The world seemed to be getting farther and farther away. A stretcher appeared and Mike was hoisted into it. The EMT walked next to the gurney as it was wheeled over to the ambulance.
"Why...won’t you...talk to me?" Mike said slowly, as the world became fuzzier and fuzzier.
The EMT glanced over at him and mumbled "Shut up, puppet." Then a rushing sound filled Mike's ears and he went away for a timeless time.
* * *
When Mike awoke, the first thing he noticed was the smell from the doctor leaning over him. He felt distant and fuzzy, like his head was full of cotton. Mike looked at the doctor and said "hello."
"Good morning Mr. Smith. How are you feeling today?"
"Not bad all things considered." Mike reached a hand around to scratch his back. It was only after he had returned that he noticed that his Other was missing.
He looked around for a second and then said to the doctor: "Where is it?"
"Where is what?"
"My...Other...you know."
"What are you talking about?"
Mike rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Look, judging by your smell, you haven't taken a shower in a week."
"That's normal for interns."
"OK, score one for you, but I'll bet you $20 that you've got one on your back."
The man stared at Mike for a few seconds. "You've been through a lot of stress lately, you must not let it upset you."
Mike leaned back and considered the doctor.
"I just want to make sure he's alright."
"You were alone in your car."
Mike looked at the doctor a while longer.
"You're afraid I'm going to tell someone?"
"Tell someone what?"
Mike sighed. "Have it your way then."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Nothing." Mike yawned. "I'm feeling kind of sleepy, is it OK if I take a nap?"
The doctor stared at Mike a little longer, then picked up a chart at the foot of the bed. He scribbled something on it and said "Rest up."
* * *
“Quit giving me the run-around.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Mike was sitting on the other side of Dr. Schwartz’s desk. Schwartz was the doctor who had attended him after the accident.
Mike sighed. In the weeks since the accident, he had slowly started regressing. His confidence was crumbling, he found it difficult to pay attention to work, his life was basically unraveling. He had hoped that things would not come to this, but...
“If you were hiding something, it would be unfortunate if someone were to talk about it.”
Schwartz’s eyes narrowed. He reached under his desk.
Deciding that things were going south Mike broke in: “Have I told you about the new book that I was working on? No? Well, it’s about this invasion that takes place at a hospital. I hope you don’t mind if I based a few characters on the people who work here.”
“That sounds rather far fetched.” Schwartz tapped his fingers on the desk.
“Yeah well, I’ve thought of doing some filming as a kind of promo when I go to my publishers. You’d be surprised how some things can look in the right light. Mind you, most of this stuff was taken after hours - things can look almost incriminating under the right circumstances.”
The door behind Mike opened. A burly man stepped in.
“I don’t think you are going to find a publisher.”
Mike smiled. “Ah, but that’s the beauty of the digital age! You can publish things on your own.”
Schwartz stared at him for a few seconds. The guy behind Mike shifted uncertainly.
Finally Schwartz glanced up at the orderly. “I think I can handle things from here.”
The guy shuffled out.
Schwartz leaned back. “What do you want?” he asked flatly.
“I want my friend back.”
“What?”
“I said I want my friend back.”
“Do you know what you are saying?”
“I take it that most people do not react favorably to the ah...partnership?”
“It’s not a partnership.”
“At least you cleaned yourself up a bit.”
Dr. Schwartz smiled thinly, then got up.
“Come on.” Schwartz opened the door to his office and took a left. Mike followed him.
“How’s the leg and the arm?” Called Schwartz over his shoulder.
“Fine. After a week or two they stopped hurting.”
They came to a stairwell. Schwartz went in and started down to the basement.
“Keeping things under the radar?” asked Mike. Schwartz didn’t answer.
They came to the basement. Schwartz headed down a corridor. After a number of turns they found themselves in the laundry room.
“This is silly.” Mike observed.
They passed into another room. There was a stool with a vision testing gizmo in front of it.
Dr. Schwartz turned to Mike and said “Please sit down, take off your shirt and press your head against the screen. We are going to conduct some visual tests.”
As Mike was taking his shirt off then asked “Do people actually believe that?” Schwartz shrugged.
Mike pressed his face into some sort of ophthalmological gizmo designed to determine what his vision was. There was some movement behind him. Mike had a moment of fear where he thought that they were going to kill him rather than give him a partner, but then he felt the sensation of something cold and slimy being put on his back.
Not you again! The Puppeteer said.
Nice to see you too.
Mike was somewhat surprised that it was the same alien that he had "worn" before. He wondered if perhaps this was some sort of punishment.
I think it is. Said the Puppeteer.
No one asked you.
One immediate effect was all the layers of worry and doubt melted away. Mike was back. Now the hard part.
Mike stood up under the direction of the Other.
“He has no evidence to expose us with. It was all a bluff.”
Schwartz signed. “I thought so. Do you think we should kill him?”
