They used to say, "Where there's life, there's hope." Yeah. That was before the giants took over. Afterward, you just hoped that you would live one more day before one of them spotted you, and once that happened, your only hope left was that they would make it quick. A lot of times they didn't. What made things so tough was that there was nowhere to live where they weren't. They had made the whole world theirs.

You can't survive without food, water, and shelter, and the only place to find all three of those in today's world is to put yourself right under the giants' noses. Sure, you risk being splattered to death on a daily basis, or worse -- and believe me, there is a hell of a lot worse that can happen -- but it is either that or starve or die of exposure, and even then there's still no guarantee that you won't get splattered. It's not so different from being a cockroach, and when you get right down to it, that is pretty much what we are now. So, just like roaches, we hide ourselves in walls, ceilings, foundations, anywhere we can find, really. The trouble with that is that the best spots tend to attract more and more tenants, so we end up forming colonies. There are advantages to that, but not all of us see it that way.

I'm talking about the old guy. I don't remember his name, if I ever even knew it. He told me that colonies weren't safe and that the more of us there were in one spot, the more likely it was that we would be found out. He said that the best thing to do was to spread out and live alone or, at most, in pairs. Everyone argued with him, said that he was wrong and that he was crazy and that if he was so sure that living in a colony was such a bad idea then he could leave, so one night he did, and he took me with him. He taught me everything I needed to know to survive, but that didn't come without a price. There were things that he wanted from me that he was not shy about taking. I hated it but did not think that I had any choice in the matter. I have to admit that I did not waste any tears the day that he died beneath a giant's foot. The sound his body made was as satisfying as it was sickening.

I didn't feel that I was ready to be on my own, so eventually I found my way back to the colony. Unfortunately, though, it turned out that the old guy had been right all along. All that was left were bones. None of them looked like they had been broken so I guessed that it was poison. With that in mind I wasn't inclined to stay very long, so I salvaged what I could, took what I could carry and left. I set my sights on a place that I had spotted off in the distance, a plain duracrete box far removed from the other structures that the giants had built. I figured that it had to be a storage shed or something, and as long as nobody else had gotten the same idea, it would make for a reasonably safe hiding spot.

It took me six days and twice as many close calls to reach it, and just in time. The biggest storm that I had ever seen came rolling in, a real hurricane, and had I not found a vent that I could climb through I would have been swept away by the wind. I counted myself lucky until I found out that it wasn't a shed, but a giant's house. Well, fuck. With the storm raging outside and nowhere else to go, I decided to ditch my clothes, which were pretty worn and buggy by then, and see what I would need to do in order to stay alive there.

By no stretch of the imagination was it an ideal setup, but it could have been a lot worse, all things considered. There was nobody else my size in residence and no sign that any had ever been. There was just one giant to watch out for, and that one was gone more often than he was home. He was also a careless housekeeper. always dropping bits of food everywhere, which of course suited me just fine. If you don't sweep up you'll attract roaches, right?

The most important thing for someone living inside a giant's walls is to learn their habits, and this one had some pretty odd ones. For one thing, he seemed to be afraid of the dark because he never, ever shut off the lights, even when he slept. He also had a funny little ritual that he would follow every night when he got home. As soon as he closed the door he would take off all of his clothes one piece at a time, always in the same order, and he would fold each piece neatly and place it into a basket by the door before moving on to the next. He had a lot of other quirks, but that undressing ritual of his was by far the weirdest. Still, It did not matter to me that I was living with the most obsessive-compulsive giant in the world. I had the run of the place for hours while he was gone, and in case I had not gotten back under cover before he returned, his fixation with undressing so fastidiously would give me plenty of time to hide. That was a risk that I was not prepared to take, however, and I always made sure to be safely hidden in my den before he even got the door open. There was a hole in the baseboard through which I could watch him as he went through his routine, and I started to do that more and more, until I was watching it every night. I wondered if he would ever change it up but he never did. How strange that it fascinated me so much. There's not much in the way of entertainment these days so I guess you just have to take what you can get it.

