Demon Seeds Ch. 02: Demigod in Repose

A girl of medium build about 25 was walking toward her. She had brown hair with tight curls, hazel eyes, and strong cheekbones. She walked with a very casual stride in her faded blue jeans and a tan wool sweater. Samara experienced the strangest sensation as the girl walked closer to her. Her skin tingled almost like it felt sunlight but much more subtle. Was this girl the source of the radiant energy? The sensation grew more intense as the girl stepped closer. The world around Samara began to slow down. The tingles on her skin shifted with the girl walking by. It was like a small fire passing by on a cold winter night.

She looked up and smiled at Samara...this girl had a plant. Her name was Linda and she was visiting her parents for the weekend. They didn't know about the bonding but she planned to play with her plant every private moment she had.

Samara stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. Did she just read that girls mind? She turned to see if the girl was stopping or if the girl was going to give any signs that she also experienced something but this Linda continued walking unabated. "NO! No no no no that's ridiculous" Samara said brushing the whole thing off. She whispered to herself, "Bread...get your damn bread and go home."

Samara turned the corner and walked into Fry's bakery. The smell of fresh baked bread filled the air of the shop. As always Fry was behind the counter. Walking into the store she noticed a line that spanned the entire deli counter. Samara winced, "Shit! I'll never make it out of here." She walked to the end of the line and stood patiently. Of course the line would be there; this was the best bread for at least 50 miles.

Fry was watching her intently. He was looking at her like she had a spider crawling on her shoulder and he was afraid of how to say it. She looked behind her...nope nobody at the back of the line. Fry was a decent man, mid thirties, red hair with beard stubble, and he had the bluest of eyes. They made you think of the blue light that shines through glacial ice. She did not believe his story that they were real. "My good friend THOSE...are contacts." She would say. He never pressed the issue. He just gave her a smile and a wink as he handed her the bread. Today his expression was quite different.

"You have to get out of here!"

She looked at the other patrons. That was so loud. Someone had to have said it right next to her head. Her eyes darted, expecting to find some panicked individual. People stood in line and milled about like grazing cattle. Some were still deciding what they wanted, staring half absently into the deli glass. She paused for a moment trying to wrap her mind around what just happened. She murmured, "...no...That's not possible" and looked back at Fry who was still staring at her with that horrible expression on his face. "Was it possible?"

He tipped his head forward slightly and his eyes fluttered a bit, "I'm going to hand you your bread, and you need to leave. Your seed is going to go active and you don't want to be in public when it happens. You are different from the others. I will say, 'Here you forgot this' and I will hand you your bread. You need to go and I mean quickly, HURRY!"...his lips did not move.

Samara was extremely alarmed but she was a level headed person, she always had been. She managed to keep her wits even though the last communication bordered on the very definition of sanity. Fry held up 3 loaves of bread in a bag and motioned her over, "Here you forgot this! You don't have to wait in line a second time!"

Well it couldn't just be in her head if he actually said it. Best to just play along she figured. Samara started to walk around the line, "Aaaaahh...Yes thank you Fry. There are too many things on my mind today."

Fry almost looked afraid. His eyes were full of worry. She took the bread and turned to leave. Heading for the door now she lengthened her strides. The door was oak framed glass and had two brass hand rails that crossed in the middle of the door. Close enough to push the door open now she reached out with her unencumbered arm to grab the brass handle and watched an arc of light connect her to the brass with a loud pop. It didn't hurt at all but she heard a scream and about 8 gasps. Looking at the door handle she noticed a black mark where the bolt of electricity had hit. This was definitely not good.

Her mind lit up with Fry's voice again, "Keep going! You just grounded yourself. You won't shock it again but keep in mind your mitochondria are completely out of balance right now. So do yourself a favor and take off those flip flops before you recharge your cells and seriously injure someone."

Samara turned to see all eyes on her. She had to say something. She made a simple excuse; "Oh sorry I somehow managed to press the taser in my purse on accident"

People shook their heads and someone mumbled, "Stupid girl" then casually the patrons turned back to their business.

