Nematodes
A Short Story by John Photos
Dave slithered along the shiny surface of the dish. All around him were other worms, his dishmates. They tumbled and snaked over and past each other, moaning and scanning for food. Their skin made a nauseating squeaky sound as they did. Dave didn’t feel like eating, but he couldn’t think of anything else to do either. He flicked his tail and propelled himself along, right into another worm. “Sorry!” he said. “I didn’t see you there on account of I don’t have eyes.” “That’s okay,” said the other worm. “My nervous system has only very crude pain receptors. What’s your name?” “I’m Dave. What’s your name?” “I’m RNAi318v0.” “That’s a pretty name,” said Dave. “Kind of long though.” “It is kind of long. You can call me Arnie for short.” “Okay, Arnie.” “So, what are you up to? Have you eaten yet?” “No. I’m not very hungry for some reason.” “Hmm. Well, I am. Do you want to have lunch with me?” Dave couldn’t see why not. “Sure.” “Great. Let’s go.” Arnie turned and slid away toward the wriggling tangle of worms several millimeters in the distance. Dave followed behind, trying to detect, without being too obvious, if Arnie was a male like himself. S/he wasn’t, and Dave felt a wave of relief pass over his spicules. Suddenly his appetite came to him and he happily joined Arnie and the others while they feasted on decaying matter.… The next morning Dave woke to the sounds of his dishmates once again gorging on something decayed. He looked around for Arnie, trying not to seem desperate. “BOO!”“ACK!” Dave startled and maneuvered himself around to find Arnie and two other worms laughing. “Haha. You should’ve seen the place where your face would be!” she cackled. “Yeah. You got me,” Dave said in a way he hoped was casual. “We missed you last night. We tried to find you but I guess you’d already gone to sleep. We went to see this guy dance. His name is RNAi116v4 but he goes by How Smoove. He’s amazing. He figured out how to do this simultaneous ventral/dorsal sway thing that looks sick. And he can do the worm like you would not believe.” “Man, that sounds really neat.” “Yeah. It was.” Dave cleared his pharynx. “So, who are your friends?” “OMG I forgot you hadn’t met. This is Willa and Gigi.” “Nice to meet you,” Dave said. “Hi,” either Willa or Gigi said while the other said nothing. “So what are you up to today?” Dave asked, his attention back on Arnie. “Well, eating of course, probably do a lap of the dish. What about you?” Suddenly Dave was embarrassed to realize he hadn’t thought about much other than Arnie, but now that s/he was here he didn’t know what he should do. “Me too!” “Great.” The four made their way to the breakfast slime. While they ate, Dave kept glancing at Arnie and hers friends. He knew they were also hermaphroditic, but he had the distinct feeling that they saw Dave as their rival for Arnie. After breakfast they set out to find something called the Outer Edge, an enormous vertical wall that seemed to stretch for infinity in either direction. “Let’s race,” Arnie suggested and then bolted before Dave had even agreed. As a male, Dave was naturally larger and stronger than Arnie. Nevertheless he couldn’t seem to overtake herm, nor did he really want to. S/he was enjoying winning so much he felt it would be cruel and unnecessary to upend things. Afterwards, Dave sat panting at the base and stared up along its surface. “What do you think is on the other side?” Arnie asked breathlessly. “What do you mean?” “On the other side of this wall. Don’t you wonder what else is out there?” “Out where?” “Out there!” Arnie said again. “What makes you think there’s something else? It looks like the very edge of the dish to me.” Arnie let out a musical sigh. “I know it looks like that. But who says there isn’t more to the world than just the dish?” “You might be a little crazy.” “Maybe. Maybe not. Can you at least admit that it’s possible there is something else out there?” “Like what?” “I don’t know, another dish maybe, with other worms, and maybe they look different than we do.” The very notion unnerved Dave and he suddenly felt frightened. “I don’t think you should say things like that. It’s creepy.” Willa or Gigi, who had been kind of groping and caressing the other said, “We’re gonna go. You comin', Arnie?” Arnie looked at Dave and then back at hers friends. “No, you guys go ahead. We’ll