The Lives of Tao

CHAPTER SIX

FIRST CONTACT



Music blared from the radio. Tao woke with a start and listened to the very annoying sound. If pain was a sensation a Quasing could feel, he knew he would be in some right now. The music was so loud he couldn’t make out the tune, not that it mattered. Tao was not well versed with most of the musical genres of the past half century. Edward’s taste had centered on baroque, which irritated Tao no end. He had more than his fill of baroque music since, well, the baroque era. Musical choice, unfortunately, was never his. Therefore, he took special interest in the musical taste of new hosts, knowing he would be at their mercy for that lifetime.

Getting rid of that alarm clock would be one of the first things he made Roen do after they had officially established contact. That thing just ground on Tao’s nerves. Worse yet, Sleeping Beauty here let it blare for up to half an hour sometimes before finally dragging himself out of bed to turn it off.

Tao had bided his time and studied his new host now for nearly two weeks. He almost introduced himself during the attempted mugging, but thought better of it – since at that time, he didn’t know enough about Roen to properly make contact with him. Since then, he watched the man live his completely stifling life over and over again, one repetitive day at a time. It was so consistent that Roen even complained about the same things at the same times every day. As far as Tao was concerned, that Peter fellow sitting next to him at work was a saint for putting up with all this. Today would be different, though. Tao was going to start fixing his host and prepare him for what lay ahead.

Roen stirred and turned over, pulling the blanket over his head, muttering something about the television and burying himself deeper under the covers. The radio continued for another twenty minutes before Roen finally did something about it. With an irritated hiss, he rolled out of bed and dragged himself to the desk. He slammed the snooze button and looked at the clock: 7.30am. “I got an hour,” he yawned. He lumbered back to bed and collapsed onto the mattress, burrowing a hole under the messy layer of blankets. Ten minutes later, the music came back as loud and annoying as ever.

Tao couldn’t think of a more miserable way to start the day. Amazingly, it failed to stir his hibernating host. He waited for Roen to shut it off again, but the man did not stir. How did anyone sleep through this? Tao’s patience began to wear thin. While technically time was something he had an infinite supply of, he was not a very patient Quasing. At last, unable to stand the ruckus anymore, Tao ever so casually moved his semi-conscious host’s arm and pulled the blanket off his face. Roen rolled over, mumbled something incomprehensible, and pulled the blanket back over his face.

Are you serious? Tao immediately regretted the outburst.

Roen still didn’t move. He slept like a rock! This was not a good trait for a soldier. The man was like a hibernating bear and could probably sleep through a firefight. After another ten minutes, Tao had had enough. This wasn’t the best way to initiate first contact, but with this host, the sooner the better. Anything else just delayed the inevitable. Roen rolled to his other side, still sound asleep.

Roen Tan!

“Five more minutes,” Roen whimpered.

You are going to be late for work.

“Come on, just five more minutes.”

Just who do you think you are talking to?

Roen was about to say something else, when he hesitated and opened his eyes. His eyes shifted back and forth and he crawled out of the mess of blankets inch by inch, looking under his pillow and checking under the bed for anything strange. With a perplexed look, he shut off the alarm, yawned, and walked to the bathroom where he splashed water on his face and brushed his teeth. Afterward, he patted his cheeks a few times and studied his reflection in the mirror.

“Hey, what’s up? You want some of this?” Roen waved his hands over his head as if he was brandishing the bottles again. This was a daily routine he’d been doing ever since that night. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Give me your money!” He swung his arms in the air. It was a laughable scene, though Tao was pleased that Roen had recovered from the incident enough to be light-hearted about it. He had spent the first week paranoid, frightened, and unsure of his sanity.

But as the week went on, his new host began to enjoy retelling the story to anyone who would listen, embellishing it more and more each time he told it. By yesterday, he took on three men, was bouncing off the walls, and was throwing bottles as if they were shurikens.

At least he had a good attitude about it. One of Tao’s old hosts, a certain French general during the American Revolutionary War, used to mope for days after a battle. Tao had trained that out of him real fast.

Another positive from that night was Roen’s reaction during the mugging. Even when terrified, he took direction surprisingly well under stress. That was a very important quality that could not always be trained. It was a good trait to have in an agent. And grudgingly, Tao had to admit that Roen was brave as well. Not many people these days would blindly follow orders and charge into battle. That characteristic had good and bad points. Still, it was a trait Tao found useful.