One night he came home just as usual, and just as usual I snuck up to the edge of my hole and peered out as he took off one piece of clothing, folded it neatly, placed it into the basket, then took off another piece of clothing, folded it neatly, on and on, over and over. It occurred to me after a while that I wasn't watching his routine so much as I was watching him. It was interesting just seeing how he moved. I had never really noticed before just how fit he was, how the muscles stretched and flowed beneath his hide as graceful as waves on the ocean, and just as powerful. It was strangely hypnotic. I just kept staring. I gradually became aware of something stirring inside of me, a stirring that quickly turned into a flutter once he turned around. Such a simple motion but it was sheer poetry, his body flexing, his tail following him in a beautiful arc, and now I saw him from the front, all of him, all at once, and the word "magnificent" was all that I could think of, and I thought back to the old guy and how he had disgusted me but there was nothing disgusting about what I was seeing and compared to the old guy this giant was...

I bit back a scream, scrambled back into my den and scurried to the farthest, deepest corner I could find. There I hunkered down and held my breath, scared of making even the tiniest sound. There was a heavy thud which made me nearly wet myself, then another, and a third. I recognized the sound of his footfalls and was relieved to feel them fading rather than approaching. Shaking, I waited until they stopped before I inched my way to the nearest crack that I could peek through. I saw him fiddle with something on a countertop before picking up the tablet that he was always poking at and moving out of sight, giving no indication that he had spotted me.

Relief hit me like a bucket of ice water. I curled up in a ball right where I was and tried to figure out what would have driven me to such a blatantly stupid maneuver. I did not seem to have a fever. I did not remember eating anything rotten and as near as I could tell my water was not stagnant. I did not think that I was coming into heat, and if I was, what the hell? He's a fucking monster! He's not even my species!

Complacency! That's what it was. Watching that goofy routine of his every night had led me to drop my guard. There's countless people who are dead now because of the very same thing. It was just pure dumb luck that I had escaped this time and I swore to myself that there would never be another. From now on, I told myself, you don't go anywhere near that opening while he's out there.

The next morning I stayed as deep in my den as I could instead of sneaking up to watch him get ready for his day. It was a bad habit that I had gotten into and it was time to break it before I got myself swatted, but for some reason it was difficult. Somehow, I felt compelled to see what he was doing. I was in no mood to die that day, though, so I forced myself to wait for a very long time until I was certain that he was well and truly gone, and then I crawled up to the opening and ventured a very wary peek outside, and that is when I realied that I had been spotted after all. Just outside of my hole I found a shallow dish piled with chunks of food as big as my head. Unlike the dried-out scraps that I was used to, these were fresh and moist and inviting.

And that, I knew all too well, was the intention.

"Fuck you, Asshole!" I called out. Oh, I knew what the game was. Put the powder in the food and wait for one roach to take it home and feed it to the rest of the colony. It is almost certainly what happened to the place I had left behind. Not that I had ever felt very welcome or even well-treated there, but the thought of all of those people groaning and writhing and gurgling as the poison ravaged them from the inside out made me queasy at first, and then mad as hell. Sure, the brute who lived here may have been handsome to look at, but he was clearly just as merciless a killer as any of them.

I thought about turning the tables on him, maybe trying to trick him into downing some of his own medicine, but no. I would never be able to get enough of it into him even to give him heartburn. Instead, fell back on one of the first lessons that the old guy had taught me. Being careful not to touch the bait, I used a stick to roll about half of the morsels into the hole, then pushed them all the way to the back and covered them up. Let the big jerk find the food missing. He would think that I had fallen for the trap and that me and all of my little vermin-friends were dead. Maybe that would satisfy him enough stop looking for me, which might buy me enough time to hunt for another place to live.

With no way of knowing how long I would be wandering around before I found a new home, I needed to build up my food stocks. I spent most of the next two days scouring the place for anything edible that I could cart back to my den. I collected a decent haul but I figured that it would not be enough to keep me going for more than a week. I needed at least twice that much, so I hunkered down and waited for the big slob to drop some more treats. He did not disappoint me. After he left the following morning I found a veritable bonanza, enough that I could actually be choosy about what I collected. This is it, I thought. This is my ticket out of here.

