I Wish I Knew More About Brain Slugs

The Exodus introduced at least three hundred species into Earth's biosphere, not counting potentially thousands of bacteria and viruses. Fifty-three of these species are designated as sapient. The majority of these extraterrestrial species come from worlds biologically similar to or compatible with Earth; being carbon-based and oxygen-dependent, with a handful of exceptions that can only survive in Earth's most **** environments or artificial biomes. Among the most adaptable species are parasitoids such as the North American Brain Slug, the Great Horned Brain Slug, and the Brain Bats.
—National Geographic Field Guide to Extraterrestrial Species of North America, Chapter 1

At midnight Pacific Standard Time, the Cosmic Fill-Up's computer shifted the Valentine's Day stock to sale prices. However, the actual prices had to be stickered over by hand. That was Mel's morning, running the sticker gun over heart-shaped boxes of mediocre candy and small stuffed animals with plastic hearts that said things when you hugged them.

Valentine's Day was still a hypothetical experience for Mel. Growing up in an orphanage, dating hadn't been a serious option. Sure, there had been girls his age, but no money and, gangly and shy as he was, no interest. High school, acne, and a the looming dread of adulthood and getting kicked out had put a halt on any romantic plans.

He briefly considered buying some of the chocolate. It was on sale. Just as a treat. Most of his life, chocolate was an occasional little treat at Halloween or Christmas. The idea that he was a grown up now and could just blow his money on chocolate and eat, like, an entire box ran through Mel's head. It was tempting, but also a luxury which he would barely be able to afford.

Better to wait, Mel thought to himself.

Jordan, Soong, and Blair ate together. The three of them sat together, each bringing something different to the table, and Mel watched as they split their meals up and shared with each other. Tomie and Bobbie sat at their own table, and did much the same. At first, Mel couldn't figure out why. Then Ha-Yoon elbowed him in the ribs.

"Don't stare," the manager said. She took a sip from a non-alcoholic Chinese beer called Qingdao. "Those three are the Seacouver Hive. The others are part of the Greater Pacific Northwest Collective. Different subspecies or something, different organization. They can talk to each other, coexist peacefully, but don't mingle much since they're basically competing for hosts."

Mel blinked, remembering last night's reading. He took a bite out of his burrito and tried to use his peripheral vision. Tomie's slug was just visible, with white spots and much more prominent antennae than Jordan or Soong's brain slug.

"Guess I never thought about brain slugs having politics or ethnicities," he said.

"It's more fundamental than that, I think," Ha-Yoon said. "Like dogs and wolves. The Seacouver Hive has been faster to adapt. They were the ones really pushing for legalization. The Collective is—I guess you'd say, more conservative? Traditionalist, maybe. A lot of the hosts you see still on the street are Collectivists. They tend to form their own structures, group homes, that kind of thing; but the Seacouver Hive seems to be trying to integrate with human society, thanks to the whole government subsidy program."

Mel thought about that as he ate. It was weird, now that he thought about it, that Jordan and Soong would have apartments right across from each other instead of just putting them together. That had to be deliberate on somebody's part. Not for the first time, he tried to wrap his head around the idea that Jordan wasn't an individual, but just part of a bigger macro-organism. He was her roommate, but also a data point in some vast alien entity's attempt to integrate with human society. Like getting individual brain cells to make friends.

There was a break in the rain as Mel, Jordan, and Soong headed home. The air was cool, with a bit of a breeze that felt great on Mel's skin. They were maybe five blocks from the apartment building when he saw it. Out between a pair of trash cans. A chest of drawers. Four long drawers, with little brass knobs and four stout legs. The top of the chest was scratched and stained, pale wood showing through the old varnish. Except it was real wood, with a definite grain, not any particle board.

Mel stopped and looked over it. Jordan and Soong stopped when they realized he wasn't walking with them any more. He looked all over it—there was no sign of mold or insect damage that he could see. No scent of cat pee or tobacco. He opened up each drawer and checked inside. They were clean, empty, dry. He pulled out one drawer entirely, reached in, and lifted.

It was heavy, yet manageable. Perfect.

"Hey," he asked Jordan and Soong. "Can you two carry a couple drawers? I think I can carry this."

The two brain-slug hosts stared at him. Yet they ceased holding hands and held out their arms.

Five blocks. Mel was sweating by the end of the first. People on the sidewalk saw what he was doing and made a little room for them as they passed. He rested at every traffic light, grateful that the sidewalk was dry. If it had been raining, this would have been a bust. As it was, by the time the trio arrived at the apartment building, Mel was swearing, muscles in his shoulders and arms burning.

They took the elevator today. Mel hadn't looked forward to trying to haul the chest up five flights of stairs. When they got in the hallway, they saw Antonio, still in his chef's whites, looking tired, carrying cloth bags full of cardboard containers that smelled amazing. Probably leftovers from the restaurant. He raised an eyebrow as he saw the three of them make their way down toward the door. Then he smiled.

"Nice," he said, not lending a hand as Jordan unlocked the door and the three of them slid the chest through the door.

Mel set it against the wall. He wiped the sweat from his head, heart hammering, unreasonably excited as the women slid the drawers into place. Grinned like an idiot at the achievement. It was the first piece of furniture that hadn't come with the apartment. The first item that wasn't government-issued. That helped make this space their own.

At the orphanage, that kind of nesting had been important, but fragile. Orphans didn't accumulate many possessions. Mel had known kids who carved their names into furniture, drew on ceilings with stolen sharpies, anything to mark their territory. He wondered how brain slugs did that. Probably something involving scent markers. Mel chuckled to himself at the sudden image of a naked Jordan rubbing herself against the edge of the chest to mark it as her own.

"We'll share it," Mel said to Jordan. "You can put your clothes into these drawers, and I'll put mine into these. No more putting everything on the floor."

Together, Jordan and Soong gave a thumb's up with their left hands.

The moment was shattered when Antonio leaned in the door.

"Hey, Spicy. Come get dinner. Extra sauce, just like you like," he said. Mel had heard about leers, but hadn't really seen one until he saw Antonio look at Soong. There was something in the eyes, the twist of the mouth when he said "sauce" that made Mel's stomach twist. He wanted to grab Soong's arm and tell her she could eat here...

...but she was already moving, back to her own apartment, her own roommate.

Jordan was already moving to her room, and returned with a stack of folded clothes. Mel wiped more sweat from his forehead, feeling sticky, and peeled off his shirt. The triumph of his one-man's-trash-is-another-man's-treasure suddenly sour in his mouth. He ran his hand over the rough top. Maybe with the next paycheck he'd get some sandpaper, or furniture polish—they hadn't taught him anything about furniture restoration in high school, but he could learn.

Mel watched as Jordan filled her drawers, thinking about having his shower tonight instead of in the morning. Then jolted as she began to peel off her clothes, her blue work shirt carefully folded and put away. By the time she unbuttoned her work pants, Mel had managed to close his mouth and look away. She moved with a careful economy of motion, face locked in the same expression, not even looking at Mel as bra, panties, and socks were doffed.

He was acutely aware of the tip of his dick trying to peek out the waistband of his work pants, and turned around as his now-naked roommate took her dirty underclothes back into her room, presumably to place in the dirty laundry basket. Mel felt his heart hammer in a way very different than when he had carried the chest of drawers home. A pulse that he could feel in his temples and his balls.

Carefully, he dropped his eyes to the floor to avoid staring at his now-naked roommate as he went to get clean clothes for a shower.

Did she do that because I took off my shirt? Mel wondered. Did she think that made it okay? Or...fuck, I wish I knew more about brain slugs!

Which was swiftly becoming the mantra of his life.