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.
Waiting until his new host faded into a deep slumber, Tao made his move and suppressed his host’s consciousness, and then sat him up. Tao had never been that good at unconscious manipulation to begin with, and already exhausted from the night’s ordeal, his control was shaky. He maneuvered Roen like a minivan across the room to the desk and pawed at the football-shaped phone. It took a few tries, but Tao finally dialed the emergency line and waited the established fifteen rings before someone answered.
The other voice said, “Twenty-four-hour wake-up service. We wake up to wake you up. Can I help you?”
“Identification Tao.”
“Voice recognition does not match host Edward Blair.”