That's when my luck ran out. There I was, arms full of rations and literally minutes away from disappearing forever, when I heard the loudest click in history and saw the door swing open. I barely had time to turn around before the bastard stepped inside. My first instinct was to break and run but I fought it down. In spite of having taught me never to run when faced with that situation, that was just what the old guy had done, and it was the last thing he ever did. The best choice was to drop down and make yourself as small as possible and stay totally motionless. If you did it right they could walk straight past you and never even know that you were there.

He was definitely coming my way, feet pounding the floor with every step like two big hammers. I was afraid of being squashed and I was getting ready to leap clear when I realized that whereas it was going to be close, his path was going to carry him past me. Probably. Maybe. I made myself small and held still and started to think, that's a good boy. Just keep going. Nobody here but us dust-bunnies. Be on your way, now.

His foot landed hard right next to me. The impact almost jarred my teeth right out of my head and left my ears ringing. I waited for it to lift away but when it did not, ice started to form in my veins. At the same time that I raised my head he lowered his, and our eyes met.

As fast as I could I was on my feet, flinging everything I had in my arms as far as I could in order to confuse him. I still had the element of surprise on my side and the entrance to my den was not too far off. I remembered what I had been taught about broken-field running and how it could save you from being stomped flat so I veered to the left, then to the right and then very quickly back to the left. I ran quicker than I thought I could make my legs go and did not look back but kept my eyes on the hole in front of me and did another feint to the right and then back to the left and then

Whump! The giant's hand came down just an inch or two in front of me. With no time to react I just ran smack into his palm and bounced off of it like a rubber ball hitting a wall. Dazed, I staggered backward and struggled to keep my balance. I thought that I could try making a dash around his fingers but he was a lot faster than I anticipated. Another hand swept up from behind and smacked me up against the first. He had me pinned between them and was pressing so hard that I felt as if my ribs were going to snap. My stomach lurched down into my legs as I was hoisted up. I nearly puked. The hand that was pressing against my frontside suddenly swept away and for a fraction of a second I could see his face looming over me, lips drawn back, teeth gleaming angrily, before his thumb shoved down heavily on my face. He was trying to smother me! I kicked and thrashed and beat at his thumb with both hands but it just kept pressing harder and harder. I could not last much longer. Faced with running out of air or feeling my skull pop, I resorted to the last trick that I had left: I let my body go limp all at once.

Well, damn. It actually worked. His thumb relaxed and then lifted entirely off of my face. I wanted to gulp in a big lungful of air but that would have spoiled the illusion. He thinks you're dead, I thought, so you need to stay dead. I tried to keep my breathing as shallow as I could while watching him through barely-slitted eyes. It was hard not to let out a yell, though, when he lifted me up and held me less than arm's length away from his nose. A long, long draught of air rushed in through his nostrils, dragging my scent with it before it blew out again. He tilted his head just a little to one side. I concentrated on remaining perfectly still, worried that any second his fist was going clamp shut and put an end to both my little ruse and to me, but it did not happen. He sniffed me again, and then again, each time slowly, almost thoughtfully.

Crazy as it sounds, I started to feel less terrified and more angry. I was thinking, What the hell are you screwing around for? I'm not in the mood for any stupid games. If you're going to kill me, just get on with it already! I tried to gauge how far away his eye was. If I could pull off a sudden lunge I could poke the shit out of it, and then I would have to deal with the fall since he would almost certainly drop me but that would be better than waiting for him to think of how best to torture me.

Then, as I peered up into that eye I noticed something starling. I had expected inky-dark-evil-black pupils, like some demon's, but the one that I was looking at was all a ghostly pale gray, like the sky in winter, and when his head turned I could make out that the other one was the same.

"Holy shit...You can't see."

What fuck? You said that out loud, you dumbass! I was done for now, for sure. His other hand appeared, the index finger extended and tipped with a savage claw that looked more than capable of slicing me cleanly in two. Here it comes, I thought. I felt myself tense up, but to my surprise the claw slipped harmlessly past my head and his fingertip came in contact with my shoulder. The touch was so gentle that it barely registered. It lingered there for a moment before tracing a delicate path down my arm, then gliding across my middle and up the other arm.

