do. That is simply how it is.
“What do you want?” Good. Sound is correct.
“Are you pregnant?” the other of the host’s kind says.
Confusion. Understanding, yet not complete. Pregnant. Holding child within. False. Indignance.
“What the fuck are you on about?” is the correct noise to be made. Do what the host would do. That is simply how it is.
“Pregnant,” the other of the host’s kind speaks. The ally. The annoyance. The eccentric. The fearsome. The host knows all of these things. “Yes or no?”
“No!” is the correct thing to say. Do what the host would do. That is simply how it is.
“Okay, then I think you have a parasite inside you.”
Parasite. That which takes without giving. The host feels fear. The host knows what to do: scan for the parasite, remove it. The host knows I am the parasite.
I am… the parasite. That’s bad, right? Agh, but there are so many things! The host knows so much! Memories, understandings, emotions, feelings, all flowing into me at once! I’m not of the colony anymore. I’m the colony’s… killer? Rage flows through me. Fury! Vengeance! How could I be the colony’s killer? The colony was important! That is simply how it…
No. That’s… not how it is. I think. I think? The colony needed to die? The colony was fun to kill.
W-wait, I have to do what the host would do! Calm down, take deep breaths. Knowledge of the structure of reality enters my mind, the physical makeup of living things, and the principles of magical power that control them. I move my fingers, exactly like the host knows how. I cast the spell, letting the knowledge it interprets enter my mind. Everything is normal, barring the big glob of slime in my neck. That’s the parasite, and it must be removed and killed immediately so this nightmare can end. That is what the host would do. Do what the host would do. That’s simply how it...
No, wait! That’s me! I’m the parasite! Why would I do what the host would do if it kills me? That’s wrong. I know that’s wrong. I know lots of things. I’m…
...Still talking to a member of the host’s species which is hostile to me, capable of detecting me, and loyal to the host. Think. Try not to panic. Should I kill them? No, I don’t want to. Subsume them instead? Then this host, which knows I exist and is also capable of detecting me, would be free. Lie?
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Lying works.
“I don’t detect anything.”
“Well, I still do,” the other member of the host’s species says. A human. That’s what I am now. “There's one inside Remus, too, and when we encountered something that felt like it before, he couldn't even see it in broad daylight. It was this little slime thing, translucent, about as big as my fist. Would being a slime change the kind of spell you need to detect it?”
Oh, is that what I am? Yes, it is. I know that now. I also know Remus is the one who’s really, really powerful. Wait, he’s stronger than my body! Damn, I can’t help but feel a bit of jealousy for whoever got him. Jealousy. That’s new. I dislike the idea of sharing. Now is not the time for that, though. I need to figure out how to stay alive.
“No... it wouldn't," I insist. "You're positive something is inside me? Even though I can't detect it at all?"
Please, please, please believe me! There’s nothing!
"One-hundred percent, yeah. They're the same things I felt inside burrow hounds."
Well, shit. Lying doesn’t work at all. Good to know. But now what? I flip through some of my host’s recent memories, trying to decide what to do.
Damnit, Vita! My host tries to shriek. It’s not me! It’s lying to you! You fucking idiot! Help me! VITA!
Ah, that other human’s name is Vita. Good to know. My host seems terrified, which I don’t like. Hopefully she’ll get over it. I think my other hosts got used to it? They were… very different, though. Very different.
I should probably also pretend like I’m freaked out, so no one thinks anything is wrong. ...Hmm, that’s quite odd. Pretending like something is wrong to make people think nothing is wrong. But it makes sense. So many things are starting to make sense, all of a sudden.
“Is it just Remus and I?” I ask. “There aren’t any others?”
“As far as I can tell, yeah,” Vita confirms.
“Vita’s never been wrong so far!” the large one says. Bently. "You might be really sick, Penelope!"
I protest a little, but it doesn’t stop them from waking the rest of their team. No… my team. I have to act like they are my team now, if I want to survive. The thought of it is absolutely terrifying. I am not, cannot just be part of the colony anymore. The colony had never cared I was there, but these ones? They will kill me if they know.
They talk to Remus, asking his advice. Even though the one called Vita knows we are here, she thankfully does not know what we are. Acting like my host is instinct to me, and I can see my brethren in Remus going through the same series of thoughts that I had. I’m surprised he does not kill them, as my host knows he can. It’s a relief to me that I did not expect. Even if I have to hide, I don’t want my team, my new colony, to die. Perhaps he feels the same.
After their talks and considerations, they decide to sleep. I try to sleep, but my host screams inside me, begging and pleading her allies for assistance. She tries to unleash plagues, rot me from within, tear me apart with torrents of magic, but she is impotent while I am in control. She sees what I see, feels what I feel, hears what I hear, but she can do nothing. Yet I feel her agony as my own. I am aware of it at every moment, but I cannot voice or show it. I can only lie in silence, wishing her mind will tire while my heart beats like a storm. I cannot rest. Even if she had been silent, I know too well that her allies would wish just as strongly for my death if they knew. I am not safe. I will never be safe again. Should I abandon this host and flee? Yet if I stop being my host, what will I be? I like my host. She is like nothing I have ever known. I hope I can talk to her later. She is strong, intelligent, and wise.
I’m glad I get to be her now. Penelope. That is my name.
Eventually, the one called Vita approaches me. Can she tell I am not asleep? Is that odd? I resolve to continue pretending.
“Hey,” she whispers to me. “Are you doing okay?”
No, comes the resounding scream of my host. Save me, Vita! I say no such things. I cannot pretend to be a host that wants me dead, not all the time.
Vita begins to talk despite my silence, telling a story of other parasites. I listen intently. It is a sad story, a story of betrayal and death. I find it fascinating, but it only brings my host more distress. More and more her fear builds, and soon her anguish compounds beyond what I can handle.
"Okay, okay, stop!" I hiss, quickly thinking of an excuse for my reaction. "I'm sorry I slapped you. Okay? Is that what you want to hear?"
"No, but thank you for apologizing. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I could tell you weren't really sleeping."
She cares for me. That makes me happy, even if she thinks I’m someone else.
"I am, by all methods I'm aware of, completely fine," I whisper back.
"But...?" she prompts.
Ah, she saw through me once again. I want to tell her. I cannot give anything away, but I want to tell her.
"But I'm terrified," I admit. "I'm clearly in danger, I don't know how to handle it, and I don't want to die."
"Well... I guess I should say, then,” she answers. “You pretty much already know, but I'd like you to keep it secret."
Then she tells me. She tells me with kindly words how she can so easily pluck the life from my body. How she will happily do so for my host. How all I have to do is ask to die, and it will be done.
I tell her no. I come up with as many reasons as I can why my host might not wish for my end. I tell them all in a panic, acting much less afraid than I feel. This girl who sees me, who holds my life in her hands, she is a nightmare. Inside, my host laughs. She sneers and taunts, gleefully anticipating my death. Imagining it. Relishing it. She hopes for my suffering. She begs for it. With those wishes in my thoughts, we finally drift to sleep.
Once I wake, days of travel in the forest begin for me. I draw on my host’s experiences, mimicking what she does to help her team. She’s curious. Experimental. She likes trying new things even when she knows older things will work. Her team does not know this, though. She hides these wonderful things, fearing others will not understand. I want to tell them… but I fear acting differently from my host will bring me death. I take the time granted to us to learn more of my host, to delve her memories and immerse myself in her oldest feelings. The more her memories become my own, the easier it is to be her. I feel what she feels. I like what she likes. I want what she wants. I hate what she hates.
She hates me. I am Penelope, and Penelope screams inside me.