The Galactic stooge stepped in front of him. “I’m been looking at your report.”
A flash of indigo lightning pierced the jungle. “Give me back my laptop,” Bill demanded.
Skaggs taunted him by holding it over his head. “Can’t say I like what you wrote about
me.”
The sky was a montage of dancing colors. Trees as tall as skyscrapers swayed. “I don’t care what you think,” Bill yelled over the roar of the wind.
“You ain’t gonna ruin my rep, pal.” Skaggs heaved the computer against some rocks. The device cracked. Skaggs grabbed it before Bill could get to it. He smashed it several times.
Bill knew the machine was useless. Without his notes, he couldn’t get student loan forgiveness. “Bastard!”
Skaggs smirked. “Guess you’ll be going to jail, pal.”
Bill wanted to hit Skaggs. Before he could do anything he heard a loud crack of thunder. The sky filled with a blinding tangerine light. Then he was overcome with nausea. He blacked out.
He woke up and saw himself. He must be dead. But he felt queasy and his head ached worse than a hangover after a college drinking binge. Dead people couldn’t feel pain, could they? God, he hoped not.
He stood up on wobbly legs.
He saw his body move.
Looking down, Bill realized the storm had affected him. He was in Skaggs’s body. Which could only mean Skaggs was in his. “Skaggs, you okay?” Bill called out.
Bill’s old body groaned.
***
Bill leaned back in the leather chair in Skaggs’s quarters and played “The Ballad of Jed Clampett.” His fingers still hurt. It would take him a few weeks to build up the calluses that experienced banjo players needed. It would take many months to work off Skaggs’ sizable gut.
The airlock hissed. Beth entered.
“I didn’t know you played the banjo.”
Bill grinned in his new body.
“I’m pickin’ it up.”
“Isn’t that Bill’s banjo?’
Bill put the instrument down. “I bought it from him.” When he realized he and Skaggs might never switch back he had arranged for Galactic to give his old body a share of the bonus.
Then he had paid off all his student loans with Skaggs’ money.
Beth sighed. “I guess he doesn’t want it anymore. The professor still says he’s you. That you stole his body.”
Bill felt sorry for Skaggs. He didn’t ask to switch bodies, but there was no reasoning with him. Skaggs just threatened Bill every time they spoke. “It’s really sad.”
“I’m recommending that we quarantine this planet,” Beth said. “We just don’t know enough about that electromagnetism. Look how it affected Bill.”
“My report says the same thing,” Bill said. He hoped that would keep Galactic away. He wished he could see Earl again. Maybe in a hundred years the whole planet would be playing bluegrass if Earl kept switching bodies.
“We put Bill back under sedation. He’s dangerous. You know, he told me this crazy story that we were all in danger of switching bodies.”
Bill tightened a string. “Crazy.”
“He was a nice guy.”
“What’s going to happen to him?” Bill asked.
“I don’t know. Psychologists on Earth will check him out.”
“You know, Beth, I’m thinking of retiring. I’m going to go to school. Maybe I’ll get a graduate degree.”
Beth cocked an eyebrow. “I didn’t know that interested you.”
Bill picked up the banjo and plucked a few chords.
“What is that song?” Beth asked. “It sounds familiar.”
“The Ballad of Jed Clampett. It’s about a poor old country boy who becomes rich beyond his dreams after he finds oil on his land.”
“Sounds like a fairy tale,” Beth said.
Bill laughed. “Yep.” He adjusted another string and started back up.
Whisper
YELLOW-SPOT-ON-CEPHALOTHORAX TOUCHED her Queen’s antennae with her own, and felt the surge of { } coursing through and down her body. The two parted and stood still for long moments, enjoying the bond they’d just shared.
The Queen’s upper hands palsied about and Yellow-Spot couldn’t understand what the Queen was trying to say. She looked at one of the Nurses caring for the Queen, who said, “I think the Queen means to ask you how your stay with the gods was.”
Yellow-Spot’s heart ached, seeing her Queen in decline. When the gods had taken
Yellow-Spot those many moons ago, the Queen had looked so young and vibrant. Further sorrow filled Yellow-Spot because of what she was about to do. She lied, “It was wonderful.” It was horrible, witnessing the hateful machinations of these gods. “I learned to understand their strange god-speak.” That much was true.
“Gods! They aren’t gods,”said the demon voice in Yellow-Spot’s mind.
“Be quiet,”she replied back in her mind. Her hands faltered, trying to find her train of thought
“Why would the gods choose not to be easily understood?”
“… and I feel honored and humbled that I can tell everyone finally what they are saying.”
“It’s all lies! They’re not gods at all. Why don’t they look like us? Where’s their Queen? Why do they kill each other? How do they { }? They eat so funny.”
Yellow-Spot smoothed her left antenna to distract from any yellow or green her color-face might be showing, betraying her smell of agitation. What she wouldn’t give to stop this demon in her mind.
“Wonderful,” the Queen said. “They will be at the New Queen choosing ceremony. Correct?”
“Correct, my Queen.” Yellow-Spot could barely speak, the sense of betrayal so palpable.
“Why don’t the gods give the Queen everlasting life?”
Yellow-Spot ignored the voice, took a deep breath. “My Queen, the gods request a Drone.” Her legs almost gave out. The betrayal, even though she wasn’t sure what she was betraying. “Why am I taking a Drone?”she thought-asked the demon.
As response, { } surged through her. Though the monster in her mind had no physical existence, it somehow was able to give her { }. “Do as I say and all will be answered, and you shall feel the everlasting { } of a Queen.”