Stay cool, I told myself. He's trying to trick you. The second you show any sign of life he'll crush you like a grape. Stay dead or be dead.

I stayed dead and allowed his finger to explore my body. It moved over every inch of my front side before the claw slipped beneath my ribcage and nudged me over onto my belly. I felt it brushing along my back, up and down, up and down. He moved then to my legs and pinched them gingerly between his thumb and forefinger. Terrifying as it was I had to admit that it felt kind of nice. I felt his breath again, closer, and I'm sure that I briefly felt his nose pressing against my back.

Then the descent, a bizarre sensation, like falling in slow motion. His fingers pressed in on my sides, squeezing enough to empty my lungs but not enough to give me any bruises. He lifted me off of his hand. I closed my eyes. The next thing I felt was the cold floor beneath me, followed by the low, jarring thud of a footstep, then another, and then a third, fading, growing distant. When I dared to take a peek I found myself lying right outside of the entrance to my den. I opened my eyes wider. He was still there, but instead of looking my way he was busy poking at that tablet of his, as if he had lost all interest in me.

I bolted into my den and hid there, not venturing out even after I heard him leave for the day.

Now, I have spent almost half of my life in a world ruled by giants. Fear and anxiety have been a constant part of my existence, with the prospect of a horrible death never more than two or three seconds away, but all of that pales when compared to the fear of the unknown. A giant who would gleefully slaughter me a thousand times over was at least something familiar; I had no idea at all how to deal with one who didn't want to kill me. The fact that I did not know what it was that he wanted was somehow more terrifying than all of the dangers that I had faced since the invasion began, and I am sure that is why I kept myself hidden after he returned home.

I heard the sounds of him undressing, which for some reason made me fidget. I heard him preparing dinner, I heard the tap-tap of his claw on his tablet. Then I heard his footsteps approaching, thudding right up to the wall outside of my den and standing there, just waiting, minute after torturous minute before he finally went away. It was the most horrific torture he could have inflicted on me. I started crying and could not stop, eventually falling asleep in a puddle of my own tears, something I had not done since before the invasion.

I was surprised to find him already gone when I woke the next morning. He had not left early; I had overslept, which was a luxury that I thought I'd never live to see. I ran as quickly as I could to the entrance and peered out to see if he was still around but he was indeed gone. I felt strangely sad about that, and then was angry at myself for feeling sad. It was not as if he was going to answer any of my questions. I gathered up more of the food that he had dropped and cached it with the rest, still with a mind to leave as soon as I was able to, but...not just yet. Not until I had figured out his sick game.

When he returned I stayed close to the entrance to my den and listened as he undressed but did not show myself, still afraid of what was going on his mind, as well as my own. I sat there with my chin on my knees until I felt his footsteps approaching. A shadow fell across the entrance, startling me. Two fingers appeared. Pinched between them was a little morsel of food, probably synthetic but smelling unbearably appealing. He held it there for a good long minute before giving it a tiny shake, and finally setting it down.

I waited until his footfalls faded before I crept to the hole. I could see him standing at his counter, peacefully nibbling at his dinner while his fingers danced along the tablet. I watched, and kept watching, and before long I had fallen again under a bizarre spell that I could neither understand nor resist. His musculature was nothing short of perfect. Every movement he made, even the tiniest one, was simply mesmerizing. I admired his tail, itself a thing of sublime beauty, as it swayed slowly from side to side as though it had no weight at all, and his rump, oh my, the way it dimpled and flexed in harmony with that tail.

I noticed just then that my body was reacting to the sight.

Shocked, I lunged back into my den, but then darted back out and snatched up the peace offering he had left for me and dashed with it back inside. Fuck it if it was poisoned. It was the best meal I had eaten in years.

The next night I listened for his approaching footfalls and waited for the shadow to appear, and as soon as I saw his fingers I ran up and grabbed the food from them and darted back. His hand jerked back in surprise, which was rather satisfying. I was still faster than he was! The following night, though, his hand remained steady. The night after that he brought me two pieces, one after the other. I took them both, boom and boom.

