Symby (2 page)

Jody turned around. He could feel the weight of the books as they landed at the bottom of the backpack. "What's your name?" he asked.

"Melissa Bryant," she answered. "People at my old school called me Missy."

"Do you like to be called Missy?" asked Jody.

"Yeah, I guess. It's better than Melissa."

"Well, thanks for the help, Missy. Really nice meeting you, too."

"Nice meeting you too. Hey, if we meet again, I could say hello to you if I knew your name, too."

Jody's face flushed bright red. "Oh, yeah, my bad. I'm Jody Mattlin. We'd better get to class before the hall monitors come out, or we'll end up in detention."

"Ooh, detention, so scary," said Missy.

Jody wanted desperately to arrange another meeting with her, but he was too shy to ask her. "Okay, well, see you around," was the best he could do.

"See you around," she replied, looking just a bit disappointed. She turned away from him, and began walking up the hallway. Jody's class was in the opposite direction and he would need to take the elevator. He thought about asking her to wait up anyway, risking detention, but that would mean excessive waiting on her part. Dejected, he turned his attention to getting to his class.

Jody found it hard to concentrate on his morning classes. He kept thinking about Missy. She had genuinely seemed interested in meeting him again. He tried to contain his excitement, telling himself that once she found friends at the school, she'd ignore him like all of the other girls. He couldn't help thinking that maybe Missy was different, though. She was from California. People were cooler there, he was sure of it. He wondered how many California girls wore kerchiefs like she did. "Probably a new trend," he thought.

Even with the kerchief concealing her hair, there was no doubt in Jody's mind that she was beautiful. Her wide, emerald eyes contrasted with translucent skin to give her a delicate, almost ethereal look. Jody realized, to his dismay, that he was already smitten.

When the lunch bell rang, Jody hurried down to the cafeteria. He sat alone, as always, eating the contents of the bag lunch his mother had made him. It was difficult enough for him to make it through a school day without having to stand in the cafeteria line. He scanned the cafeteria, hoping to see her again. He would wave to her and motion her over if he did. Minutes passed, and Jody despaired. There was no sign of her. After half an hour, the bell rang for the next class, and Jody trudged out.

His next class was biology, his favorite. His teacher, Mr. Belden, had a knack for making a boring subject interesting. He knew how to relate abstract concepts to real life. DNA was not just the building block of life in Belden's class, it was the building block of each and every student's life. Jody arrived well before the bell rang, and entered an almost empty classroom. Mr. Belden was there, of course, reviewing his lecture notes. Just one other student was present, sitting in the last row at the back of the classroom. Jody's heart leapt. He couldn't believe his good fortune. It was Missy. She saw him enter and brightened.

"Hi again, Jody," she said. "Short time, no see."

"Hi Missy," responded Jody. This was the critical moment, and Jody was determined not to blow it. "Any vacancies back there?"

Missy laughed, and Jody was thrilled. "As you can see, they're all taken, but I told the guy next to me to get lost because you were coming."

It was Jody's turn to laugh. He walked to the back of the room, trying mightily to stay as coordinated as possible. There were still a few minutes left before class started, and the two of them began an animated conversation as the classroom filled. Mr. Belden called the class to order and silence gradually descended. As much as he liked Mr. Belden's lectures, Jody was disappointed that he couldn't continue the conversation. On the plus side, though, he had the distinct impression that Missy felt the same way.

Mr. Belden was tall, bony and angular. He wore wire rimmed glasses perched on a hawk nose. His thin hair had receded back to the middle of his head, giving him the look of a man whose brain had enlarged to the point of expanding his cranium. He looked more like a college professor than a high school teacher, and for good reason. Jody had heard that he had actually been a microbiology research professor at a major university before he came to their school. Rumor had it that he had quit when the school refused to fund one of his research projects.

Mr. Belden cleared his throat.

"Welcome once again, class, to the fascinating world of biology." He waited for the laughter to subside. He knew well that not everyone was as enthralled with biology concepts as Jody and a few other students were. Undeterred, Mr. Belden continued. "Today's topic is symbiosis. Symbiosis has to do with close relationships between organisms. There are several categories of symbiotic relationships. We'll be exploring and discussing all of them today."

