Theraxis Comes to Visit (standard:fantasy, 3935 words)
Author: Harden	Added: Aug 28 2009	Views/Reads: 3257/2819	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Henry observes a new planet entering the solar system. It has frightening effects on some people but not others. In a state of wild panic, he runs till he comes to the answer.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

rises cautiously up from the floor, stretching his hand toward the 
closest blob but before he reaches it, he watches as a hand lotion 
bottle disappears into the pulsating globs of color.  It does not come 
out. 

“You know it's dangerous don't you?”  He shouts.  No response.  He
stumbles back, falls to the floor. 

Henry is fascinated, terrified, frozen. 

The phone rings.  The blobs have retreated further.  He moves his hand
up slowly toward the phone, retrieving the hand set with trembling 
fingers.  “Hello.  Yes, oh yes.  Could you ...  The new boss ... I see 
... his name - George?  George Samson?  Yes, right away.  I'll be 
there,” Henry stopped, not knowing how to ask for help,  “But wait, I 
need...” There is a click, a dial tone.  The handset lingers in Henry's 
grip, then he hangs up. 

Better get ready.  New boss, can't tell what he might do ...  Never
believe this ...  never.  Get out of here now.  Stop from going crazy.  
Wear the power tie... Henry thinks. 

“Eva, I have to go to work early.  Some kind of emergency meeting.  You
know, the new boss.  His name is George Samson.  Let's hope he doesn't 
have a lot of hair.  Ha ha ... ah, I'll call you if it's anything 
REALLY important.”  She gives no discernible response.  Henry prepares 
himself for work, his hands shaking so badly he drops his tie clip.  He 
rummages around on the floor looking for it - closer to Eva than he 
wants to be.  He finds it. 

### 

Dressed in his best tie, dress black shoes, his almost lost special gold
tie clip with the Saturn design, a light gray summer suit - not too 
formal but appropriate.  The tie clip catches the morning sun in 
brilliant gold flashes as it swings to the rhythmic movement of his 
walking while his mind soothes, archaic device.  Too shiny ...wouldn't 
wear it if it wasn't from Eva ... they're all normal out here ...  No 
blobs, no colors, just normal.  Maybe just a nightmare ... persistent 
one.   Ya, that's it, just a nightmare.  God, what makes my mind do 
such things?  Suppose everyone has them.  Not going crazy. 

The El is still there and all is still the normal downtown Chicago crush
of anxious people, though somewhat thinner due to the early hour.  The 
nightmare fades more.  Homan, State, at last, Adams/Wabash and a normal 
day of work madness waits.  Oh, the wonderful feeling of relief when a 
nightmare is over and one realizes it was nothing but busy 
neurotransmitters playing hooky from reality. 

Henry boards the elevator filled with eager faces to the top floor.  He
gets off, slides his ID card at the gate, walks down the hall to his 
home away from home - Perpetual Presentations Inc.  Through the heavy 
glass doors.  Conference room “C” she said.  Just upper staff she said 
- that'd be Jim, Tracy ... Neal.  Small group, should go fast if he's 
not a talker.  Then the Rehnquist account.  He won't stop that.  Hope 
Eva is ... nothing wrong with Eva, just a dream. 

At the head of the table is an unfamiliar face - the new boss.  His
fully bearded, round face sports a wide smile.  Mr. Samson's crimson 
tie splits the space between the tidy folds of his light blue lapels 
like a gaping surgical wound.  His hands are locked together in front 
of him - some new determination to change their lives - the ritual of 
new management.  He introduces himself, “Hi, I'm George Sampson, the 
new CEO here.  You're Henry, right?” 

“Yes sir, good to meet you.  Where are the others?” 

“They're coming.  In fact here they are now.” 

They saunter in, silent and ... they are ... BLOBS!!  Jim ... got to be
Jim ... yellow diamond tie.  And Tracy ... maybe Tracy ... can't tell.  
Same blue blouse she wears when things are iffy.  Think that's Neal - 
Oh God, it's not just a nightmare!  There're all turned into blobs just 
like Eva! 

Henry turns, comets of terror streak through his brain.  Only the balls
of his feet press his gleaming shoes to the cold granite floor as he 
races down the halls, not seeing, not thinking, not stopping till he 
gets to the elevator.  An agonizing wait to board and then the slow 
descent as if into the very bowels of Hell.  Passengers cast curious 
sideways glances at his anxious hand wringing, his feet shifting 
position constantly.  The door opens.  He leaps out of the elevator, 
nearly collides with several waiting to board as he dashes out into the 
street. 