The treat that he brought on the fifth night was real vegetable as near as I could tell. Fancy! I took it and waited to see if there would be another, but instead, one of his fingers slid slowly into the entrance and sat there motionless. I was not sure what to do and just stared at it for a while, and then had the crazy idea, Fuck it. I tiptoed forward, hesitated, started to retreat, and then finally reached out and laid my hand on it. "Apology accepted," I whispered, and then added stupidly. "And I'm sorry that I was afraid of you." With that I grabbed up my dinner and ran with it down to the deepest part of the den.

That night I had the most bizarre and vivid dream of my life. I was back home, long before the invasion, except that the old guy was there. He was coming into my room to get his amusement and giving me that awful grin that he always wore when he wanted something. I wanted to hide under the covers but they had disappeared, and I started looking all around for them. When I looked back, though, the old guy was gone and in his place was my giant. He was as gorgeous as ever, and magically we were exactly the same height. For some reason I wasn't surprised, like that sort of thing was totally normal, and I said something like, "Well, what day is it?" I don't know what I meant by that. He just laughed and put his arms around me. I remember how strong they felt, how his body was as hard as stone but at the same time still soft against mine, if that makes any sense. He whispered the sweetest and most loving things to me, and then asked me if it would be all right. I told him yes, but he was so shy that I had to keep telling him it was okay. Then we laid down and he started doing the same things to me that the old guy always did, but there was none of the disgust or resentment. Everything he did to me was tender, almost apologetic, and I had to tell him over and over that he did not need to worry. Even as big as he was I was able to take him no matter where he wanted me, and he did, and it was glorious and I wanted more and more and he gave me everything that I wanted and held me in those arms and I felt safe and told him that I...

My body betrayed me, hitting its peak in the real world at the same time that it did in the dream and startling me awake. I sat straight up, reaching for a moment into the empty darkness before I fell back sobbing, guilt stabbing like a knife into my heart. There was no hiding it any longer from myself. How could I have let such a thing happen? How could I have betrayed the millions who had died by falling in love with one of the monsters who had killed them?

Am I a monster? That was one of the things he had said in my dream. I remembered it. I don't think I answered him at the time but now I whispered into the darkness, "No." He wasn't. He was a giant, for sure, an alien, yes, but nothing like the rest. He had held me, fed me, took care of me, even felt...

...did he?

Like a sleepwalker I emerged from my den and shuffled toward the colossal door that led to his bedroom. There was a gap at the bottom that was just wide enough for someone like me to wiggle through. I had never done more than peek through it since it would be suicide to go exploring in places where you might end up cornered by someone coming home unexpectedly, but my mind at that moment was in a place where suicide was just a philosophical construct.

I dropped down and worked my way under the door and stood up for the first time on the other side. There he lay, a living mountain range stretched out on its back, just as majestic, just as breathtaking. He was resting on a woven mat on the floor, his breath rumbling through him like distant thunder. I stood there transfixed for what must have been hours, just taking in the sight of him like some dimwitted tourist before I ventured nearer, approaching his hip and then inching my way down the length of his leg. It is incredible to me that barely a week before that I could not even have imagined getting that close to him. Back then I would have died of fright, but at that moment there was no fear, only a mind-numbing admiration which, as I crept past his foot and peered between his legs, very quickly became something else, something even more mind-numbing.

Wow. Just...wow. I could not have torn my gaze away from it even if I wanted to. It was bigger than I was and probably weighed a ton or even more. It was truly... Big? No, not just big. Since the arrival of the giants we had added about a hundred words for "big" to our vocabulary, but I ran through every one of them in my mind and not one of them could do it justice. I crept closer, inch by inch, his thighs rising like the walls of a canyon on either side of me, until I could feel his warmth on my face. Like in a trance I reached out and touched the tips of my fingers to it, brushed them in little slow circles over its tip. It stirred and lightly nudged back against my hand; encouraged by that, I slid my arms around it as far as I could reach. It began to awaken, slowly, still groggy. I rested my cheek against it. Its girth swelled, steadily pushing my arms further apart. I ventured a tiny, tiny kiss, and felt my feet being lifted off of the floor.