Mike had planned on tricking the Puppeteer into saying something, but before he could so much as think, the other used his voice to say:
“No, I want to study this subject for a while then decide what to do with him.”
“As you wish.”
Mike sent a wave of gratitude to the alien. It wasn't just that he was grateful to be alive, though that didn't hurt, it was also that now Mike wasn't just taking up space. He was living.
* * *
This time around, Mike felt like a wet blanket had been removed from around his shoulders. As the days passed the world around him grew brighter and brighter until the sun blasted into the sky and the ground sang.
He noticed a sinister change in that more and more people had Others on their backs. Unfortunately, such cases showed the same lack of empathy that was all too common with such partnerships: the most obvious was that such people needed to bathe.
One day, a few weeks later, while walking down the street, Mike noticed a familiar face.
"Alice!"
The woman turned quickly around. At first, she seemed panicky. Then she recognized Mike. The look of panic returned.
"Oh hi...erm...uh..."
"Mike" said Mike.
"Right. Oh, look at the time!"
Despite the fact that Mike was taller, he struggled to keep pace with her.
"Mind if I ask you something?"
"Well actually I'm kind of late to this er...ah...meeting..."
"How much of you is still there?"
Alice stopped short; so quickly that Mike had to turn around to see her.
"Want to get some coffee?" Alice asked.
"That depends on who's buying."
Alice sighed.
Very suave. Mike's Puppeteer chime
d in.
Nobody asked you.
"Most days I can't believe this is me, but it's like more me than was there before." They were sitting in a diner near where Mike had run into her. He was trying to explain what life was like for him now that he had his Puppeteer back.
"So how long were you without your...guide?" Alice asked.
"About 2 weeks."
"And how long before you noticed the difference?"
"Almost immediately."
Alice seemed to be considering this. A waitress stopped by their booth.
"I'll take a latte. He's having water." Alice said before Mike could open his mouth.
"Right" said the waitress and walked away. Mike glared at Alice.
"For me, it's been more of an uphill battle." Alice said.
"Most days I'm glad I have it, but there are some times when I wish I were alone again." She continued.
"Did you have problems before the Puppeteer?" Mike asked.
"Like how?"
"Like, you know...erm..." Mike lowered his voice "like depression or something?"
"I was bipolar." Alice said without missing a beat.
"But not any more?"
"Nope, been feeling fine for several months now."
"Interesting."
The waitress came by the table with Alice's coffee. Mike tried to get her attention.
"Actually I'd like to get a..."
At that moment a group of people came in. The waitress turned away.
"And you forgot my water." Mike said in a martyred tone of voice. Alice sipped her coffee.
Better off this way, coffee makes me jittery.
Mike sighed.
"Do you think it's just coincidence or is this something of a pattern?" Mike asked. Alice considered this.
"Have you ever met anyone else who seemed like they were better off with a Puppeteer."
"No, just you."
"I think you would have to try matching someone who already had a problem and then see if they improved." Alice said thoughtfully.
Mike was silent as he thought about this.
"Actually, I know where there are a bunch of people who I could try this with."
Alice looked dubious. "Where's that?"
"At Downtown General Hospital."
Alice actually smiled. "Not a bad idea."
* * *
Mike visited General Hospital once a week. He became familiar with Dr. Schwartz.
“George!” Mike said as he breezed into Schwartz’s office. Dr. Schwartz looked up and frowned.
“Here again?”
“Well, you have to agree that it’s freeing up bed space.”
George looked out the window.
“There are more important people who we need to turn, you know.”
“But these can actually use the help.”
“We’re not here to help them.”
“So what do you plan on doing with your psych ward when you’ve taken complete control?”
George just stared at Mike without any expression.
Personally, I think he's a jerk. Mike's Puppeteer volunteered.
For once we agree on something.
If the alien had a mouth, he would have smirked.
“And you have to admit that at least the ones we turn don’t cause any problems.”
“You don’t help either.”
“Sure we do, all those people would be on the streets causing problems if we didn’t help them.”
George sighed and finally nodded. He got out of his chair and led Mike out the door. George continued down several corridors until they arrived at the psych ward. George nodded at the nurses station.
“Mr. Styles in room 3.”
The two of them walked down another corridor to a non-descript room. With the ritual knock, the two of them entered to find a slumbering man.
“What’s wrong with him?”
“Schizophrenic.”
“Well...we can try.”
Mike sat down on a stool in the middle of the room. He took his shirt off. His back was mirror-like, metallic looking. A drop-like formation appeared on his back and George took it as it became a small sphere.
Walking over to the sleeping man, he placed the sphere on the man’s forehead. The sphere expanded, flowed behind his head and down his back. The man’s eyes opened and he sat up in bed.
He stared at George and Mike for a silent few seconds and then said “Take me to your leader.”
“Well he still has a sense of humor.”