Shoulders brush - a middle-aged man in a light tan summer suit shouts,
“Watch where you're going!  Damn crazies taking over the city!” he 
mumbles to himself. 

“What's the matter?  There a fire somewhere?” a curious teenager asks,
“You need help?  You sick?”  Henry can't answer.  An invisible hand 
grips his throat. 

Scowls, curiosity, disdain.  Some shout, some curse.  A few more offer
help to his frozen ears.  Exhausted, he stops.  A forest of stone and 
glass spires surrounds him.  He feels as if he is wading through the 
tissues and vessels of a gigantic organism - a breathing city.  He 
feels devoured. 

Across the street is a different building, wide entrance staircase,
majestic columns - a building of Greek wisdom, maybe with an answer.  
Henry races across the street, dodging honking cars and bounds up the 
stately stairs.   He pulls on the great bronze doors, hope rising as 
the doors groan their protest.  A faint musk of decay greets his face.  
Inside, at the bottom of a wide marble staircase, he waits for his eyes 
to adjust to the dimness.  Two crystal chandeliers dominate the center 
crest of the ceiling vault, dirty crystals only allowing a few 
struggling rays of yellow into the cavernous gloom.  Slowly walking up 
the staircase, the enormous size of the station's main waiting room 
comes into full view.  Ionic Columns 30 feet tall line the outer 
perimeter.  Resting on their sturdy shoulders is the base of the vault. 
 Faded paintings of pastoral scenes in the fashion of the 17th century 
cover the soaring surface.  In the dim light the frolicking giants 
appear as though they had been suddenly freeze-dried in the midst of a 
most delicious dance.  He shudders, stops, afraid to continue; yet he 
feels compelled to go on. 

Looking straight ahead, he sees row upon row of contoured solid oak
benches arrayed in precise formation bisected by a wide aisle.  In the 
middle of the aisle is a set of footprints in the dust.   The faded 
brass skeleton of the terrazzo floor is barely visible.  He follows 
these tracks thinking the person who made them, being somehow of this 
very different place might also be different in some fundamental way - 
some way that would help to rescue his tormented mind from the day's 
bizarre events. 

At the end of the trail, he finds a man wearing the shoes that made the
footprints.  Alive, calm, reading a book, perfectly normal in every way 
important to Henry.  He doesn't bother wiping away the dust as he sits 
down.   Henry's eyes are drawn to the ruffled fringe of 
strawberry-blond hair encircling a nobly resplendent naked bulge of 
intelligence. 

“Excuse me, do you mind if I sit here?” 

“Well, I suppose so...” the gentleman replies.  His round cheeks glow
red with flush, humid, warm air working on a very light complexion 
Henry thinks.  A plain striped tan and green tie, tightly crossed legs, 
a faint scent of musk cologne, a large book - maybe an educated man who 
can offer some insight, make some minute or profound observation 
overlooked - something new, something helpful.  Henry gains the courage 
to bring more of his mind to his lips. 

“My name is Henry - Henry Prentiss.” 

“I'm Carl Bates.   Good to meet you.” 

“I know it seems awfully forward, and ... well, you probably think I'm
one of those, you know, mentally unstable persons, but I can assure you 
I'm not.  I can show you my credit cards, my driver's license.  I even 
have my work ID card, I...” Henry fumbles through the pockets of his 
jacket. 

“That's really not necessary,” the stranger replies cautiously. 

“I'm terribly embarrassed about this but you see, I've had a very
strange experience.  It left me kind of shaken.  I just want to talk 
about it with someone.” 

”OK.  I have a bit of a wait anyway, so go ahead,” Carl replies as he
meticulously marks his place and turns his attention to Henry. 

“It started early this morning ... ah let's see, maybe about three or
four I think.  I was at home with Eva - she's ... well ... we kind of 
live together.” 

“Permanently?” 

“Yes, I would say so ... or I would have said so before all this
happened.  Now, well, now ... I don't know.  Anyway, Eva was sitting 
there on her chair when I came into the room.  I had some new photos of 
Theraxis I had just made with my new photo plates.  I wanted to show 
them to her....” 

“Oh, so you're an amateur astronomer? Or perhaps a professional?” 

