BigBug

The M&Ms threw Moon and Seamus into a large cell in the holding pen. The door slid silently closed. The Bigbug was standing there in the corridor staring in at them through the transparent wall and door. Its hand was down its trousers rubbing its feeding organ. It was panting and dribbling with excitement.

“Did you really believe that you could outsmart us? That pathetic creature's like you, like all your damned insufferable species, could manipulate DADA? Did you think you could fool the most intelligent intelligence in the universes? You are loathsome. You are a useless, stupid, life form and your stupidity is only outmatched by your arrogant ignorance. I hate you so much.” It turned its head listening to an unheard voice. It smirked. “Well, it seems you were telling the truth about the meteorite.” He addressed Seamus. “That may go in your favour at the inquisition, but you will do well to remember the exact place you found our kind. And if you have hidden away or given away any pieces, no matter how small, you better own up to it. They are ours. They are us. It is pure DADA.” It shouted. “The greatest power in the universes.” It spayed luminous mauve spittle all over the cell wall. It paused listening again. It trembled then took its hand out from its trousers, examined the hand, and eagerly licked its sticky fingers. It licked its lips with a mottled gray going yellow spotted pepper-corn warty tongue. It sighed. “No matter you will tell us everything. You will be left empty of data and as alone as an ant on an asteroid crying out for companionship in deep unknown space. Hello! Is there anybody out there? Our M&Ms are programmed to use the more traditional methods of interrogation. They enjoy it and we watch, record and store, for future analysis, some of the viler re-enactments of barbarity from human past, most of which were invented by your holy men, to protect various wee tin pot gods, from mythical invented creatures who the holy men never believed existed. Craw thumping schizophrenics and sadistic sky pilots. I digress.” He addressed Moon. “Talk later. I have to go to the reunion.” He walked a few steps and called out to him in a perfect movie voice, ” I’ll be back.”

The children, all young pre-teen girls, were huddled together in the cell across from Seamus and Moon. Seamus saw through the glass walls the cell floor was littered with chocolate, candy wrappers, and fast food takeaway bags. They were young oriental girls and all wearing red tracksuits. Painted on the backs of the tracksuits were large white numerals. Seamus saw one girl with 22 painted on her back. Moon was standing frozen to the floor staring in at the kids.

“There are at least 22 of them,” Seamus said to Moon.

“We have 25.” said the M&M standing guard outside the cell. It was boasting ” One between two of us. They are delicious. In many delightful ways.” The insane voice rose in expectation, “It is our Smoker night tonight. We celebrate the creation of half a million M&Ms here today and it is the fifth anniversary of the Mark 2.” It eyed the children with greedy perversity. “We will dine well.”

“Oh yeah,” agreed Seamus, “they are lovely.”

“Very tasty,” agreed Moon making a motion to Seamus to keep the M&M talking.

Seamus knew he had to keep control of his mind. Without the GUSH he could not have managed it. He would have been on the floor immobile with fright or he would have already killed himself. “Which number is yours?”

“11. My buddy and I have been given 11.” The M&M pointed into the cell. “There she is in the corner. Eat,” it shouted at the child, “eat. You are too skinny.” This vile creature turned its mad enraged nasty eyes on Seamus. “I am responsible for feeding and watering them. They get everything they need. I treat our treats with many treats.” It indicated the food and candy wrappers. It was trying to be witty to its supper. It gauged Seamus with carnivorous eyes and snapped its sharpened steel teeth at him. “You have a lot of flesh but it is bad, contaminated, meat. You are polluted to the core. No one will drink your blood even if it runs through the purification filters. It will always stink. You are not good to eat. You will be, stewed, baked and fed to the Technicals, but your bones will make a fine Marine. You are the one called Moon,” it pointed at him, “you will not be eaten. The bugs say you are reserved for possible adaptation. If you pass you will be upgraded and amended. DADA says you are special. You may be the one who…”

A voice spat out of the air; there was no speaker visible “That is enough 419. You speak too freely. Go to the guardroom. You are relieved.”

“Sir, yes sir.” It sneered at Seamus and pointed at him. “Prison pie! Prison pie!” it parroted, blew a kiss at the girls, and marched off along the corridor the steel horseshoes on its jackboots echoing as it stomped.

Seamus reached into his jacket and took out a small notebook and extracted the pencil out from the spine. The M&Ms had not searched them. Seamus wrote, ‘They can hear us but I don’t think they can see us. We have to save these kids.’ Moon nodded. ‘I still have my penknife. Take Bigbug hostage or cut its throat?’

Moon took the notebook and pencil and wrote. “God will help us, Have faith.”

“God,” roared Seamus, “What kind of God lets this happen?” he pointed over at the kids. ” What kind of God lets monsters invade his so called creation and eat children? Are you mad?” he yelled, “There is no fucking God.”

“Calm down,” says Moon. “Denying your faith will get us nowhere and blasphemy brings bad luck.”

Seamus punched Moon on the jaw. Moon fell down. Seamus put his notebook back in his pocket. He sat huddled on the cold stone bench hewn out of the bedrock. The whole facility was melted out from the bedrock. He turned his back on the children. He did not want them to see him weep. He dried his eyes with his sleeve and composed himself. Moon was still on the floor rubbing his jaw. “I am going to tell them about the other rock. We might be able to cut a deal. It’s a bigger meteorite so we must have some sort of bargaining power. Where have you stashed it?”