Most of the class groaned, but Jody stayed attentive.

"As I mentioned, symbiosis is a close ecological relationship between individuals of two or more different species. Sometimes the symbiotic relationship benefits both species, sometimes one species benefits at the other's expense, and in other cases neither species benefits. Can anyone give me an example of a symbiotic relationship that benefits both species?"

Jody raised his hand, but Mr. Belden unwisely chose Marisa instead.

"John Stokes and Maryanne Halpern?" she offered. The class broke up into laughter. John and Maryanne had been going steady since sixth grade. Mr. Belden waited for the laughter to subside.

"Marisa, you would be right if John and Maryanne were different species. They are different sexes, but not species." The class tittered when Mr. Belden used the word "sex."

"Anybody else?" asked Mr. Belden. "Jody?"

Jody answered "Honey bees and flowers?"

"Excellent example, Jody. The flower is dependent on the honey bee to transfer its genetic material from one flower to another, thus allowing the flower to reproduce. The process is called pollination, and many flowers would not be able to survive without the intervention of the bees."

During the next forty-five minutes, Mr. Belden covered the three different types of symbiosis. Jody and Missy were particularly fascinated by the class's discussion of "parasitic" organisms versus "mutualistic" organisms. Parasites were organisms that harmed their hosts. Viruses were prime examples. Mr. Belden pointed out that the reason that viruses like ebola rarely managed to kill off entire species was because they were self-limiting. The more hosts they killed, the more difficult it was for them to find new homes. Eventually, the mechanisms they were using to spread themselves around weren't sufficient to carry them to every potential new host. If some of the hosts survived the initial onslaught of the parasite, they might also develop immunities.

Unlike parasites, mutualistic organisms benefitted both the host and carrier. Mr. Belden used the relationship between dogs and humans as an example of mutualistic organisms. Humans trained dogs to hunt and perform other tasks for them. In return, humans provided food and shelter for dogs. Consequently both species benefitted. Mr. Belden asked the class to consider which type of relationship was the better one from an evolutionary standpoint. The obvious answer, and the one that Belden agreed with, was that mutualism was a far more efficient way for species to interact.

The most interesting part of the discussion occurred near the end of class. Mr. Belden stated that it was his personal belief that Darwin's theory of evolution was missing a crucial component, that of symbiosis. Darwin's theory posited that evolution was driven by competition alone, but Mr. Belden believed that evolution was driven as much by interaction and cooperation between species as it was by competition. Despite the distraction of the girl seated next to him, Jody was captivated.

The class flooded out when the bell rang, all but two students. Jody and Missy stayed behind. They talked enthusiastically about what they had just learned, and then moved on to other subjects. Jody thought he could detect a slight, bemused smile on Mr. Belden's face. Jody's mind raced ahead of the conversation, frantically trying to figure out how to continue connecting to his newfound friend. Missy beat him to the punch.

"Hey, I'm on BFF, are you?" she asked.

"No, I'm still on Facebook," Jody reluctantly admitted.

"Ewww, Facebook, that's so last decade," she said. BFF.com was the latest social media craze. As Facebook had done to MySpace, and MySpace to Friendster, BFF had pushed Facebook almost off the web.

"Yeah, I know," Jody conceded. "I just haven't gotten around to getting off." The truth was that up until now, there hadn't been a reason for him to sign off from Facebook. Facebook was about "friending," and Jody's supply of friends was limited.

"Well, I'm on it," said Missy. "Why don't you sign up tonight, and we can talk to each other?"

Jody's heart fluttered. She was inviting him?! He had assumed it would have to be the other way around. He tried hard not to convey how excited he was, to stay "cool."

"Yeah, O.K., I've been meaning to do it anyway," he answered.

"Cool," said Missy. "I'll be on at 8:00. Let's viddy, if you can make it."

Jody had no idea how BFF's viddying worked, but he wasn't about to miss this opportunity.

"Cool, so we'll talk tonight. See you at eight," he said.

Missy stood up and waited patiently for Jody to get out of his chair. To his horror, she extended her hand to help him. She obviously knew how messed up he really was. He tried to avoid taking her hand, but she grabbed his hand and pulled ever so slightly, just enough to ease his exit from the chair. When he was up, he tried to withdraw his hand from hers, but she held on.

