random excerpts from
WEED
by Peter J. Ponzo
... about a WEED, taken from the jungles of the Amazon, with a virus,
carried on the
spores of a fungus. The fungus dissolves the cell wall, injects virus-coated spores,
invading the cell mitochondria, the virus multiplies and continues on,
injecting its parcel of DNA into the cell nucleus, reviving junk DNA which
had been dormant for millenia, recovering ancient characteristics,
revitalizing bodily organs ... but we'll let Fran tell it:
The main character is Fran Fleetsmith, a female. (My daughter insisted on this!)
Fran tells the story, in the first person:
....
"This fungus," I began, "which grows on the weed and eventually encases the body,
this fungus invades the body's cellular structure and causes gross mutation of the genes.
The chromosonal material is altered so as to reflect the more primitive aspects of the genes.
In man's evolution ... in woman's evolution, genetic changes occurred, we evolved, became erect,
lost much of our body hair, developed a larger brain - some of us - and smaller canine teeth.
These changes are embedded in our chromosones. Yet, the primitive characteristics are still
present, though mostly dormant. Vestigial tails attached to a fetus, an appendix that might
once have been a major organ. That's why man - note that I say man - can still act like a brute,
raping, pillaging, slaughtering his neighbours. The beast is still there."
"Excuse me, Miss Fleetsmith," Charles said, almost apologetically, "that seems a
preposterous premise. I mean, genes coming back to life after a million years of evolution."
"Not so," I said emphatically. "I vaguely recall a similar manifestation of dormant genes.
Didn't pay much attention in class so I've been poring over my old textbooks. There's
an extremely rare condition called hypertrichosis. It's an atavistic genetic defect;
a gene that's been suppressed during evolution. People who have this abnormal gene grow
excessive hair, on the face and upper body. Hairy apes. Perhaps that's the origin of werewolf
stories. Anyway, the gene that produced hairiness in ancient man is not lost, just held in
abeyance. In the course of evolution, other modern genes have taken over - the growth of
excessive hair is curtailed. The action of the weed? Aboriginal man emerges, with all his
savagery, all his antediluvian manners ... an uncivilized barbarian."
....
|
They's 'nother critter in the novel, a Texan. (Mah
daughter married one.) He's tellin' the story, but y'all know when he's tellin,
'cause he talks funny:
....
Ah punched in mah password, logged onto the police computer network, clicked on
ENQUIRY and typed "Georgia". Got me a whole mess o' stuff on the screen. Ah clicked on
HOMICIDE and got me a new mess. Then Ah clicked RECENT (one month) and they was a list of
'bout two hundred names, arranged alphabetical. Abraham, Arnold, Clugman, Correy, Hannah ...
Didn't do me no good. Ah didn't have the corpse's name. Guess Ah had to go through 'em all.
Ah clicked Abraham and got me a full name, address, dates, description of the body,
probable/possible cause of death, officers who made the report and so on. This'd take a
mighty long time.
Ah turn off the computer. Ah learned the hard way
thet thet's the easy way to git back outta this computer network, else yuh gotta
go back the way you came in, clickin' here 'n' clickin' there, closin' files,
deactivatin' searches, collapsin' windows 'n' the like. Ah figured the computer kin do thet,
so Ah jest pulls the plug. Hell, Ah figure the RAM slots on this computer got
Dodge truck parts installed ...
....
|
'course, there's also this ...
....
I walk for miles this night, along the highway, in the dark, along Cranberry Road to the beach. I follow the white sands to Hanover and break into my room at the Flanagan Motel. I don't know why I go back there. It seems the place to go, the thing to do. An instinct, impulse.
Young couple, sleeping in my bed. Before they move I tear the covers away, pull the young man from the bed. One blow. I break his neck. I am invincible. I can easily crush his skull with bare hands.
The girl screams. I express my discontent. It is a roar. I lift her from the bed, throw her to the wall. Her body falls silent to the floor. I feel dizzy, sway from side to side, moan quietly to myself. This is wrong. I am wrong.
I pick bodies from the floor, place each beneath an arm. They are rag dolls, weightless, limp. I stagger out the motel, beach, turn right, bridge, drop man's body in creek, turn again to beach.
Young woman lays by my side, dead. I sit on sand, shaking head. Dizzy. Scared. Stare at my hands, dark, hairy, dim light. Not my hands. Not me. Feel funny. Gaze at girl, tear nightgown, stare at smooth skin, smooth, white. Put hand to her breast. My hand, wrinkled, crooked hand. Push to my feet, cry out, a roar, a thundering howl.
Return to motel room, walking bent, stooping, to bathroom, stare into mirror. Brow heavy, nose flat, beady eyes, hairy face.
I am gorilla.
|
|