Then like a wild stallion it bucked, throwing me back onto my ass. Those powerful legs kicked around me, the immense body flailing and throwing itself back. He sat up, mouth open, chest heaving, head turning frantically from side to side, and I saw an expression on his face that was suddenly both unmistakable and gut-wrenchingly familiar to me. Dismay. Dread. Disgust.

I knew how he felt, and I knew in that moment that I had become the old guy.

Horrified by that revelation, I scrambled to my feet and bolted straight for the door. I probably left a bit of skin on it as I dove beneath and came out running on the other side. I did not stop running until I had reached my den, where I collapsed in a pile of tears and self-loathing.

I don't know how long I sat there in the dark before I felt the thud of his footsteps approaching. Probably coming with the spray, I thought, and I would not have blamed him. I saw a shadow fall over the entrance and one of his fingers slid inside. Ashamed, I could not bring myself to go near it and simply sat all in a ball of misery and stared at it. It stayed where it was for a good couple of minutes before it withdrew.

A sudden thump startled me and I jumped up. I heard it again, twice, the insistent rapping of a claw against the wall outside. His finger reappeared and waited, but still I could not approach it. "Just go away," I called out. "I'm sorry for what I did. I won't bother you anymore."

The finger gave a little wiggle, and when I did not respond it suddenly pulled back. Its claw hooked on the edge of the hole and with an almighty roar the entire baseboard was torn away. Light streamed in and dazzled me. For a moment the old fear came rushing back -- it's hard not to be afraid when faced with such raw power. My instinct to run once again tangled up with my instinct to freeze and I think I must have ended up doing a stupid little dance, jumping a half step and then halting, crouching, scurrying, stopping, and finally just falling to my knees.

His hand appeared nd settled on the floor ahead of me, palm open. I just sat there gawking at it for a while, unsure if it was an invitation or a demand. Probably both. It dawned on me that he could have just grabbed me if he wanted to but he did not. His hand just rested there, and at last I understood that he was giving me a choice.

And, reluctantly, I took it.

I did not have the courage to look up at him as I shuffled toward the waiting hand. It wasn't afraid that he would kill me, but I absolutely dreaded the idea that he would be angry or disgusted. If I were in his place I would have been both. Just the thought of some filthy bug crawling on me while I slept made me shiver, and knowing I was that very bug made me want to drop dead right where I was. I really wanted to, but instead, I climbed sheepishly into his palm.

The ascent was much gentler this time. I sat motionless, head bowed, as he brought me up to his face. He should have been furious, but I didn't see any of that in his expression when I finally mustered the courage to lift my gaze. "I'm really, really sorry," I sniffled. Dumb, I know, since there's no way that he could understand me, but I felt that it had to be said. "That was stupid of me. I had no right and it was...I just...I mean, what do you expect? You're just so damn hot. There. I said it. I know, it's no excuse and I deserve to get slapped for it, but you...I mean, it's not right what I did and I promise I won't ever..."

His fingers rose around me and half-closed into something of a cage, silencing me. I could not see much between them but I could tell that he was carrying me back into his bedroom. He was very careful to keep his hand steady as he lay down. I could not fathom what it was that he wanted, but as soon his hand opened and tilted to slide me off I quickly understood.

The muscles of his abdomen were firm and warm beneath my feet, and there it was, right there in front of me, huge and warm and glorious and already stirring in anticipation. Behind me his chest flexed as he raised his hands and slid them beneath his head, waiting. Once again, I was not sure if it was an invitation or a demand or both, but once again, I knew that I was being given the choice.

And, eagerly this time, I took it.

He did not let me finish what I started, but it was soon obvious why, considering the volume that he put out. I am not that good a swimmer. Instead, he took matters into his own hands, so to speak, while holding me against the velvet softness below. It felt like being swaddled in a warm blanket, with me nestled between those big, magnificent globes, and I did my best to help him reach his peak from there. It was very clear that he appreciated the effort, and after he was finished and had cleaned up, he was kind enough to return the favor. I cannot begin to describe how amazing it is to be licked by a tongue that is longer than you are tall. And he didn't stop there. I am sure that I am the first person in history to have been inside a giant's mouth and lived to tell about it. That is where I finished up...twice.

