The Photient – Free from Inkitt

I forgot all about the baboons and jumped out of my skin on spotting a troop approaching in the distance. It was too late to back out. They were heading toward me down a narrow path. Last time I barely got away managing to scramble over the wall before they attacked. I wondered if they remembered last time, do Baboons remember? How long for?

My flamboyant pink shirt was starting to grate. Of all the day’s I chose to wear it I chose today. I decided to wear the stupid thing and now I was stuck. Fear, is the enemy. That’s what they say and I was wreaking of it. I tried to avoid the leader’s hellish gaze and slip pass casually unnoticed, studying the grain on the fence opposite but the leader was unassuaged.

As the moment drew closer Ian came out of nowhere and swept me up from behind.

“You okay? Karl, you okay?”

I snapped to, disorientated, all the while unsure, waiting to be clear of danger. “That shirt is bad news ‘ol boy. We better scoot before he tries to hump you.” and with that the leader walked by.

I had been assigned to Ian Shersby, a distant acquaintance from school. It was my job to pull him in. He was a Photient like me. Unlike me he did not know he was one, not yet.   I hung out with him that day for a few hours to warm up. The idea was to ease him in slow but as time passed I realised when breaking into the absurd, there was no slow.  I was hoping he’d accept the news as confirmation of theories brewing in that psychedelic head of his but was pretty sure he’d freak out. There was no easy way to break it so I did it cold, straight off the bat.

I grabbed the remote, switched on the game and showed him. I showed him what we could do, what we were capable of. Time after time I fluffed the shot deliberately to show I was in control of the player. On taking instruction from him and executing the prescribed task he sat jaw sagging, comprehensively beaten, convinced it had to be true. Shock grips a man in different ways. I was violently sick but Ian was instead quiet for the longest time. Ian, the zoologist a quiet man unscrewed a bottle of Glenfiddich and necked it straight. He cancelled the day and we headed down to HQ to meet the others.



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