meet up later for karaoke, okay?” “What’s karaoke?” Dave asked. “Whatever,” the other worm—perhaps Gigi—said as they whipped away. Once they were out of earshot, Dave said, “I don’t think they like me very much.” “Don’t worry about them,” Arnie said. “They’re just weird around boys.” “Are you sure you don’t want to go with them?” Dave asked, immediately wishing he hadn’t. “No. It’s fine. They’re fun, but they’re really focused on conjugating like 100 percent of the time.” “Oh. And are you not interested in conjugation?” Dave ventured. “No, I am.” And then, facing Dave, s/he added, “With the right worm.” Dave’s gut granules jumped like popping corn.… Two days later Arnie lay over 900 eggs. Dave beamed. He stopped any worm that passed to brag. Many other worms were also starting families around this time, but most had broods of only 300 or so, self-inseminating being prone to lower yields. Despite their fortunes, Arnie seemed wistful. “What is wrong, my vermiform vixen?” “Nothing.” Dave knew this game. ‘Nothing’ never actually meant an absence of something. It meant that s/he wanted to wait to talk about that something until after s/he’d had more time to process it. Nevertheless, he persisted. “Well, I don’t see how you can be sullen on the happiest day of our lives.” “That’s because you’re an idiot.” “What!?” Dave reeled. “Why would you say that? What have I done?” “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t think you’re stupid.” “Then why did you say it?” Arnie was quiet for a long time. Dave waited. S/he seemed to be choosing her words carefully. “Have you thought about what will happen in just a few more days?” Dave hadn’t. He tried now, but couldn’t conjure much of anything beyond their usual meals, laps of the dish, and the odd philosophical conversations Arnie insisted on having. Arnie continued, “What do you think will happen once the eggs hatch and our children start conjugating?” “We’ll be grandparents.” “And then once our grandchildren start conjugating?” “Great grandparents.” “And what about when our great grandchildren are conjugating?” “Great, great grandparents.” Arnie sighed, sounding exasperated. “And where are we all going to live? What will we eat?” Dave didn’t understand much of what went on in his partner’s head, but this took the cake. “What do you mean? We’ll live here. We’ll eat decaying sludge.” “Don’t you see? This can’t go on forever.” “What can’t?” “This. Our lives.” “Honey, that’s ridiculous. What do you think is going to happen? Suddenly we just won’t be alive anymore?” “Yes!” “Oh.” Dave felt a chill. His partner, so full of energy and vivaciousness when they’d met, suddenly seemed different, much older than he. “But why? Why would we be here, alive, one minute, and then not alive the next?” “I don’t know. I just thought of it. But now I know, I can feel it, that I’m right.” “Jesus. I hope you don’t keep talking like this once the kids hatch. Besides, you don’t know this. You don’t have any proof. It’s just one of your flights of fancy.” “But you don’t have any proof that I’m wrong either. Think about it. We made these babies. They came from my body.” “So?” “So, that means someone made us. We came from someone else’s body.” “Maybe.” “Where else?”Dave hadn’t considered it before. He said nothing.“And so where is that worm, your mother, my mother?” “Look, just because—” “They’re not here.” Dave could feel anger building. He wanted to whip his mate with his tail, and then the very thought made him burn with shame. “I’m going for a slither,” he said, and wriggled away. Around the dish there was much merriment. Larvae were beginning to hatch as the proud parents looked on. Wishes of congratulations came Dave’s way as he passed. Why had s/he done this? Of all days, why would s/he want to spend it thinking about these horrifying ideas? Those first couple days had been so fun, but these last couple, I don’t know. How did s/he become so morbid? Eventually, Dave found himself against the Outer Edge. He continued along the edge for a time, lost in his thoughts, when suddenly he felt himself drifting away from the wall. He fought to keep his body aligned but the pull worsened until he was in a full slide. In the distance he could hear his dishmates calling out in fear as they noticed it, too. At once he set out to find Arnie and his eggs. All around him the other worms