* * *
Over the days since Mike had gotten another Puppeteer, he began to see things in a different light. He noticed that while others who had Puppeteers often times seemed a little off, Mike actually functioned better than the average person.
Mind you, that was just looking at things from the outside.
From the inside looking out it seemed like everything was bathed in light. In the mornings, the sun leaped into the sky. At night the stars and the moon sang. Every sip of water seemed more refreshing and satisfying than it had any other time in life, every meal became a banquet, every breath of air a miracle.
The only fly in the ointment were most of the other “Guided” (as he liked to call them) or the “Enslaved” (as most other people thought of it): those that bore a Puppeteer. People without a Puppeteer were fine - they were interesting, they had hopes and fears, he could talk to them.
The others that bore a Puppeteer were another matter. They were like zombies - set on only one goal: take over the world. Mike personally couldn’t see what the fuss was about.
Then the war kicked into high gear.
About 4 months after Mike had been infected, he noticed that everyone seemed to be hosting a Puppeteer. One thing that made it pretty obvious was the way that they tended to walk around in huge blocks of people. Mike tried talking to some of them on the street.
“Excuse me.”
The man he was addressing turned to him. His face was blank and emotionless.
“Now that you have control of the city, what next?”
The stopped and looked around.
“You should know.”
“Yeah, well, what do you want?”
“The next step is to control the country.”
“OK, and then?”
“Then the planet.”
“And then?”
“Then we control the planet.”
“But at some point we have to decide what we are going to do with what we’ve conquered, right?”
The man just frowned and started walking again.
* * *
Alice and Mike had taken to meeting for coffee once or twice a week. This time, Mike had managed to order something.
She’s picking up the tab, right?
Shut up.
Out loud Mike said “They don’t seem to have any goal aside from taking over.”
“Yeah, they’re pretty single minded.” Alice agreed glumly.
The waitress came buy and almost literally dropped their coffees off. Service at the diner had gotten a lot worse since the staff had fallen under the influence of the aliens.
Figures now that you finally can get something around here, the coffee stinks.
I thought you said it made you all jittery.
I’m just saying.
“It doesn’t make a whole lot of sense -” Alice observed “- I mean going to all the trouble of taking over a planet without having any sort of plan for what you’re going to do with it.”
“Have you asked your Puppeteer what they think?” Mike asked.
“No, have you?”
They both silently talked to their aliens.
So what do we do?
Same thing we do every night: TRY TO TAKE OVER THE WORLD!
You stole that from ‘Pinky and the Brain.’
But it’s a good line.
Yeah, but seriously, what is the plan for after taking over the world?
The Puppeteer was silent for a moment.
This is weird. I don’t know. It’s like there’s this...
“Mine says it’s like there’s this wall in it’s mind - it can’t get past it” Alice chimed in.
What she said.
Mike considered the table and the spilt coffee on it. He took a sip from his mug and made a face.
“If there’s nothing they want then what’s the point of conquering the world?”
Well actually, I’d like to see Episode IV of Star Wars.
You’ve already seen it.
Oh, I mean Episode VII. Damn George Lucas for screwing around with the numbering scheme!
Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.
And those annoying things of ketchup - you know the ones - in those little plastic packets. Impossible to open!
Technically I’m the one that has to open them.
Right, well, I’m just saying.
Alice was frowning. “Mine said something about how those non-dairy creamers are foul and that it would do away with them.”
Hey! That’s a good one!
Shut up.
“Well” Alice stood up “I’m glad we had this time to chat.”
“I don’t suppose you’ve...”
“No” She said flatly and left.
The waitress shuffled over and put down the bill. In one of the puddles of coffee.
“Hey!” Mike looked after Alice, but she was already gone.
* * *
A few weeks after that, the US Government finally caught on that they had been invaded. It appeared that the center of the country was in control of the Puppeteers while the coasts were still controlled by humans. Most of Europe and virtually all of Russia, China and Africa were controlled by the aliens.
The Puppeteers hoisted their flag, a silver blob with a globe superimposed on it, over Denver.
"We reign supreme," said someone expressionlessly.
"Um...yippee?" Said Mike. He was thinking that this would make them a target.
Sure enough, the government sent a large force to retake Denver.
The Puppeteers fought by simply giving way to the soldiers. When the tanks arrived one day in downtown, for example, there was no one who tried to stop them. Mike had the misfortune to be there when they arrived.
Mike was walking down the street when he turned a corner and came face to face with a tank.
Not knowing what else to do, he raised his hands.
"Freeze, alien scum!" Came a command over a loudspeaker.
"I'm not moving." Mike said.
There was a pause then "Surrender!"
"OK, I surrender" Mike replied.
This seemed to take the tank operator aback. Mike could hear a whispered conference within, then a hatch opened in the turret. A soldier popped out holding a machine gun.
"Don't move!" he said.
"OK" Mike said.
The soldier regarded him for a moment.