“No,” says Moon. “If we give them the other rock we are finished. All of us. Everyone. No.”

“What weight is the other rock?”

“Eleven kilos three hundred and sixty grams. You cannot let this meteorite fall into the hands of the bugs, Seamus.” Moon stood up. He glared at Seamus. The old bastard still packed a punch. He moved his jaw to and fro gingerly. “You might have broken my jaw and then where would we be? Eh?”

“In a much quieter and saner place. We have to try and negotiate. The only thing we have to negotiate with is the second rock. Agreed?”

“No way. It will only make things worse.”

“For Christ’s sake look.” Seamus pointed over at the girl’s cell. One little waif had breathed on the glass and written, ‘HELP US.’ “We have to get them out of there. The only thing we have is the rock. Negotiate Moon. Where is the rock?”

“Never,” shouted Moon. “I’d rather be dead.”

“They are not going to kill you. Haven’t you got it yet? They are going to turn you into Bigbug but I am going to be most definitely killed. They are going to turn me into a human sausage and make a monster with my skeleton.” Seamus jumped on Moon grabbed him by the throat and began to choke him. “It’s only a rock - a fucking lump of stone. Where is it? We are dead without it.” Moon was thrashing about wildly but Seamus was possessed with fear and anger. Moon could not shake him off or loosen his grip. Moon began to go blue in the face. “Where is the second meteorite?”

“Ok ok,” gasped Moon.

Seamus released Moon and flung him into the corner. The GUSH was accelerating the production of adrenalin in his freaked out body giving him the power of the desperate damned.

“Ok,” agreed Moon, “but let me think about it.”

“Fuck you,” screamed Seamus and advanced on Moon.

The door to the cell was opened and two M&Ms rushed in and restrained Seamus. He didn’t resist. He had fallen into exhaustion.

“When thieves fall out?” mused the Bigbug. “Another, bigger rock? This is a glorious day. DADA wishes to talk to you. Bring them,” he ordered the M&Ms. “And please gentlemen no more theatrics. Come along. Resistance is futile.” It was talking to them as if they were naughty children. They walked along behind the Bigbug escorted by four heavily armed M&Ms. At the end of the corridor an M&M, Seamus noticed it was the witty cannibal, opened a door for them and they stepped through onto a walkway, a gantry, high above the facility. The Bigbug paused to let them admire the hell factory below. Twenty metres down below in an enormous cavern, excavated from solid bedrock, the M&M clone facility was in full production. The stench of rotting flesh was augmented by the pungent steam rising up from huge boilers where they were steaming the flesh off hundreds of human corpses. The corpses were stacked up on top of each other men women and children. Clones rammed hooks into the shoulders of the corpses. The bodies were gutted, the entrails and human offal falling into a sewer, and then winched up to be lowered into vats of super-heated pressurised steam. As they watched in this nightmare it took no more than minutes before the flesh was peeled off the bones. The skeletons, men, women, and children, were transported up on a mechanised rail, bones dangling and jerking, in a macabre dance of death, up to the level of the gantry where they rattled through an entrance to their level.

“Raw materials,” explained the Bigbug as cool and friendly as a tour guide, “you see down there, the meat comes out the boilers fully prepared for consumption.” It pointed over to where behind the boilers the flesh was pushed out from an orifice as huge sausage wrapped up in the human skin of the victims. “Yes as you can see some pellets are bigger than others but that’s because each body is individually processed and obviously some are much bigger than others. Quality control,” it confided. “I suppose you may regard this as distasteful but that is nothing more than a cultural deception. It’s good food. Nourishing and it lasts a long time. It is also good news for Earth.”

“Yes,” agreed an M&M, “soon more will die than are born. Very soon. Population control.”

“Eco-friendly cannibals,” muttered Moon, “eat your kids and save the planet.”

Another M&M snarled at Seamus. “You cannot breed without your bitches.”

Seamus wanted to jump off the gantry but he knew they would scrape him up off the floor, strip his corpse, gut him and hang him on a hook to be processed. They would make him into a human sausage. He shuddered. Above anything else, he did not want to be turned into one of these monsters. In his despair, he focused on his da and found a resolve that he would try and kill the Bigbug. He would not let his da down like he had let his family down. A long time ago before the Troubles, he once had a wife and three kids. A beautiful wife and three children. A son and two lovely daughters. He still loved them all so very, very, much. He was not going to let this happen to them. As he watched the appalling scenes unfold before him he realized the enormity of the threat to the human race. Somewhere deep inside him, he saw it. There it was. The strength to resist. He found the nerve to fight back. He tapped into the great communal will to survive as a species. He was no longer afraid. The crippling mind boggling terror was gone and then a small sweet angelic voice softly whispered in his mind ‘Trust in God and fear not. You will prevail.’ He was certain this was not the GUSH playing tricks with his mind. Slowly the bitter avowed atheist began to silently pray. The old prayers from his childhood. Hail Mary full of grace the Lord is with thee blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus. Holy Mary mother of God pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Amen. He was not afraid of the hour of his death. He was not afraid of these monsters. Humanity would prevail.