“No voices today, right?” Roen continued his morning re-enactment. “You can’t handle this!” He gestured at his large body. After nearly two minutes of dancing in front of the mirror, Roen winked at himself and completed his ritual. Walking back into his room, he looked at the clock and shouted, “Damn that alarm clock! I’m going to be late again!” He hurried to his closet and studied the scattered clothes lying around. Then he looked at the floor and picked up the same pair of pants he wore yesterday. He sniffed them to make sure they passed the smell test and then put them on.

You wore those yesterday. They are dirty. Tao injected that sentence very subtly. Dirty pants were not a great subject for an introduction, but how could Roen even consider walking outside with those on?

Roen stopped, one leg in a pant-leg. He turned to his left and then to his right. He looked up at the ceiling and then back down at his pants. “No voices, no voices,” he whispered. Then he looked down at his pants. “Damn, they really are dirty,” he muttered. He spit on his hand and rubbed at the stains and wrinkles left from a previous lunch mishap. He was about to throw them into the laundry hamper when he noticed that it had long since overflowed. Roen looked up at the clock again. “Oh, hell with it,” he muttered as he snatched the nearest pair of pants in arm’s reach and rushed out the door.



Roen rubbed his eyes and tried to stifle the yawn escaping his lips. Three hours at work in the War Room – listening to person after person drone on about statistics this, stress tests that, and control variables something – was more than he could take. Every fifteen minutes, someone would ask him to stop this transaction, start that script, bounce those servers, or check some data. It was unbearable! Most of the requests were met with a sullen “Sure,” “OK,” or “Whatever.”

When he wasn’t working, he passed the time doodling in a notebook, drawing little pictures of animals, stars, and smiley faces. Occasionally, Roen would get ambitious and try to draw a symmetrical polygon. After he tired of geometric shapes, he turned the page and settled on a new artistic endeavor. When he finished, he beamed at the picture of a plump donkey wearing a suit and carrying a briefcase. He drew some word balloons over its head and wrote out the caption, “I am what I do.”

Then why do you do it?

Roen stopped, the pen falling from his hand. The words bounced around in his head, repeating eerily over and over as they sank into the pit of his stomach.

“Why do I do what?” He said those words very slowly.

Do what you are doing.

Roen leaped out of his chair, knocking his chair over and looking wide-eyed around the room. Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at him. “Peter, did you say something just now about what I’m doing?” Roen asked, stark panic in his voice.

Peter frowned. “Did I what?”

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

“I don’t know either. You lost me, man,” Peter shook his head and gave Roen his Dalai Lama look. “You all right?”

Tell them no and that you are quitting.

“That! Did you just say that?”

Peter’s look became one of concern. “You look sick, Roen. Maybe you should get some fresh air.”

“I... I...”

...quit. I am walking out of here and never coming back.

“...be right back. I have to step outside for a moment.”

Roen practically tripped over himself as he fled and bolted for the restroom. He ran into one of the stalls and locked it. Sitting on the toilet, he took deep breaths and tried to clear his thoughts. The voice was happening again. Was it him saying these things, or was something saying these things to him... from him? What was going on?

“Oh no, not again. I must have done something last night, like I did that other night when it happened. What did I do the same? That’s it! I had pizza both nights, and this is some sort of crazy allergic reaction.”

Really, Roen Tan? Do you actually think pizza makes you hear voices? Because technically, you had pizza six times in the past two weeks, and I did not talk to you any of those other times. So calm down, and let me explain.

Roen froze. That last bit was definitely not him, or was it? He just didn’t know anymore. “I’m going crazy. That, or I have a conscience that has somehow detached itself from my conscious mind, like an active conscious subconscious. That’s not good, I think. Well, crazy people don’t think they’re crazy. So if that’s true, and I think I’m crazy, then I must not be going crazy. But if I decide that I’m not crazy, that only enforces the theory that crazy people don’t think they’re crazy, and I’m actually crazy. So should I think I’m crazy or not?”

Your circular logic is quite dizzying.

Roen stood up and stamped his feet. “What the hell is going on?”

Sit back down. Better yet, leave. I would rather not discuss this in a urinal.

“Who are you? Was that you that other night? Are you that bald guy I saw in my head?” Roen hissed out loud.

