The Lives of Tao (3 page)

Unable to sustain himself for long without the warm cocoon of a host, Tao struggled to keep his gaseous form together as the winds battered him. His translucent turquoise membrane stretched and expanded as if an irregular beating heart, floating side to side as the heavy oxygen currents pushed and pulled in every direction. He had only minutes before he would succumb to the near freezing temperatures of the planet’s harsh environment. It was a grim reminder of why he was so desperate to return home.

The Genjix would have men down here in moments. Their scanners could track Quasing outside of hosts. Tao surveyed his surroundings. In front of him, Michigan Avenue was relatively still at this hour, save for a few passing cars. Behind him, the ominous structure of the John Hancock Center stretched high up into the sky, eerily black and quiet.

Tao decided to take his chances south and swam along the side of the street. Though time was not on his side and the choices were slim, he was determined to be selective with potential hosts. His first candidate was an old vagrant sleeping on a bus stop bench. Tao swam up and examined him: weak skeletal structure, multiple abrasions over the membrane, uneven shallow breathing. Without another thought, Tao moved on. No use in trapping himself into someone so old and unsuitable. There must be a healthier host more open to influence even at this hour!

He continued south on Michigan Avenue, passed the Water Tower Plaza to Chicago Avenue, turned east at the Museum of Contemporary Art, and studied a stray dog picking through a dumpster in the alley. It was a large mix, possibly mastiff and pit bull with strong jaws, powerful legs, and an intelligent alertness to his eyes. Tao guessed it was no older than three or four. He considered the animal a moment before moving on. It had been centuries since he was desperate enough to occupy an animal host and he wasn’t far enough gone to concede the need yet.

Looking back, he saw a group of four men running toward him in the distance. They had found him! If they got close enough, a gunshot would tear him apart. A Quasing could not outrun a human in their natural state. Hiding was out of the question. The scanners would find him as long as he was within their radius. Tao would have to stay out of sight until he found a suitable candidate. He pressed on.

He doubled back to Michigan Avenue and continued south. A minute later, he found an excellent candidate walking alone on the other side of the street. She was an athletic female, late twenties, a shade under two meters in height, and about fifty kilos. The host was a little old, but at this time of the night, there weren’t going to be many younger. Tao made his move and swam as fast as he could toward the candidate. Careful to avoid oncoming traffic, Tao crossed the street, staying low to the pavement to avoid the stronger air currents.

The young woman had stopped and was standing on the side of the road, looking in both directions. A car sped by in front of him, creating a breeze that sucked him off his course. He lost precious seconds struggling to regain control. Just as he reached her and was about to inhabit the new host, she hailed a cab, got in, and rode off.

No! Tao brushed the setback aside and kept moving, intent on surviving the night. His membrane was starting to crack from the cold, and like a human drowning in the ocean, he was wearing down. He reached Ontario Street and moved west, hoping for signs of life. Several times, he considered heading back for the dog, but knew he would not make it in time. A group of people was on the other side of the street, but traffic was too thick to risk crossing. Even at a slow pace, any impact from a vehicle would finish him in this delicate state.

A loud bang echoed in the distance and the car window near where Tao was floating shattered. Behind him, two more Genjix were taking aim. He didn’t have much time. The Genjix forces were still two hundred meters back, but closing fast. Tao turned the corner and fled down the street. His only option now was to find a host while out of the Genjix agents’ visual range, and then get the host away from this area before they caught him in their surveillance net.

A figure stepped out of a building at the far end of the block and walked toward him. Tao knew this was likely his last chance, so he swam hard toward his target, going against the currents that tossed him like a sailboat in a storm. The cold was overpowering, daggers of pain shooting throughout his membrane. If he was a human, screams would not express the agony he was experiencing, being crushed and ripped apart simultaneously from inside out. It would be so easy to let go, to just let his core dissipate. It would be final rest, a well-deserved one.

Tao lost consciousness, drifting off into the blackness, and for a moment, he felt a sensation of numbness so sweet that it overwhelmed him. If this serenity really was the end, maybe there was nothing to dying after all. The Quasing gave little thought to death, and Tao cared even less than most. But now, he enveloped himself in this beautiful numbness that was the end of his existence. If he had known previously that the end was so beautiful...

But that would mean the Prophus lost.

And the Genjix won.

Tao would die. Edward would die. Edward was dead. And the Genjix would succeed. The memories of every one of his brethren fallen to the Genjix flashed through his mind. He thought of the consequences if the Genjix won. Earth, a planet and her inhabitants he had grown to cherish, would lay in ruin in their wake. His work was unfinished. With a silent howl, Tao snapped back into consciousness and looked at the figure just off to the side, about to get into a car. He pushed forward harder than he ever pushed before. There was too much at stake to give in. Tao was almost upon the person now and prepared to transition into the new host’s body. Then the new host got into a car and slammed the door shut.

Not again. It was over. There was no one else around, and he hadn’t the strength to go any further. Tao floated outside the car and watched as the driver started the engine. Time had run out and he would die. It seemed unfitting in a way, to end his life with such a small whimper. Suddenly, the door opened and the man leaned out, head bent over the side.

Not believing his good fortune, Tao slid inside and focused on his new host as he prepared to make his move. The portly man was in his early thirties by the looks of the skin pigment, a tad under one hundred twenty kilos, and quite a bit under two meters. He had a stressed skeletal structure and a heart condition, most likely from the excess weight and a very low muscle to fat ratio. He also had an unsafe level of alcohol in his system, enough to impair motor skills. An adventurous or a foolhardy man to be sure. Both were traits Tao could take advantage of.

Now, he regretted ruling out the dog. At least with the animal, he could influence it to take him back to the Prophus. This human would require a bit more work to train and get up to speed. Well, Tao did not have the luxury to second-guess himself. He had to make do with what was in front of him.