Samara stepped outside quickly. She could hear thunder rolling in the distance and rain trickled out of the partially cloud covered sky. The sun was still shining but the fast moving clouds were going to end that shortly. Removing her flip flops, she shot off in the direction of her house at a good pace. The cobblestones tingled under her feet. This must be part of what Fry had said was happening to her. The last intersection before her house was just up ahead. People were starting to move out of her way. Her face must have been telegraphing how upset she was. Samara imagined she must have been quite a spectacle running at people with her purse flapping and bread flailing.

She made it as far as the intersection. Being terribly distracted, she hadn't looked both ways and started to cross a busy street with oncoming traffic. Samara had already sprung into the road before she saw the car coming at her. Time slowed almost to a complete stop. She could see the rain droplets hanging in mid air slowly falling. They shimmered like diamonds as the light of the setting sun shot through them. There was a car only five feet away from her and one across the street coming the other direction about fifteen feet away. If she lunged forward to miss the first car, the second would surely hit her. Suddenly she saw the survivable route in her head. The math seemed like something a five years old child could understand.

Time sped back up and Samara sprang into the air as the first car laid on its horn. She planted both feet on its hood pushing up and backwards to counter the speed of the car. Her body arched in a forward direction and she flipped through the air with the grace of a bird. Watching the second car approach, Samara tucked her body increasing the speed of her rotation to gain the needed momentum to get her feet back under her. She unfolded and pushed off the cab of the second car doing a pirouette into a back that landed her safely on the opposite sidewalk. She sat crouched on her feet with the two fingers of one hand touching the ground like a football player ready to jump forward; a football player with a purse and three loaves of bread.

Samara quickly recounted the incident in her head. Although this seemed normal at the peak of the event while she was in her fight or flight mode, it very definitely was not normal. In shock and disbelief Samara whispered to herself, "This...this is a plant augment side effect?" Her mind recounted Fry saying, "Your seed is going to go active and you don't want to be in public when it happens. You are different from the others."

Taking account of the crowd surrounding the street she noticed people were all standing with their mouths open...staring at her. She didn't have time to think of another excuse. She felt another flare of summer sunshine inside her. This time it felt like the warm light was growing in her belly making her want to laugh. Still holding her purse and her 3 loaves of bread she bolted for her penthouse. No time to make another lame excuse and honestly, how the hell was she going to explain that away even if she did stay?

Samara leaned forward into her run and she felt her toes grab the cobblestones. Realizing she could run much faster than this, her body sprang forward in the direction of her building. The wind whistled loudly in her ears as she shot down the walkway. Images in her vision stretched into a tunnel of light streaks. The door that she headed toward was the only image that remained clear. She wasn't sure how fast she was moving but it felt really good. It felt as if a large weight had been lifted and she moved with many times her normal dexterity and grace. Within a blink she hit the lobby front door and shot to the back. There was no time for the elevator so she hit the stairs and started running straight up to her penthouse.

She hit the first stair and sprang upward. Samara landed on the top of the first flight. Her eyes went wide and she smirked slightly. This was going to be fun. She sprang up another flight, grabbing the railing only once to spin her around and set herself for the next jump. By the fifth flight, she jumped a little too enthusiastically and landed on the wall at the end of that row of stairs. Her body responded as if from muscle memory and sprang upward without hesitation. Samara watched the stairs below her as she flew through the air above them targeting the opposite wall. She landed like a frog on hands and feet, bounding again almost instantaneously. As her speed increased, her mind gained calm. Samara felt it odd that she was not bothered by the incredulous nature of her actions. Instead she was bothered by the calm and her feeling that she had done this before.

Landing gracefully on her toes, Samara was in front of her penthouse entryway. Her purse with everything in it was on her left shoulder, the bag with three loaves of bread held by her teeth, and her keys to her floor were magically in her right hand. She reflected back into her memory and recalled the action. She had managed to successfully pull her keys out of her purse in mid air on her last bound.