No need to speak out loud. I can hear your thoughts just fine.

“OK, who are you?” Roen felt weird thinking to himself like this.

This is a bit complicated. But first, let me assure you that insanity is the least of your concerns. And yes, it was me that night helping with the mugger. That bald man was Oenomaus, a great gladiator that once defeated me. It is complicated. Care to go for a stroll?

“Why?”

Because sitting in a park talking this over is much more pleasant than conversing over a toilet. Besides, I have not seen Millennium Park yet. I hear it is quite lovely.

“But I have to go back to my meeting.”

We need to talk about that too. Why are you working at a job you hate?

“I have rent and...”

Yes, yes, and a cat. Listen, Roen Tan, you might be hallucinating and possibly insane. I think right now that meeting is the least of your concerns.

“Didn’t you just say I wasn’t insane?”

Just putting a little perspective on your priorities.

The voice had a point. Roen opened the stall door a crack and peeked out. He tiptoed out of the restroom, looking both ways as he crept down the hall like he was Jack Maclean robbing the Smithsonian.

That is not necessary. Act natural.

Roen stood up as straight as he could and waddled like a robot toward the elevator.

I said natural.

“I’m trying! Besides, my natural reaction is to run screaming and hide under my desk.”

You would not fit under it.

“Hey!”

My apologies. That was not appropriate.

Roen pushed the down button and waited, his foot nervously tapping the floor. When it arrived, he walked in and began pacing in circles as the elevator sped down.

Stop it. Relax.

“I’m sorry. It’s a bad habit I have when I get nervous.”

There is nothing to be nervous about. Please believe that.

“So, why did you start talking to me that night?”

I saw that you were in trouble and helped you the best I could. Now, go outside and get some fresh air. We have much to discuss.

The elevator reached the ground floor and Roen practically fled the building, running as fast as his stubby legs would go. Feeling faint, he slowed down and made his way across the street toward Grant Park. It was a cloudless, beautiful day, not at all the sort of day he expected to learn that he was clinically insane.

Roen shaded his eyes from the sun as he crossed the intersection. The streets were bustling with people strolling about enjoying the afternoon. Birds chirped and a calm cool breeze brushed against his skin. Roen, stressed and exercise challenged, was wheezing by the time he reached a warm open walkway next to several beds of flowers.

Find a nice bench. Enjoy the day.

Roen avoided the sunny paths, choosing to stay in the shade under the tall trees and thickets. He passed a row of bushes to a quiet part of the park and sat down on a bench. He looked up at the sky and decided to move to the shaded bench on the other side of the path.

You dislike the sun?

“I sweat easily, and it’s bad for my skin.”

And eating frozen pizzas is good for your complexion? We can get into that later. Let me introduce myself. My name is Tao, and I am from a race of aliens known as the Quasing. I assure you, you are not crazy and not talking to yourself. I am a calm, rational, benevolent being, and I... we need your help.

“My help?”

Yes. My kind has been on this planet for a long time. We have survived for millions of years through the natural inhabitants on this planet. I have chosen you as my new host. This is both a blessing and a curse.

Roen stood up and began to pace again. “Curse? Wait, you’re an alien? I think I’d rather just be crazy.”

I have been watching you, and I feel that you are a worthy host.

“What? Really? Are you sure you’re talking to the right person?”

Pause. Yes, I am. Sit back down. I can tell you are melting like Frosty without his top hat here. You will probably want to be sitting when I tell you everything anyway.

Roen moved under a large tree and held his head in his hands. Then he leaned back against the rough bark of the trunk and closed his eyes. This was simply too fantastic. He fought the urge to check himself into a hospital; hospital visits were expensive. Supposedly, people could hallucinate if they had a tumor in their head.

You would rather me be a tumor than an actual alien?

“Neither are exactly great choices. I mean, how did you get here? What’re you doing here?”

Our ship was passing near your system when it was caught in a meteor shower. Its cocoon was damaged and unable to regenerate. Dying, the ship steered us toward your planet, hoping to survive long enough to land. However, your atmosphere petrified its outer membrane as we entered Earth’s orbit and the ship broke into several pieces. Our kind was scattered all over the planet. The devastation was massive and caused severe climate changes to your environment.

“Wait, you caused the Ice Age?”

Yes, we indirectly killed the dinosaurs.

