BigBug

Seamus was surprised and a wee bit disappointed when he went into Moon’s hotel room. He had hoped to catch sight of the beautiful Tanya and reaffirm his attraction to women. Seamus adored women, because among many complex complexities, his mammy was one, and he had been mama’s little boy. Tanya was not there. Moon was on his own in his hotel room sitting up in the bed drinking coffee and smoking a spiff. Moon was in great form. Seamus sat down and told Moon about the gigantic woman he woke up to in his bed. Moon roared with laughter.

“Its fine for you to laugh,” said Seamus, “you did not spend the night with a spiky, wart- spotted, flatulent, hippo.”

“How would you know?”

Seamus reached across lifted the pillow from Moons bed and sniffed it. “Since when do you use Channel? Expensive tastes that Russian girl.”

“I don’t care. She deserves everything she wants, even if she never needs them, even if she never gets them, even if she never ever even wants them too. She is amazing, absolutely amazing. She is actually incredibly indescribable. There are no adjectives worthy of her. She is an amazing creature and she fucked me into ecstatic exhaustion. All in the sweet secret dark. I passed out. It was, she is, a higher form of art, a free spirit that left me, wandered off, naked as the day she was born. Look,” Moon pointed to a hotel chair. Tanya’s clothes and underwear were thrown onto the chair. The items were burst, ripped and torn. Seamus held up a shoe. The heel was missing.

“Bit of rough and tumble?”

“Can’t remember. Don’t care. She left me in a state of sexual shock and I am a grateful base creature, who goofed off into erotic oblivion, with two wobbly knees. What more can I say?”

Not too much more to the obvious. Seamus saw that Moon was madly infatuated and probably in love with Tanya. He was in love with, by his own words, an indescribable. No wonder then he was in great form. She was indeed an amazing woman, beautiful, intelligent, athletic, interesting, cultured, sexy, very well off and great fun to be with. Just as well neither of them knew she was over one hundred and thirty years old. Seamus noticed all this from, a respectful envious distance disguised, but he was happy for Moon.

“Come on, get up. Let’s go, Doctor Herr Professor Moon. Let’s hope Tanya’s skill as a forger is as good as her taste in perfume.”

“And men,” says Moon combing his hair. Look at the cocky Moon grooming the locks like Elvis. He had showered and shaved and was behaving very well, out of character, and considering all, he was all together. He was wearing a white shirt and an awful looking glaring blue polyester mock silk tie he borrowed from a Russian. He was close to respectable looking. A miraculous manifestation, attesting to the awesome power of love, though Moon still stashed his dope supply in his crutch pouch stash. Was Moon a kangaroo in another life? Marsupial Moon? Old habits never die, they just lurk, suspended in want, dozing below the surface of longing. They left Moon’s room and went down and caught the shuttle bus to the conference. The bus was full of hangovers. The security staff, Moon christened them The Cubes, lurking at the entrance to the mineral fair making shapes, barely glanced at their I.D. and waved them through the VIP entrance towards the NASA scientific lectures. It was busy. The great hall was full of eminent scientists, from all over the world, chatting away. The air buzzed with theoretical tittle-tattle. It was warm. Seamus noticed the tall man with the long blonde tresses staring at them. He stared back at Bigbug. What a strange looking man. Alexander the Great fashioned in wax? Bigbug was hunched forward and appeared to be supported by resting on an invisible staff. Seamus was in some embarrassment. The man had a very obvious hard on. His green eyes were fixed in place, hammered into his head. He looked to Seamus like a three dimensional piece of human form, moulded from porcelain, in a 3D womb. Something odd about the chap but hey, hello there big lad, Seamus was from Belfast, a city not without its share of very odd odds and sods. Seamus and Moon waited in line to go into the Moon rock lectures. Waiting to get a look at the Apollo moon rocks and a couple of lunar meteorites. Security was tight. The Lunar meteorites were worth millions of dollars. The Apollo moon rocks were not for sale at any price. They were American national treasure and priceless. Seamus and Moon hoped the NASA experts would take a look at their meteorite. He looked around for the Hungarian scientists.

“I don’t see them,” he said to Moon, “do you?”

“I am not feeling well at all,” said Moon, “and it’s not the drink.” Moon was pale faced, and before Seamus could scoff, Moon pointed at the tall blonde haired man standing in front of them who now stood beside the doors to the lecture hall. “That guy is weird. He is giving out mad vibrations.” Moon rubbed his eyes. He had gone death grey now in the face and sweat rolled of him. “It’s rattling my brain with its aura he is - it is…” Moon croaked, staggered, and sat down on the floor.

Seamus dropped quickly down beside Moon. He knew what was coming next. He lay Moon down on his side rolled up his programme and stuffed it between Moon’s teeth so he would not bite his tongue. Seamus took off his jacket and placed it under Moons head. Moon began to stiffen up and rattle.