toppled and spun as they tried to keep their places. He pressed through knots of worms, calling out for Arnie, but could only hear thousands of worms and larvae doing the same. It was chaos. And then it stopped. Trying to regain dignity, the worms rolled and righted themselves, and went back to their wormy business. “Arnie! Are you okay?” “Yes. Are you?” “I’m fine. How are the children?” “Fine, I think. There are so many it’s hard to know.” “I’m sorry I got angry with you. You scared me. But I hope you know you are the most special worm in the whole dish and I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Arnie hesitated, but then offered, “I’m sorry too. But I’m very tired now, so I must rest.” “Okay. Rest well. I’ll take our children to feed. Goodnight.” “Goodnight.”… Over the next couple of days, Dave noticed more changes in Arnie. S/he seemed exhausted, unable to keep up with him. Her appetite was much worse than it had been and s/he was completely uninterested in conjugation, despite their kids being old enough to have their own kids by now. He wondered if s/he was still having those gloomy daydreams about being not alive, but he found he was too afraid to even ask. He felt he should try to get herm moving, get herm mind off such things. “My ravishing rhabditis, would you care to join me for a slither to the Outer Edge?” Arnie uncoiled and slid around. S/he let out small grunts of effort as she did. “Dearest, I’m afraid I can’t join you right now. I don’t know if I can make it that far.” “That far? It’s only a few centimeters.” “You go ahead. Take the children. I’m going to stay and rest until meal time.” Dave paused to see if s/he would reconsider. Arnie slowly curled back in on hermself and began to snore gently. Several hundred of Dave’s children accompanied him as he made his way to the Outer Edge. They scooted past with great speed and spirit. He noticed how muscular they’d become, already almost the same size as their father. “Dad?” one of them asked as they came parallel to him. “Yes?” “Is mother okay?” “Yes. Why?” “I don’t know. S/he seems not okay.” “In what way?” “S/he seems like she can’t really do the things worms need to do anymore.” “S/he can. S/he’s just tired I guess.” “But why?” “Well, when you give birth to 900 children, get back to me about your energy level.” “I’m a boy. My name’s Brad.” “Are you? I’m sorry. The odds are wildly against it. But my point stands.” “I guess so. But you aren’t tired like that.” “Again, I didn’t have to lay all those eggs. I think it’s different for us men.” “What was mom like before?” “Before what?” “Before we were born?” Dave felt emotions welling inside him. He remembered the first time he’d met herm, how energetic and excited s/he’d been. It was like s/he couldn’t believe how good it felt to be here, even though s/he’d never been anywhere else. And hers questions, hers crazy ideas about Other Space and that stuff about The Hand. S/he was really something. He was lucky, so, so lucky to have met herm. “Your mother is the most wonderful worm I’ve ever met. Do you know what s/he said to me the first time we came to the Outer Edge?” “No.” “S/he said, ‘What do you think is on the other side?’” “Wowww. What did you say?” “I said ‘nothing’. It never occurred to me that there would even be another side.” “But there could be.” “There could be. But so far I’ve never seen anything to back that up.” “And does s/he still believe that?” “Oh, sure. S/he’s very stubborn. Once s/he thinks of something, good luck talking herm out of it.” They went on in silence. Up ahead was a worm Dave recognized. “Hey man, how’s it goin’?” Dave asked. The worm shook and tugged itself around to face Dave. “Oh, you know. Gettin’ by,” the other worm said. “Son, this is How Smoove. He is the best dancer in the whole dish. How, this is my son, Brad.” “Pleased to meet you, man,” he said, his voice little more than a rasp. “Hey, How, show my son that move you made up.” “Sorry, bro. Can’t. Those days are behind me.” “Oh,” Dave said, trying to mask his disappointment. “Well, it was good to see you.” “Take ‘erm easy, bro.” The father and son continued on when Brad finally said, “Dad. How old is that guy?” “He was one of the originals, like me and your mother. He’s my age.” “Whoa. He looks like hell.”