“That’s impossible. That must have happened millions of years ago!”

Roughly sixty-five, give or take a million.

“OK, I’ll bite, so how did you survive the crash? Didn’t everything die?”

Most of our kind was killed in the crash. Several thousand of us survived the impact in the harder petrified sections of the membranes. We were scattered to the winds. The survivors learned early on that we could survive through the indigenous creatures by inhabiting them, like I am with you. Over the years, we have moved from host to host. As each host died, we found another, eventually moving from the dinosaurs to the first mammals.

“That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard. So you guys were in dinosaurs; then, did you all get together in your dinosaur bodies and build dinosaur cities?”

You are getting a little carried away. We were cut off from each other for the first several million years. The early animals were too primitive for us to communicate with. It was not until the evolution of the primates that communication between survivors was first established.

Over the course of many years, we individually gravitated toward primates, having discovered that they were evolving at a faster rate. That and having opposable thumbs helped a great deal. They were also more easily influenced and less instinctual. Eventually, two Quasing inhabiting primates of the same tribe began to communicate. You will find that many primate rituals were actually ancient Quasing methods of communication. After that, it became a slow process of gathering all the survivors together.

“Oh, this makes perfect sense now. Million year-old geriatric aliens. How do you stay alive for so long? What’s your secret?”

Technically, we self-reproduce, similar to how amoebas on your planet reproduce. Over the course of time, we continually regenerate, sustaining ourselves from the nutrients of our hosts.

“So you’re a parasite?”

We like to think of it as symbiotic, but we can discuss biology another time.

“Discuss? I feel like a schizophrenic talking to myself. You know, crazy people don’t know...”

I have already heard your theory on conscious insanity.

“Fine. Prove that I’m not the mayor of Cuckoo’s Nest.”

All right. What if I ask you something that you do not know? Would that satisfy you?

Roen nodded.

What is the capital of old Assyria?

Roen frowned. “Is this a Monty Python question?”

No, this is not. What is the capital of old Assyria?

“I must have missed that episode on Jeopardy. I didn’t know there was an old and new Assyria.”

Assur. I was there when it was destroyed. Look that up if you like. And since there is no way you could have known that, how could you know that now unless someone else told you?

“I guess...” Roen sounded anything but sure. “Let’s say I’m not crazy and you are whatever you say you are. What if I don’t want you here? How do I get rid of you?”

We can only leave a host upon its death.

“What?!”

You have to die for me to get out. Trust me, sometimes we wish we could just leave voluntarily. It would make things a lot easier for us. If it gives you any comfort, I am as stuck with you as you are with me.

“I’m really not comforted here. But, assuming I believe you, which I don’t, if your kind has been here for millions of years, what do you want with me?”

We want to go home, Roen.

“Go home? But if what you’re saying is true, which I still don’t buy, why...”

Can you just take this at face value for a moment?

“Fine. You seem to be very advanced aliens. Why don’t you just build another ship? You’ve had all this time to do it.”

We cannot live in your atmosphere. Our way of existence is vastly different from yours. The gases and environment we need to survive are not indigenous to this world. That is why we need hosts. We cannot recreate technology from our home world. In fact, the ships we used to travel through space are bred, not built. That is something we cannot do here. We have to make do with what this planet has to offer.

Our plan is to utilize the intelligent creatures of this planet to one day take us home. When it became apparent that humans were becoming the dominant species, we pinned our hopes on humans to carry us into space. Over the course of centuries, we have guided humans to greatness in order to further advance your evolution. You will find that a number of history’s greatest figures had a Quasing helping them along the way.

“Really? Like who?”

Socrates, Alexander, Napoleon, Washington, Churchill, Roosevelt, Einstein, Bill Gates, Steve Jobs – just to name a few. You will find that more often than not, almost every great figure had our help.

“You guys were in Jobs?”

Let us just say that Steve was not as brilliant as everyone made him out to be.

“And you’re going to make me great as well?”

You will make yourself as great as you want you to be.

A stiff breeze snapped Roen out of their conversation and he shivered. Looking up, he saw a mass of clouds rolling in from the east. He must have been sitting here for a while now. Roen stood up, stretched his legs, and strolled down the walkway. This was his first time at the park, even though he worked just across the street.