Bigbug increased the vibrations he was emitting and induced a full on epileptic fit in Moon. Moon began groaning and shaking furiously. His entire body was rigid as a cell door. Every cramped muscle in his body was screaming in protest. The pain was unimaginable. The devilment, the sparkle, the fun that was Moon, the love of life light, left his eyes and all was replaced with a dull painful dullness that blocked out the very light of existence. Moon was losing consciousness.

“Hold his legs,” said Seamus. “He’s having an epileptic fit.”

“Certainly,” replied the Bigbug and held Moon’s feet together.

Moon began to scream at the Bigbug’s touch. “Noooooooooo.” His voice went quiet and he spoke like a small boy. “Get this monster away from me mammy.”

Seamus swore Moon changed into a small, frightened boy for a flickering instant. Moon was frothing at the mouth the froth speckled with blood. Moon began to weep and moan, a deep wailing primordial sounds that came from somewhere deep inside him. It took four people to hold him down. They were surrounded by a sea of white coats. A medical team arrived. Military paramedics. They strapped the unconscious Moon into a stretcher. One of the medics removed Moon’s I.D card. He went over to Seamus. He started speaking to Seamus in Russian.

“He wants to know if you’re a colleague of Dr Herr Professor Moon?” The Bigbug was translating. How nice of it.

“Yes. He is having an epileptic fit.”

The doctor with the Hungarian Para medics muttered something to his colleagues.

“He is saying it doesn’t look like epilepsy to him. Has he had fits before?” The Bigbug’s eyes were riveted on Moon. There were forces, great forces going on in Moon’s head that the Bigbug did not understand. A magnificent maelstrom. Mental turmoil. Artistic anarchy. Awesome and fascinating. This must be investigated as an urgent scientific priority. Bigbug logged that and DATA concurred.

“Yes, he has fits, but never this bad.” Moon looked really ill. The medics were pumping his heart. They placed an oxygen mask over his mouth. The medic was rattling and rumbling away in Hungarian which they thought Bigbug and Seamus did not understand. The Bigbug handed Seamus his coat.

“The captain is saying headquarters have informed him some kind of chemical or biological agent may be responsible and that Hungary may be under attack. They are taking Professor Moon to a military clinic.”

The paramedic captain spoke to Seamus in Russian. Just nod whispered Bigbug. Seamus did. Bigbug explained. “They want you to come to the clinic, as soon as you can, and bring the professors things.”

“What things?”

“His credentials, his papers, his clothing, and of course most important here, his health insurance.”

“It’s just an epileptic fit. It’s nothing else. He has had fits before. He will be ok once it passes. He doesn’t need to go to a hospital. He just needs a bit of rest, a spliff, a few pints, a wank and a lamb vindaloo. Any order will do.”

The medics lifted up Moon on the stretcher and ran out the building with him.

“They said not to worry. Your colleague will be looked after by the finest doctors in Hungary.”

“Where are they taking him?”

“It is a private military/ medical facility that was, until the collapse of communism, used exclusively by the government elite. It was a Party Place. It’s ironic. That’s where they all ended up in the end when they were rounded up. In the secure psychiatric hospital next door where they used to interrogate and brainwash the enemies of the state. It was nothing more than a sophisticated torture centre. Maybe it still is. Old habits you know, like old soldiers, never die, they are just kept in reserve.”

“I better go with him then," said Seamus, “thanks. Thanks very much.” Who was this man? He had Richard Burton’s magnificent theatrical voice. There was no time to dwell on it. Seamus went outside only in time to see Moon be loaded into a helicopter. The helicopter lifted off carrying Dr Herr Professor Moon into an awful lot of trouble.

“It’s not that far away,” said the Bigbug who had followed Seamus outside and was standing next to him, “less than one hour’s drive.” He handed Seamus the address. “You will find it on your Tom Tom. You cannot miss it. You will see the high walls, barbed wire, watchtowers, all those cold war kind of bits and pieces. The simple bare necessities of the socialist state.”

“Thank you. This is really nice of you.”

“It’s nothing. Glad I could help a fellow geologist. You better bring your I.D with you. I would imagine security there will be very strict.”

Seamus caught a taxi back to the hotel. He explained briefly to the hotel manager what had happened and the manager let him into Moon’s room. Seamus cleaned it out then he checked them both out the hotel. He destroyed his false Russian I.D. set the Tom Tom and headed as fast as he could to rescue Moon.

The Bigbug was standing on the steps of the conference hall. It was laughing to itself. It was curious. Bigbug could feel glee without programming, without manufacturing and ordering the emotion to arise, but although all van Zoete’s brain cells had been replaced, each and every one by a tiny alien DATA bug, Pieter still retained many elevated human traits. The boy was still in there in some way. Without these human emotions, the host would be unable to function as a viable bug host community. Hence, to mention but two of these lingering human traits, van Zoete’s wicked, sadistic, and deadly sense of humour, and great greed, as in its burning desire to own every great work of art on Earth. DATA began to talk with Bigbug.

“We have the safes from the lawyer’s offices. I am going to open them and retrieve the rock”

“Good. This is a great moment in our progress.’’

“I am interested in the Moon.”