"Just because I'm holding your hand doesn't mean we're going together or anything, so don't get ideas," she said in a teasing tone. Mr. Belden looked up and smiled at the two of them.

"I hope you two are aware of the rules against P.D.A. in this school," he warned. "I don't have a problem with it, but you know how some of the other teachers are, so don't let it get out of control." His tone was warm. Missy answered for both of them.

"I already told Jody not to get any ideas, Mr. Belden, but thanks for the warning."

Jody beamed as the two of them walked out of the classroom, still holding hands. He couldn't believe he was holding hands with a girl. She was so cool! He couldn't wait to get home and log on.

Spud was rudely awakened by the loud popping noise outside. The effects of the bourbon hadn't quite worn off, so it took him a while to focus. He rubbed his eyes and rolled onto his side within the confines of the dirty sleeping bag. The air was cold, as it always was at night. His breath wafted into the air in small clouds and hovered three feet above him near the apex of the pup tent. As groggy as he was, he was still capable of recognizing a potential threat when he heard one. Grabbing the thick stick he routinely kept near him as he slept, he unzipped the sleeping bag and crawled towards the tent's triangular exit. He poked his head out of the tent and scanned his camp site. The place was a mess, there was no denying that. Tin cans, bottles, paper goods and plastic bags were strewn haphazardly around the site. Almost every day, Spud made plans to clean the place up, but his plans were never implemented after his first few swigs in the mornings.

The biggest threat to Spud's continued existence came from people who enjoyed taunting and occasionally beating people who had come down a few notches in their fortunes, as Spud had. He had vowed never to take another beating. He tensed for a fight, gripping his makeshift club tightly. To his immense relief, he saw no one. Bears and other wild animals were also dangers to people in Spud's situation, threats to both his food supply and his life. Once again, his fears were allayed. As far as he could tell, nothing was moving. So what had caused the noise?

Even with the remaining bourbon in his system, Spud knew that the darkness might be concealing a potential menace. Fighting the urge to crawl back into his sleeping bag, he steeled himself to examine his humble habitat more thoroughly. A few embers still flickered from the fire, casting a bit of light. This was fortunate, as Spud had no idea where he had put his flashlight, nor whether it had working batteries in it. Warily, he crawled out of the tent and got to his feet unsteadily. His attention was immediately drawn to his water pot, which hung from a metal rod suspended above the fire. The pot was glowing, emitting an eerie, greenish hue. As the embers reflected onto the pot, Spud could also see a large blister on the bottom of the pot.

"What the hell?!" exclaimed Spud. "I just found that damned pot!"

His annoyance at the damage to his pot overrode his sense of caution. He strode to the pot and peered into it. There was still some water in the pot and Spud calmed a bit when he realized that his pot was damaged, but still intact. The source of the greenish glow was obvious. Several tiny rock fragments rested at the bottom of the pot, each of them shining with swirls of green. Even in his slightly inebriated state, Spud could tell that the pieces would fit together to form a whole pebble. He was tempted to pick up the beautiful baubles, but quickly rejected the idea.

"Not gonna be part of the blob," he thought. He remembered watching the old science fiction movie from the fifties with Steve McQueen. A meteorite landed on earth, and the old man who discovered it was absorbed and ingested by the gigantic, alien amoeba. Spud wanted no part of that nasty fate. To make a noise as loud as the one that had awakened him, he reasoned, the pebble must have been traveling really, really fast. To land squarely in his pot, the pebble must have come from the sky, perhaps even from outer space.

"Yeah, right, outer space," Spud chortled. He gave himself a tough evaluation with his next thought. "You're a loon, a drunken fool. There ain't no such thing as alien monsters."

Even so, Spud decided against touching the glowing shards. "Better to be safe than sorry," he thought. The sadness began to cast its pall over him as he considered whether saving his worthless life really mattered. Recalling that there were still a few swigs left in the bottle of bourbon, he trudged back to his tent, downed the remainder of the bottle and succumbed to its effects.