… The next morning, Dave woke to the sound of soft weeping. It was Arnie. “Hey. Hey. My unsegmented only, what is it?” “It’s happening.” “What is?” “Some of the other worms. How Smoove. They’re not alive anymore.” “What?” “Everyone says they get very still, then they turn a bright glowing blue, and then they just aren’t alive anymore.” “Are you sure they’re not just sleeping?” “They’re not. They’re not alive. They’re starting to decay. The other worms are eating them.” “Oh my god. What should we do?” “What do you mean?” Dave realized that he didn’t know what he meant. He’d always looked to Arnie for leadership, but now s/he seemed so exhausted. S/he wheezed as she spoke. S/he looked like she might stop being alive any moment. “Come on,” he said, “you need to eat to get your strength back.” But Arnie didn’t follow. “Come on,” he said again, but again s/he refused to move. “Fine. I’ll bring something back.” “Dave.” “What?” “I’m sorry.” “For what?” “I’m sorry,” she whispered. All around worms wailed as their loved ones stopped being alive. A strange aura of blue would appear at the perimeters of the crowd every now and then and a fresh set of cries would erupt. It was like living in a nightmare. Dave pressed on. If he could just get to the food he felt he could save Arnie’s life. That was the problem. It seemed obvious now. S/he hadn’t been eating well enough. S/he needed some food and then s/he’d be fine. Lugging the decaying matter, Dave reversed his movements to propel himself backwards. It was hard work and each micrometer felt like an inch. At last he was back among the worms he recognized as his children, his grand children, his great grand children. But no Arnie. “Arnie?” He spun around, calling out, but s/he didn’t answer. “Where are you? You need to eat.” “Dad?” It was Brad. “What?” “Mom’s gone.” “Well, where’d s/he go? Show me.” “No, I mean s/he’s gone. S/he’s stopped being alive.” “What?” “Right here. S/he became very still and then turned bright blue and then s/he wasn’t alive anymore.” “No.” “I’m sorry, Dad.” “No.”… On it went like that for Dave. Every few days there’d be another dishquake, and then many of the worms would stop being alive. He watched as his children and his children’s children and their children too would grow older until they stopped being alive. Not everyone of course. Some of the originals continued to be alive. Willa and Gigi were still around, much to his dismay. But overall a very large percentage of the worms would come and go in a span of only two weeks or so, while Dave just lived on, eating and slithering like before. He couldn’t make sense of it, nor did he try that much. After all, he was just a worm, and not a smart one like Arnie had been. Instead he tried to forget. There were other lovers—Casey and Susan and Angie and three different Sarahs—and many, many more children, but none of the joy that he’d had with Arnie. Plus they all stopped being alive soon afterward. After a while word got around that Dave and some of the others were special. The news of his longevity became legendary; especially once the fact of one day not living became well known and accepted. Indeed, Dave could now spot whether a worm would be soon not living by about day 5 or 6 of their life, just by how quickly they moved or how shiny their collagen. “You’re so lucky. How did you do it?” they’d ask him. But he didn’t know. He’d eaten the same food as all the others. He’d gone for the same slithers. He’d mated. He’d slept. There wasn’t any one thing that was special about him. Except one day he thought of something that Arnie had said to him. “How did you get the name Dave?” “I don’t know. It’s just my name.” “Yes, but where did it come from?” “Where did yours come from?” “I made mine up. You were there. Remember?” “But your other name, RNAi318v0, where did that come from?” “I’m not sure.” “See?” “But don’t you think that’s weird?” “What is?” “That most of us have these names, these weird long names, but you don’t.” “Maybe I just forgot my other name?” “Did you?” “How should I know?” “You can’t have forgotten it. You’re only three days old.” “Okay. So what?” “So, why is everyone else named some random sequence of numbers and you’re just called Dave.” “Lucky I guess.” “Maybe.” “Why do you think?” he asked. “I’m not sure.” S/he shimmied absentmindedly, something s/he did when she was thinking hard. “But maybe it has something to do with The Hand. Maybe The Hand wanted it this way.” “Oh