His mind raced as he tried to digest everything he just heard. Any one of these people nearby could have an alien in them. Roen looked around as couples walked by hand-in-hand with small children running around. They could have been there all along and he wouldn’t know. It could be anyone! He walked by the giant silver kidney bean sculpture and watched curiously as his body shape contorted against the reflective metal. His face appeared as alien as he felt right now.

“This is nuts,” he muttered. “I’m just going crazy. It’s the only rational explanation.”

I thought we were making headway. What is the problem now?

“The problem is...” Roen said aloud and stopped when an elderly couple walked past and looked his way.

Remember, inside voice.

He turned away from them and hunched over. “The problem is that I don’t believe you. The story you’re telling me is ridiculous. Aliens, millions of years old, in my brain... that’s just crazy. I must be just stressed out from work, or maybe that pizza gave me food poisoning, or hell, maybe it’s residual guilt from my last breakup eight years ago. Whatever my excuse is, it’s more rational than having some alien living inside me. Ockham’s Razor, man, Ockham’s Razor.”

Pluralitas non est ponenda sine necessitate.

“Uh... what?”

Ockham’s Razor. That is what it means. William of Ockham was one of our people. We used its interpretation to hide our existence when hosts went insane and gave us away.

Roen threw his hands up. “What the hell! Is everyone in on this but me? Am I like the last person in the world not to have my own personal alien?”

Like I said, we tend to occupy positions of influence.

“So what do I get out of this? Can I get superpowers? Will I fly? Could I climb walls? Do I need a secret identity like Clark Kent or Peter Parker?”

Well, as long as I am alive, your memories will be with me. In a way, you become almost immortal. And as with my previous hosts, you have all their memories and skills at your disposal.

“Is that it?”

There was another long silence before Tao finally spoke. Are you serious? You mean having an ancient all-wise being at your disposal is not enough? A thousand lifetimes of knowledge and wisdom is not sufficient to turn you into some semblance of a capable human being? Have you not ever heard that knowledge is power? You have in you one of the wisest minds on this planet and that is not enough for you?

“Well, since you put it that way,” Roen grumbled. “You didn’t have to be mean about it. It would be nice though if I got some sort of power.”

Well, I apologize, but I will not be able to accommodate you.

“You don’t have to be sarcastic.”

I just think you should be more appreciative.

“You know, for an extraterrestrial, you act awfully human-like.”

We were not always this way. When we first arrived, our personalities were very alien compared to how we are now. Our relationship with humans is symbiotic. You influence us just as much as we influence you. Over the course of time, we became more human in our reactions and our thoughts.

“Will I become more alien?”

Hardly. I have interacted with humans for thousands of years. You will have interacted with us for only your lifetime. It is a little different.

“So, that’s it, huh? You and I are stuck together, and we have to make like two peas in a pod. Is there anything else?”

There was another pause before Tao spoke. There is more we need to discuss, but I believe this is sufficient for today. You should get back to your meeting. They will be missing you.

Roen looked at his watch and cursed. “Crap, I’ve been gone for an hour! I’m in so much trouble!” He raced back to his office as fast as he could, huffing and puffing by the time he reached the War Room. Trying to act as casual as possible, he sat back into his chair and shrank from the scowls coming his way.

“Where have you been?” Peter hissed, the serene Dalai Lama demeanor shattered. “We could use some help figuring out this java dump.”

“I wasn’t feeling well,” Roen said stiffly.

“Well, get better fast or we’ll be here all night.” Peter pushed a stack of printouts toward him.

Roen grimaced at the pages of garble and held in a sigh. “Great, I’m going to be here forever.”

It is only a java dump. It should not take that long to figure out.

“Well, it’s a little hard for me to focus with everything that’s happened today.”

Flip the page.

“What? You can read code?”

I can do many things. Here, I am already done. Flip the page.

Roen flipped to the next page.

Again. Next page.

“Already?”

Just flip it.

He flipped to the third page. In a matter of minutes, Tao finished going through the large stack of pages. It actually took Roen longer to flip the pages than it did for Tao to finish scanning them. Eventually, Roen just tossed each finished page on the floor to keep up. Several people in the room snickered. Their amusement turned into amazement when he grabbed Peter’s keyboard and typed in a few commands.

“Problem fixed.” He grinned. He stood up and grabbed his bag. “Call me if you need anything else. Otherwise, have a good night.” Without another word, Roen walked out of the War Room, whistling all the way.