As morning broke, the tent began to warm and fill with hazy light. Spud gradually regained consciousness. His morose state resumed. He had no desire to face another day of the struggle to survive. This day would almost certainly be like all the others. He would begin the day with resolve. Last night was the last night, he would declare. Today would be liquor free, no doubt about it. He would find a way to get his life back on track and begin the long climb upwards. Shortly after he made his resolutions, though, the hangover would kick in, the urges would begin, and the hunt for more booze would be on.

Spud stroked his beard and rubbed his encrusted eyes. He stared at the ceiling of the tent. At least there would be sun today. He waited for the inevitable pounding to begin within his skull, dreading its inception. Though the sun was out, it was still cold. He hated having to begin every day by exposing himself to the cold to pee. Sure enough, he could feel the pressure in his bladder building.

"Aw, Jeez! Son of a bitch!" he exclaimed, as he felt wetness spread in the area of his groin. He had pissed himself again. Pissing himself was more than embarrassing and humiliating. It meant that he would have to use most of his limited funds at a laundromat or face the prospect of sleeping in a urine soaked sleeping bag. He raged at his lack of self-control for a while, until it occurred to him that if he had pissed himself, then why did he still have to pee? And why did he feel an unfamiliar pulse down there? Terror took hold as he frantically unzipped the sleeping bag and pulled his jeans down. As he had suspected, his groin was wet with clear, warm liquid. That was not the worst of it, though. A tiny, furry, round creature was attached to him down there, clearly the source of both the liquid and the pulsing. His eyes grew wide in fear.

"Christ almighty, get the hell out of there!" he cried. He pulled at the little creature, and finally pried it off. He threw it outside the tent, watching it form into a tiny ball as it flew, obviously trying to protect itself. Spud examined his groin. Aside from the liquid and a small round mark where the creature had attached itself, there didn't seem to be any real damage.

"What the hell is that thing?" he thought. He had never seen anything like it in the woods before. He remembered the noise and the green glowing rocks in his water pot from the night before. He pulled his jeans back up and crawled out of the tent. He scanned the immediate vicinity of the tent, looking for the creature and intending to stomp on it, but the little fur ball had vanished.

"Good riddance," he thought.

He walked over to his water pot. All of the water had been drained, though a finger scan of the bubble on the bottom of the pot revealed that the pot had not been pierced. The green rock fragments were still glowing. As far as Spud could tell, nothing else in his personal garbage dump had changed. The pressure in his bladder had now reached the critical point. Spud moved from the small clearing containing his tent and his few possessions and peed against a tree. As he waited for the inevitable hangover to begin, he brightened when he remembered that he still had half a bottle of tequila squirreled away amidst his stash in the tent. Tequila wasn't his favorite, but it would help slay the demons, at least for today. As for his sleeping bag, cleaning it would not be necessary, as the tiny amount of liquid the creature had extruded had been absorbed into his skin.

Returning to his private clearing, Spud examined his dinner pot from the night before, hoping that there were enough beans remaining for a cold breakfast. To his surprise, there was nothing left in the pot.

"Coulda sworn I left some in there," he puzzled. He was hungry, and now he had no choice but to open a new can. The sun warmed him as he ate, but the fear in the pit of his stomach controlled him as he awaited the day's hangover. How long would it be before he pulled that bottle of tequila out?

After eating half of the cold can of beans, Spud placed the remainder of the can onto one of the large rocks that comprised his makeshift fireplace. He still felt fine. His energy level rose.

"Make hay while the sun shines," he thought. Perhaps he could get some gathering done before his daily dose of depression forced him to down the tequila. He grabbed one of the large plastic bags strewn about the camp site and a small jug of water. He walked a few hundred yards through the woods to the highway. On most days, the overwhelming urge for liquor forced a quick end to the drudgery of picking up empty bottles and cans. Today, though, he went at it for hours. His energy level seemed to rise with each passing minute and his head never hurt.

"Dude, you are really getting it done today," he congratulated himself. After the first hour, he began singing old rock tunes, and he complimented himself again for remembering most of the lyrics. When he finally returned to his camp, the bag was completely full. He estimated that his labor had yielded at least twenty dollars in deposit returns, enough for three bottles of the cheap stuff or two bottles of the better stuff. He was ecstatic.