She swiped her key fob accessing her security door. The door beeped and the familiar sound of the magnetic locks released. She threw the door open and went inside quickly spinning to close the door by pressing her back against it.

Samara took slow deep breaths to calm herself. She had no idea what to expect. She knew only that there were some people who had a lot of explaining to do. What was happening to her? The seed was making her feel well and at ease but the lack of information brought her back down to reality, keeping her mind sharp and aware. She mumbled under her breath, "Nobody said shit about this happening."

* * * * *

Steam peeled off the surface of the bath water in thick wisps with the aroma of cedar and sage filling the room. This bath oil combo was her favorite. When Samara took in a deep slow breath the desert wood odor filled her senses. The smell reminded her of a hiking trip that she and her friends had taken through southern Utah. She remembered a lightning storm in the distance one night. They all sat up watching it mesmerized by its power and beauty. More importantly they had their fingers crossed hoping the storm did not turn and head their direction. There was an old dead cedar tree close to where they had pitched their tents. They made use of it as firewood. The wind brought them the smell of the wet sage that mixed with the campfire cedar. It was a good memory that reminded her of true freedom. She knew that with being free, real and ever present danger was always close behind.

She heard the buzz of the front door intercom. Snapping out of her daydream, Samara turned and grabbed her white terrycloth bathrobe and headed to the door. Still wrapping it around her naked body, she made her way muttering, "Who the hell could that be? They had better have good reason to be interrupting my bath."

Pressing the intercom button Samara spoke in a cordial tone that was very much unlike her mood, CLICK: "Yes! Can I help you?"

A male voice answered back, "Hello! Samara it's Fry from the bakery. I think we need to talk."

CLICK: "Actually, No...we don't. Go home Fry."

"Aren't you the least bit curious as to why I know what you're going through?"

CLICK: "Nope...I just want my bath and a good night's sleep."

"Samara, you're being completely unreasonable. Trust me you need to hear what I have to say."

CLICK: "You are creepy and weird and I'm emotional and tired. Of course I'm being unreasonable. Now you seriously need to fuck off before I call the cops Frymon."

"Frymon? ...why did you call me that? You know my name is Fry."

Samara was a little put off by it, why indeed.

CLICK: "Okay slugger I'm calling the cops."

Samara was getting angry now but she didn't actually walk anywhere. She just stood by the intercom to see if he was still going to insist on bothering her. The microphone in the lobby timed out finally and she stood there waiting for it to beep again. She wasn't really going to call the police but she just wanted to relax in her bath and wash away today's stress or at least try.

"Try not to freak out," Fry said but much louder and clearer and...very much behind her.

Spinning on her heels, Samara screamed and jumped backward landing with her shoulders against the door.

Fry was standing there in the middle of her foyer with his hands in his blue jeans. He was wearing a basic white T-shirt and beige Converse with an oddly concerned look on his face. He pulled both of his hands out in front of him, palms down patting the air in a calming fashion saying, "Just relax and listen to what I have to say."

She turned quickly in a panic to run for her life. Fumbling for the door, Samara had the deadbolt unlocked ant her hand on the door yanking it open when she heard Fry say the oddest thing.

"You've never had microsurgery...There's nothing wrong with your...eeh...sex parts."

She stopped dead in her tracks. How the hell would the bread guy down the street know about her fight with cancer? She was a sixteen year old girl and she didn't live anywhere near this city when she was undergoing chemotherapy.

Turning back again, anger replaced her panic. Locking her eyes to Fry, she slowly closed the door and locked it without looking down. Her hands did not fidget. She just knew where everything was at.

Without blinking she walked slowly toward Fry wanting to throttle him. It was his reaction that broke her trance. The man was positively terrified. He fell to his knees and placed his forehead on the floor. He set his palms on the travertine tiles in front of him with his fingers stretched out. He was abasing himself before her.