“Just an amateur - a rather obsessive one I suppose.  I was going to the
powder room.  She was getting ready for work - putting on makeup ... 
all that wonderful, mysterious stuff women do.  I really wanted to show 
her my new pictures of Theraxis; you could actually see storm systems.  
I didn't notice at first but then I looked at her ... that's when the 
big shock came.  I ... I can't describe it very well.  It was just so 
crazy ... it was ... well, her head and her hands ... they just kind of 
tapered off from her body into ... blobs ... weird, colored moving 
blobs.  Now remember, I was right next to her, and my eyes work just 
fine and her hands and head had no surface.  It was as if some crazy 
magician was using a combination of cheesecloth and trick lenses to 
distort and blur my vision.  At the same time the rest of her was still 
clear so I knew it wasn't my eyes.” 

“Wow!  What were you on, anyway?” 

“I swear to God, I don't take drugs, not even alcohol – or medicine - no
medical effects.  Honest!  Because of this crazy blob thing, I couldn't 
even tell how many fingers were on each hand.  Even the movement of her 
hands was hard to see.  Yet, I couldn't see through the blobs either, 
so they really were there.  And even more bizarre, I watched as these 
blobby hands picked up a bottle of hand lotion and the bottle just 
disappeared – never came back!” 

“That is kind of hard to believe.  And she said nothing?” 

“Nothing at all.” “What did you say?” 

“I asked her what was wrong with her hands.” 

“And?” 

“No response.  Actually, if it weren't so weird, so damn scary, it
would've been very beautiful.  The colors were swirling around like on 
some kind of mad painter's canvas, like a cross between Van Gogh and 
Disney.  Green, lots of green, blue, red, yellow, every color you could 
think of - they just exploded, one color inside another, mixing and 
exploding and swirling.” 

“Mmmm.  What did you do then - did you laugh or cry?” 

“Neither.  I was too scared to do anything – I just kind of froze-up.” 

“Why would you think she might have been attacking you?” 

“It just seemed so aggressive, the way she moved those blobby things
toward me.  And I saw them swallow up a bottle of hand lotion.  I guess 
I was afraid they would swallow me too.  Then, what really made me 
think I was seeing something impossible was her floating - like she was 
sitting but still suspended above anything solid.” 

“This is sounding more like magic with each bit you tell me.” 

“Evil magic.  Damned evil magic!  If I did something to deserve it I
sure wish I knew what it was.  And what is it doing to her?  I love 
this woman and now something awful is happening to either her or me or 
maybe both of us, I just don't know!” 

“You mean it's still happening?” 

“I think so.  I kept wishing it was just a nightmare ...what's happening
to your nose?” 

“My nose?” 

The tip of Carl's finger went to his nose, “Here?” 

“No ... a little higher ... now it's gone.” 

“Don't worry about it.  Just go on,” Carl reassured Henry while
pretending to scratch his embarrassing nose. 

“Just as I started to get up, the phone rang.  This phone, I mean, I
just had to answer it because I thought maybe I could ask for help.  It 
was just someone at work asking me to come in for a special meeting, 
which I did.  I whipped on some clothes and went to work early  ... and 
found...” Henry coughed several times, his breathing becoming out in 
deep sighs between spasms. 

“I got there all right.  The new boss, he looked normal.  But ... Oh God
it was terrible!  All my friends were just like Eva!  Jim, Neal, ... 
Tracy too.” 

“That's awful!  What did you do?” 

“Something just snapped.  I ran out of there screaming - out on to the
street and ... again, they were still OK - all the people on the street 
were free of the blobs - they looked normal.   Then I saw the train 
station and, I don't know why but I ran inside.  It seemed like a safe 
place.” 

“I wondered why you were here.  There aren't any trains due now and...” 

“It's that I need help with this craziness.  I don't know whether to
laugh at how ridiculous it is or just... just cry.  I'm not one to cry 
- I laugh a lot.  That's kind of my way, but it's getting harder and 
harder.  It seems I can't have any friends.  I feel very isolated and I 
don't know what to do.” 

”Have you thought about seeing, maybe some kind of doctor?” 

“A shrink, that's what you mean.  And just why would I be going crazy
now?  It doesn't make any sense.  Nothing in my life has changed - no 
big stress, none of the milestone things to drive me over the top.  
Anyway, I'm afraid I'll get to know the doctor too well ... too fast.  
It would be the last straw.” 