He focused once more and made the final push into his new home. The shift into a new host was difficult as always. The skin was the most difficult to absorb through, though not as hard as some of the other creatures he had inhabited. A few, like the dinosaurs with their exterior bone plating, were impossible to push into without finding soft points. Others – like the insects of today – did not have the mass or fluid structure in their bodies to be proper hosts, missing the right mix of enzymes and nucleic acids needed to sustain a Quasing.

After several seconds and a laborious effort, Tao completed the push and was once again encased inside a host. He shuddered in relief as the human’s body protected him from the elements. A few more moments out in the atmosphere and he would have been dead. Tao began to absorb the base chemicals and nutrients from his new host, careful not to take too much in at once, only replenishing just what he needed to survive. It would take time for this new host’s body to adapt to his intrusion.

Roen Tan leaned out the side of the car and took a deep breath. Once he was sure there wasn’t going to be projectile vomiting ruining the faux leather interior, he closed the door and sat back up. The chilly night air was soothing, after spending the past three hours in the cramped basement of the nightclub. This was the last time, he told himself, but that was a lie and he knew it.

Every few weeks, out of boredom and loneliness, Roen would come to this dingy club and spend a miserable night standing in the corner before heading home early. He looked at his watch: 1.30. Well, early was a relative term. Roen sighed. He was out another hundred bucks – thirty to get in, and seventy on drinks for himself and the four girls that ditched him the instant they got them.

Checking his face in the mirror, he noticed his bloodshot eyes and puffy cheeks. These late-night outings were a vicious cycle. Roen knew he was drunk, but he’d be damned if he was going to spend another fifteen dollars for a cab. Besides, how would he get his car tomorrow? Spend more money to cab it back? Forget it. What if he got a ticket?

Suddenly, Roen gasped and doubled over, the contents of his stomach crawling up his throat. He threw open the door again and leaned over the edge, pleading with whatever just died in his belly to just get out and end his misery. Funny, he didn’t think he’d drunk that much. Maybe his dinner didn’t agree with him. Then, as if on command, all the contents in his stomach spilled out of his mouth, in one big disgusting mess, all over the sidewalk.

“Frozen pizza was a bad idea,” he grumbled, grimacing in pain. His head pounding and his stomach unsettled, Roen thought he would lose his dinner a few more times. After several seconds, the nausea dissipated and he began to feel better. He leaned back into his car and pulled out of the parking spot, nearly hitting a group of four men wearing what looked like Ghostbuster proton packs sprinting across the street.

Roen decided to not yell at them to be careful and continued on his way. The road blurred a little as he drove. Fortunately, traffic was light and the drive to his apartment – just outside the downtown area – was short. Roen smacked his lips and made a face at the bile still in his mouth. He reached his garage without incident, parked his car, and stumbled toward the elevator. Once the metal doors closed, the nausea kicked in again. Roen focused his attention on the digital display on the wall.

“Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen... a rat cage with a view at least.” He scowled, stepping out onto the twentieth floor. He dragged his feet down the hall and wrestled the keys out of his pocket, fiddling a bit with the key until the lock finally opened. Bumping into each wall, he kicked off his shoes and staggered in, not minding the fresh scuff marks on the walls.

Feeling the room spin, Roen made his way into the kitchen for a glass of water. He took a few deep gulps and looked down at the empty bowls on the floor. When was the last time he fed the cat? Poor guy must be starving. Roen filled the bowls with enough food and water to last another week.

He was about to leave when he saw a week-old bag of chips lying opened on the counter. Maybe some salt and carbs would help settle his upset stomach. He grabbed the bag and popped a handful of chips into his mouth. On the way back to his room, he noticed the lights on in the second bedroom. His roommate Antonio must be online again. Roen walked in and leaned over his best friend’s shoulder. “The girl at Yale or the hot single mom in California?” he asked.

“Both, and one of the nurses at the cardio ward.” Antonio leaned back and winked. “What can I say, once you get an MD attached to your name, they all come out of the woodwork.”

Roen shook his head. “Already? Two days in residency and you’re already milking it. You’re a dog, bro.”

Antonio shrugged. “That’s Dr Dog to you, good sir. To be honest, I don’t like the title. It brings out the wrong sort of interest from girls. I’m going to start telling them I’m a chef instead.”

Roen shook his fist in the air. “Oh, why didn’t my counselor tell me that doctors get all the women? Damn you, career counselor! Actually, I wish you were a chef. Then I’d get something out of this relationship.”

“You don’t need a culinary degree to cook frozen food. How was the club?”

“Same old, same old.”

“You meet anyone?”

Roen sighed and patted Antonio on the back. “Like I said, same old, same old. I’m off to bed. Have fun, virtual Don Juan. Make sure you’re actually talking to women, and not forty year-old perverts.”

“Don Juan, MD.”

Exhausted, Roen walked into his room and closed the door behind him. All he could think about was sleep. He took off his shirt and pants, and tossed them aside, leaving a trail of clothes on the floor. He plopped onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. Antonio talked to more women in one day – staying in his room on the computer – than Roen did all night at a club.

What was Roen doing wrong? And it’s not even like Antonio really tries. Life was so unfair. I shouldn’t have flunked chemistry, he thought, I could have been a doctor. But then he remembered that he didn’t like the sight of blood. With a deep sigh, Roen turned over, and in seconds was snoring up a small storm.

CHAPTER THREE

THE CALL

Tao watched with interest as his new host milled about in his drunken state. After living through hundreds of lives, he had become quite adept at reading humans. He studied Roen’s mannerisms and behaviors, his driving habits, the tidiness of the bedroom, and his interaction with his roommate. He even made a mental note that Roen forgot to brush his teeth.