"Please Master I beg you, do not kill me. I live only to serve."

"You..." Samara's words caught in her throat. This man's behavior seemed familiar. How did he get in here? The sliding glass door was closed and so were all the windows. How did he speak to her with his mind earlier, and how did she do those incredible things coming home?

Resigned from fighting this man any further, she left him on the floor and walked into the living room speaking flatly, "Get up off my floor Fry and come sit down. I have no intention of...'killing you'."

Plopping down in her favorite reading chair, Samara crossed her legs and folded her bath robe neatly over her knees. Her face had shifted from anger to that of an indignant mask. Fry scurried into her living room and knelt in front of her looking down at the floor in front of him.

Exasperated she burst out, "Okay! You need to stop that. Go sit on the couch like a good creepy weirdo and start talking. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner I can get back to my bath." Deep down inside even Samara knew this empirical attitude was all a cover. She had no idea what this man was about to say but she knew he'd be telling her something incredulous and difficult to swallow. She sat like a proper lady and braced herself as she pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows.

Fry stood up and moved slowly to the couch like a dog with his tail between his legs. Sitting down he slouched forward with his hands on his knees. The man swallowed hard and looked a little sick. She started to think that maybe she should have left him on the floor.

She inquired in a softer tone, "Are you going to be okay Fry?"

"Yes, yes I'm just fine. This is just very stressful for me."

"Are you shitting me Fry!? Stressful for you?"

"Yes! Stressful to me and you will understand why when I can...figure out how to tell you why I'm here."

She crooked an eyebrow in disbelief then spoke, "How the hell did you get in here Fry?"

"Actually you let me in."

"The hell I did."

"I can't expect you to understand but that is exactly what happened. Just give me a moment to explain and..."

"Make it good Fry or I'm calling the police and you can explain it to them."

Fry paused for a moment gathering his thoughts then he put his fist to his mouth and cleared his throat. Nodding his head he began, "There's really no way to soften the information...crazy sounds crazy no matter how you bring it across."

He raised his hands into the air with a squinted look on his face, as if he were trying to actually grasp something real out of the air. Then as he closed his fists he said, "Your name is Hypatia, you were the scholar in history but you didn't die like the lesson books say...you're not human."

He waited for Samara to say something but she just sat there with a befuddled look on her face; her mouth hung agape.

Fry continued because he knew she was listening but there was a chance that if he waited too long, she'd throw him off the balcony. At least that's what poor Frymon was afraid of.

"You are a photonic entity, a being of pure light created by the Four Councils of the Ancients, over five hundred thousand years ago. You're a...what's the English word for it? ...a demigod...yes that's it."

"Okay Fry, if I'm such a being, why do I not remember any of this?"

"You're running a vacation program. It's actually far more complicated than that but there is nothing in your language that comes close to the process. The word 'program' gets the desired point across."

"Brilliant! ...this just gets better and better."

Fry put his finger in the air and smiled saying, "It is how I got in here. There's ...a...a maintenance door of sorts in your program. I simply uttered a phrase that put you into stasis for a few minutes, and then I walked in your front door and stood in the middle of your foyer."

Samara now felt that Fry had suffered a mental breakdown and she was remembering things wrong because she was truly sympathetic to his plight. Maybe she was being delusional and enabling this man to really go off the rails. She had to start reeling him back in to reality. She wasn't sure how he got in here or how to explain the bread store but soon she was going to start sprouting a plant cock and THAT subject was one of the world's leading causes of death. She had to coax him to leave her penthouse somehow without upsetting him. He'd obviously snapped.

After considering her options, Samara continued, "Look Fry, you make some really good bread and I love our little talks that we have but seriously Fry, if I'm a demigod I'll be fine and you can go home. We should meet up and talk about this another time. Why don't you go home and get a little rest my friend."

Fry's head came up with an annoyed look on his face. Shaking his head back and forth he clutched the sides of his head and laughed maniacally.