boy.” Arnie ignored him and continued. “Maybe The Hand made us different on purpose, and the way The Hand could keep track of our differences was by our names.” “Assuming there is a Hand that is overseeing our lives like you say, why would it do that? Wouldn’t The Hand want everyone to be equal and have all the best qualities?” “Maybe. But not if it wanted to do a comparison.” At once, Dave dashed away to the Outer Edge. There he found Willa and Gigi, lithe and lissome, behaving as lasciviously as ever. “Hey, pardon me, but what are your names?” “Uh, Willa and Gigi. Duh.” “Okay, I know, but what are your real names?” “What are you talking about?” “I think he’s high.” “I’m not high. I just need to know if you had different names before?” “No way. Our names are awesome and no other names would ever be as amazing as these names. So go away now before I stop being alive of boredom from talking to you.” Dave wandered away along the wall. S/he’d been right. He now knew something about their names was predictive of how long they would be alive. But how? Why?… “Dave?” “Yes?” “Hi. Can I ask you something?” “Okay.” “You’re one of the originals, right?” “Yes.” “I heard you’ve been alive for more than twenty generations. Is that true?” “Something like that.” “What’s it like?” “Being alive?” “Being alive for so long. Are you happy? Pardon me for saying so but you don’t seem happy.” Dave didn’t feel happy. “I guess not.” “Why not?” “I miss certain worms that stopped being alive.” “But there are still other worms around. Even other originals.” “I know.” “So why does that not make you happy?” “Let me ask you something. Are you happy, sliding around here with all these other worms, knowing that in just a few more days you’re not going to be alive anymore? Doesn’t that frighten you? Doesn’t that make you want to give up?” “No.” “Why not?” “Because it’s all there is. I’m alive now, so I should try to enjoy it.” “And if you were like me, and you kept living and living, do you think you would still enjoy it?” “I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not as much.” “Why?” The little worm sat and thought about this. Dave waited. Finally s/he said, “Because there has to be balance. We can’t only experience the good. We have to experience the bad too. Otherwise we can’t really know what good is.”… One day Dave woke and found he no longer had an appetite. He’d been slowing down for several weeks, taking shorter laps, sleeping more. But now he felt certain of something. He too would soon not be alive. He thought about this. Was he scared? He was not. He’d watched thousands of others stop being alive. They didn’t appear to suffer. Nothing scary happened to them. They just stopped, like the deepest of sleeps. The idea thrilled him. He tried to think of how long he’d been alive now, but it had become impossible to keep track after a while. He’d lost count. He tried to think of what else he might like to do with himself while he was still not not alive, but he couldn’t think of anything. He’d already done it all, and done it plenty. Finally he settled on one last visit to the Outer Edge. At the Edge he was passed by mothers, fathers, their larvae. They raced and writhed and wrestled as their siblings egged them on. Worms greeted him warmly as they went by. He responded. He was very tired now. He felt compelled to sit against the wall. And as he did a great peace came over him and began to warm his body from mouth to rectum. He felt as though he was sinking into the floor and there was nothing he could do to stop it, but this feeling was wonderful. He felt glad. He felt good. In the distance he heard larvae singing: Row row row your boat
Gently down the stream
Merrily merrily merrily merrily
Life is but a dream
That’s so true, he thought.John Photos is a man of few talents. Like two maybe. I mean, he’s nice and all but where does that get you anymore? And by the way, he’s not all that nice. I just felt compelled to say that. Maybe I should start over.
John Photos is taller than he looks. For some reason, people think he’s kind of short but he’s not. He’s actually a little above average and has, on numerous occasions, helped smaller women get canned goods down from the top shelves of grocery stores. Because they asked him to, not because he was showing off or anything. He’s currently studying anesthesia in the Boston area.