“I have had Moon and, the other pest, currently placed under arrest.”

“Why have we done this?”

“It was the only way, in the circumstances, to stop them meeting up with the NASA scientists.”

“Have them released into your custody and bring the creatures back here for discussion, dissection, and examination, and,” DATA emphasised, “interrogation. Make sure both of the specimens are intact. There are many questions they have to answer. For instance, Bigbug, where did they find the DATA rock? Are there more? The area must be scanned.”

“ Yes, great one.”

“Good.”

For some reason illogical, a half hour before it went into the conference hall, Bigbug accessed the Hungarian national security computers and initiated a national emergency to disrupt the mineral fair. It activated the Hungarian emergency response team’s police and security services and informed them that a bio terrorist’s attack had taken place inside the conference centre. Budapest was under attack. Terrorists Attack! The bread and butter of breaking news. After Moon and Seamus were out of the building Bigbug went back inside and from the glands behind its ears it released a vile toxic gas that had most of the delegates down on their hands and knees, in seconds, violently vomiting all over the place, and all over each other. They were unable to control their bowels and all, men, woman, pets, school children and security personnel fouled themselves with green, runny, stinking sticky, shit. The Bigbug thanked his little viral colleagues for such a spectacular show and it walked out the hall, grinning, just as the men in space suits arrived to cordon the place off. The stench inside was – inhuman? The Bigbug laughed to itself. It liked that. Inhuman. Tell me about it. Bigbug pondered his plot. Now I wonder who is responsible for this terrorist attack against the NASA scientists. Who were these terrorists and how did they get into the building? They were Irishmen with false documents pretending to be Russian scientists. It was good to think like a human sometimes. The human rationale was so soundly grounded in paranoia. The Bigbug began to laugh as it walked along by the banks of the Danube. It was enjoying its secret mission. One terrorist suspect overcome by his own viral agent already in custody and the other arrested trying to break him out of detention. Helicopters flew low overhead. There was a deafening crash, an explosion and a huge ball of flames. One of the low flying helicopters crashed into the hovering invisible Turtle. Bigbug smiled and fed into the Hungarian computers the helicopter was brought down by an enemy ground to air missile. DATA moved the Turtle out of Hungarian airspace. Ambulances and police cars were screaming, wailing, rushing at high speed towards the conference centre and humans, dopey pests, standing mouths agog, suspicious eyes glittering, wondering what was going on and enthralled by it all. Pests. Insufferable pests. The Big Bug looked so much forward to the Great Cull. Reducing the human population to a manageable proportion in relation to other Earth life forms and adapting them for a higher productive process. It may turn out, mused Bigbug that DATA would have to exterminate all the humans, every last son of a bitch of them, if they ever have any bitches left. Bigbug was determined to save those humans with outstanding artistic talents. They would be Bigbug pets. The Bigbug urgently needed a shot of Bug juice. Its energy was low with all the excitement. Its skin now flapped about on its bones and its old worn out microbial altered petrified stony organs were closing down. The great thing about Bugjuice was the more you drank the more you produced. It was a junkies dream. You could never be without a fix. The Bigbug sat on a secluded bench in the park. There were no humans about. Admirable. There was no time to jerk off into a cup or milk itself into a teapot. God no! It took out its hard, massive, wasp ringed striped, mighty organ of substance. The pent-up yellow sticky Bug juice was oozing out of the peeping eye about to erupt. The Bigbug inserted its long thin silver toot tube deep into the hole at the top of its knob, bent over, and began to suck out the Bug juice, making grunting, satisfying, sucky slurping, sounds. A milk shake could never taste as good not even the one made by mum! The life, the power of a superior species, rushed through Bigbug. Total reinvigoration. The Bigbug gasped. He fell back onto the bench satiated. He was trembling and slobbering. Anna Tieken and her lover Daniel Szabolcs came to their secret love spot almost every lunchtime. It was a small hollow hidden inside some flowering shrubs and they were both not more than two metres away from Bigbug and it jerking about on the bench and its cock pointing up at the sky. A perfect view of perversion. They were well used to people stopping and sitting on the bench. Annja found it spicy, exciting, she was married to a librarian, and having to make love without making a sound and the people so close. It could be her husband sitting there reading one of his boring poetry books, but it wasn’t. It was the Bigbug having lunch from his wasp ringed mighty organ of sustenance. It was not for reproduction so please do not look at it in a cocky way. The toot tube, which once belonged to a famous rock star, was still stuck in the Bigbug’s knob. It pulled it out licked it and sucked out the last drops of Bug juice. The flabbergasted lovers were motionless and shocked speechless. The Bigbug carefully put away its toot tube and patting its still erect organ it put it away and mouthed the words - ‘I love you, baby.' It stood up and walked away briskly humming as it strolled off along the Danube. It was off to visit the museums. Deciding which great works of art to keep for itself. The rest would be recycled as inferior product. The young couple stood up and came out from their love nest and stared after The Bigbug. Sex, life and milkshakes would never be the same for them again. Not now. Not ever. Not even in you know where.