“You know, it just occurred to me - it might be Theraxis.  Recent
research has it that some astronomical events, particularly new ones, 
can influence human behavior.  I recently read a paper about this in 
“The Journal of Transcendental Medications”.  As I remember it, the 
title was ‘Subliminal Intimacy Multivariate Determination and its 
Co-measures in Supra-Terrestrial Causation' by Johnson et. al.  They 
hold that the ancients were right about Astrology and all that.  So, 
certainly a new planet would exert some unpredictable effects.” 

“Really?  If that were true, then maybe it will go away since Theraxis
will be well beyond the limits of our system in several months.” 

“Not necessarily.  They contend some changes are permanent.  Especially
big changes - like yours.” 

“Oh.  Well, just my luck as usual.” 

“Maybe you can adjust to it.  Learn how to deal with it.” 

“I don't know.  It just seems so hopeless.  I don't know what to do.” 

“Henry, look ... I like you.  I think we could be friends.  Friendship's
a hard thing to find.   Hard to find people you can trust.  Still, 
that's not something you should be afraid of.” 

“Everyone I cared about, everyone I knew every little secret about -
they all turned to this ... this mush!  I don't want to go around with 
strangers all the time.  I need to know someone - anyone.  This is like 
being in solitary confinement in some awful French prison.  I'm afraid 
I'm losing my mind!” 

“I don't know what to do ...I want to help, I really do.  But I don't
understand it.  You seem like such a good person, a normal person - not 
a madman.  Perhaps if my wife and I came over to visit you and your 
friend, maybe that would shake you out of it.” 

“Oh, I would like that so much.  A quiet little dinner, some
interesting, friendly conversation.  Sometimes adversity brings people 
together ... what's that on your face again.   Are you listening to me? 
 What's happening to you?  Oh shit, it's happening to you too!” 

Henry slides back away from Carl, his wide-open eyes locked on Carl's
blob forming hands and head.  Carl's body turns and twists restlessly 
as it slowly rises above the old wooden bench.  Henry turns and runs 
out of the station, into an alley.  He hides behind a rusting dumpster, 
trying to breath ... slowly.   His bowels twist, his head floats, 
consciousness recedes.  Henry sinks into a mindless slump in a littered 
cement and steel corner. 

### 

Shouting, arguing, violent noise is the first awareness Henry feels.
Someone slams a door waking him further.  His head aches and his back 
is sore.  Looking up he sees the misty gray/pink of deep twilight in 
the city.  Only the bravest stars and the rising full moon shine 
through the enveloping haze.  Memory returns slowly, bit-by-bit until 
the image of Eva trapped in a state beyond understanding comes vividly 
to his mind.  I must find out, I can't stand this, he thinks.  I'll 
touch her and see what happens.  If I die, it couldn't be any worse ... 
just past midnight, train is still running if I hurry. 

It always seems to be this way.  When time is short elevators are
already on their way up to the top.  Each second is a minute, each 
minute an hour.  Henry paces, the elevator finally arrives.  He rises, 
gets off.  Of course I have to turn left when it should be right.  How 
many more years am I going to make the same mistake?  Fumble with the 
key - left, right, always get it mixed up.  Is she in bed already ... 
yes.  The light, yes, the blobs are still there.  She's not even 
touching the bed.   She looks to be asleep.  Maybe I should check to 
see if there are any traces of the bottle she picked up.  Broken 
pieces, spilled lotion, something like that. 

Henry walks slowly to the powder room, opens the door and walks in.  His
haggard face stares back at him.  There on the counter is the lotion 
bottle he saw disappear.  It's sitting there unharmed, its cap off.  
Someday I'm going to tell her about that.  Leaving the cap off  - it's 
an invitation to a spill - and it dries up, loses important 
ingredients. 

He stands up, walks to the bedroom, approaches Eva.  He stretches his
hand out to touch hers.  As his hand approaches hers, it painlessly 
swells.  Jets of colored gas shoot out, curve around his fingers, tie 
each other in knots and braids.  There is a stinging pleasure, a 
thousand itches scratched.  Closer, more jets of color till they meet, 
blob to blob.  The blobs of Eva and Henry merge, expand, engulf and 
sing their velvety sweet fragrant colors in C major.  Henry does not 
die - there is life within the color. 


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