He looked around at his repugnant environment. As tired as he was, it was time to clean up. He spent the next several hours collecting the rubbish generated by years of encampment. The encrusted bottles and cans were placed into the small, crinkled bags. The small bags were deposited into the larger plastic bags, until all that remained were a few large bags. Tomorrow, he promised himself, he would lug these bags to town and put them in dumpsters, where they belonged.

He was ravenous. He knew he would need more than just the remainder of the can of beans from the morning to stanch his appetite, but that would at least be a good start. He walked to the fireplace and picked up the can.

"Goddamn you!" he yelled. The furry little creature was in the can. Furious, he yanked the creature out of the can and threw it to the ground.

"You shouldn't have come back. Now you're gonna get what you deserve!" cried Spud, raising his boot above the tiny, spherical fur ball. The creature balled itself up, apparently aware that it was threatened. A thought struck Spud just before his foot came down. He had just had an extraordinary day. No hangover. No depression. No booze. Twenty dollars. Was there a connection between this little ball of fur and his outstanding day? He stopped his boot in mid-air and placed it gently back down on the ground. He peered at the creature and spoke to it.

"You know, for an alien, you're kind of a cute little thing," he said. "Did you have something to do with my big day?" The little creature remained tight in its ball, but Spud could clearly see that it was vibrating slightly.

"You're shaking, aren't you?" asked Spud. He expected no reply, nor did he receive one. He suddenly felt sorry for the tiny, helpless little creature.

"Well, I'm sorry if you're sorry," he said, trying to reassure the poor thing. "But you can't go around peeing on people and expecting them to like you. What do you say we bury the hatchet?" The creature continued vibrating.

Spud finally bent down and picked up the pulsating ball of fur. Balled up and vibrating in the palm of his hand, it didn't seem like much of a threat any more.

"So you like beans?" he asked. "Go ahead, have some." He placed the little thing back on the ground, picked up the can and emptied some of the beans onto the ground next to the creature. He watched in fascination as the creature arched its tiny body and propelled itself towards the beans, moving much like an inchworm would. Positioning itself over the beans, Spud could clearly see that it was ingesting a smattering of the beans.

"So how big are you gonna get?" asked Spud. "If you start growing like the blob, that'll be the end of you, you know. I'll take you out so fast you won't even know what hit you."

While the creature fed, Spud opened another can for himself. He wasn't going to share a meal with the critter. Who knew what diseases it might have brought? He placed some kindling into the fireplace and lit it. The creature stopped eating almost immediately as the fire rose, and began inching towards Spud.

"Scared again, eh?" said Spud. "For an alien, you sure ain't got much in the way of guts." He picked up the creature and stroked it.

"How did you know where I was when you don't have eyes?" he asked. No answer, none expected. He placed the little creature on his shoulder. The creature vibrated, and used its little suction cup to attach itself to Spud's shoulder once again. The suction was powerful enough to keep the creature from falling, even through Spud's heavy shirt.

As Spud cooked the beans over the fire in his one remaining clean pot, he began to wonder whether he had made the right decision in befriending the little creature. How could he be sure that this thing was not going to hurt him? When he really thought about it, he was probably mistaken in his theory that this was an alien life form. The mere fact that the creature had appeared just after a rock shattered in his water pot did not mean that the creature was alien. Given his extremely limited knowledge of biology, it was more likely that the creature was a species that he simply had not encountered before. In any event, he was beginning to enjoy the attention of the little creature. The little suction cup or mouth or whatever it was attached to his shoulder was beginning to feel a bit like a kiss. The creature's vibrations felt like a cat's purr. Was he crazy, or was the creature generating something akin to love?

As he ate his warmed can of beans, Spud turned his thoughts to the half -bottle of tequila salted away in his backpack in the tent. The tequila was a gift from the heavens, magically appearing in a dumpster he had been poring through in search of food on his last trip downtown. As pleased as he was that he had spent an entire day without imbibing, the temptation of the tequila began crowding out everything else in his pickled brain. By the time he finished his beans, he could no longer resist the same urges that he virtually always failed to resist. He headed for the tent.