Game Over

Chapter 42





DEPENDING ON THE movie, Godzilla is seldom depicted as much bigger than two hundred and fifty feet tall. The Amitabha Buddha statue at Ushiku is almost four hundred feet tall, and that’s not counting the base he stands on.

To give you some perspective, that means that it’s more than twice the height of the Statue of Liberty; it also has a place in the Guinness World Records. Yeah, it’s that ginormous.

Also suffice it to say the Pleionid wasn’t content to meet me someplace convenient like a snack bar, ticket booth, or even in the viewing room located in the chest of the statue. No, my ultracamouflage little quarry went straight to the top—crawling like the world’s fastest and most purposeful oil slick up the exterior of the colossus, all the way to the head, where it proceeded to lodge itself in the statue’s left ear. I watched and watched (and kept checking the hacked tracking device) until it appeared that the Pleionid had finally stopped running.

Now I just needed to figure out how to get up into the Buddha’s left ear without making the local news and the Facebook pages of every camera-wielding tourist on the grounds. Which basically ruled out sprouting wings like Maximum Ride, leaping like Superman, scaling the statue like Spiderman, or laying the statue down on its side like the Hulk.

So I ended up doing the tourist thing and rode as high as the attendant-driven elevator would take me: up into the statue’s slit-windowed chest. From there, it was only modestly difficult to duck behind a display and do my tried-and-true butterfly trick. I flitted under the door marked WORKERS ONLY and soon found myself inside the cavernous, girder-spanned interior of the statue.

The statue’s ears were open to the outside, although chicken wire had been put across them to keep birds and bats from roosting inside. That didn’t stop the Pleionid, though. Without breaking the screen, it had somehow crossed through. Another trick I’d love to figure out.

“Danaus plexippus,” it said simply.

“What the—?” I said, with my typical articulateness.

“Your species of butterfly, Alien Hunter,” it replied, its voice disarmingly rich and wise-sounding. “But why don’t you turn yourself back into your human form. Your insect voice is hard for me to discern with the wind blowing up here.”

Oh, yeah. I forgot I was a butterfly. I turned myself back into my human form and looked down at the big-eyed, furry-skinned creature.

“Sorry for all the running,” it said.

“No big deal,” I replied, although I realized as I collapsed to the cool bronze floor that I was pretty darn sore from that little chase. “I’m thinking of taking up cross-country in the fall.”

“Cross-country?”

“Running for school. It’s a sport. You run outside.”

“Ah, well,” it said. “Now I have a sense for your ‘cross-country’ abilities. That was one reason why I had you chase me. To make sure that you were indeed the Alien Hunter. But also I needed to teach you something.”

“Teach me?”

“Yes, Alien Hunter, teach you. My time is short. And we must ensure that yours is not.”

“But you’re safe for now. Why can’t we just get you away from here, someplace where they can’t find you?”

“As should be quite obvious from the fact that I am the very last, we Pleionids don’t live forever. Now, give me your hand.”

I laid my hand in its hand, thinking this couldn’t possibly be a trap—and it wasn’t. But what happened next was the last possible thing I would have expected.

My mind was bathed in color, light, shapes, motions, incredible beauty, unbearable sadness, and—most of all—an amazing depth of understanding I’d never experienced before.

Suddenly, I saw how Pleionids had harnessed the chemistry of pleiochromatech to change shape, to make themselves practically invisible, to squeeze through tiny crevices, to radiate color, to share thoughts by touch. Most stunning of all, it gave me a glimpse of the true beauty of our universe—and of the horror of the threats that face it.

In short, it gave me the biggest mojo download of my whole life.

“Wh-wha—”

“Don’t say a word,” it urged, smiling up at me faintly and pulling its hand away. “I have to go now. And this time, don’t follow, okay?”

My mind was still wading through a newfound sea of light and knowledge, and all I could do was nod and stutter my thanks.

“Don’t forget the good, Daniel,” the Pleionid said. “And now, if you would, please duck!”