So what does this make me now? A pet? A plaything? A lover? Just a few days ago I lived in abject terror of him. Now here I am lying on his chest, feeling it rumble beneath me, lifting me slowly up, then down. I feel safer here than anywhere else I have ever been, but I can't help but wonder if that is really true. If he were to roll over in his sleep he would crush me, and who knows when he might decide that he liked the way I tasted. It is still a very dangerous position to be in, so why am I not running away? Why can't I run away? Am I crazy? Has my mind finally broken from all the horror it's witnessed?

Maybe. Probably. Or maybe it's just that he's so warm. His chest gently rises...sinks...rises...sinks. His heartbeat beneath me is low and slow and steady. While every rational voice within me says that I should be, I am not the least bit afraid of him.

Maybe, for the first time in my life, I have hope.

Day 8

Finally out of quarantine. I was so hopeful that attitudes would be different out here on the Frontier but they aren't. Not even close. The people are just as superstitious as they were back home. Everyone shies away as soon as they notice. Even the house that I have been assigned to is separated from all of the others, as if they think I'm contagious.

Day 20

I am settling in to my new job, at least as much as I am ever going to. They have put me far in the back all by myself. I suppose that's fine. No one at work has much interest in speaking to me. The supervisor at the gym talked to me once but only to ask me to do my workout early in the morning before anyone else arrives so that they don't have to see me. Am I that repulsive just because I see the world differently than they do?

Day 49

I am so lonely. I can hear others whispering when I pass by. The young ones are simply vicious. I will keep up this journal because Mother made me promise that I would. She said that it would help me to remember the good times as well as the bad. When will there be some good times, though?

Day 50

Father said never to lose hope but I do not believe now that I ever had it to lose. I want to go home so badly, but then, what is there for me? With my parents gone it would be no better than here. And as if things aren't bad enough, I have an infestation. I can hear something scurrying around behind the walls. I don't want to catch any diseases from it so tomorrow I will see about buying some traps.

Day 53

Someone actually spoke kindly to me today at work, at least until she realized. Then she said "Oh!" and just hurried away. It was nice while it lasted. That scurrying is still there -- I am pretty sure it's a didge. As near as I can tell it's just one so that ought to make it easy enough to deal with. I was going to shop for traps today but the weather was horrible (again) and I did not feel like staying out. I'll do it tomorrow.

Day 54

I am never going back there. It took me a long time to find someone willing to help me and when they finally brought me to the things for dealing with indigenous infestations, I was shocked at how awfully cruel they all were. It seemed that every single one of them was designed to inflict the maximum amount of suffering possible. I asked if there was nothing that would be a bit more merciful and she laughed and said things like, "That would be a sin, " and "It's what they deserve." I did not want to stay around her any longer than I had to so I ended up getting some vermicide gel which I put down with some bait.

Day 55

Someone else has started to come in early to the gym. I am pretty sure that they complained about me being there and I will probably be asked not to come in any more. The bait was gone when I returned home but I can still hear the didge crawling around. I hope it doesn't die behind the walls and stink the place up. That would be the last thing I need.

Day 56

That damned didge is still alive. The vermicide couldn't possibly take this long to act. Either it took the bait and didn't eat it, or I was sold a bottle of water and that clerk is getting a good laugh at my expense. And, just as I predicted, they asked me not to come to the gym anymore when anyone else was there. Apparently my very presence upsets the "good, normal folk." I hate this world and I hate my life. I have not felt this awful since my parents' trial.

Day 57

I started to go in at the usual time but then I remembered that I wouldn't be allowed into the gym, so I went back home to maybe catch a little more sleep, and what did I find? That didge was right out in the middle of the floor. I almost stepped on it. We both jumped -- I don't know who was more scared, me or it. It started to make a run for its hole but I managed to catch it and tried not to think of all the germs that it carries. I didn't really know what to do and it was squeaking and struggling and I didn't want it to suffer so I thought that the best thing to do would just be to crush its skull. I started to, but I got to thinking: here is this little thing that is all alone, probably rejected by its kind, and it's scared and is only trying to survive. I know how that feels, and once I started thinking that way I just couldn't bring myself to kill it. It tried playing dead, kind of clever of it really, and that gave me a chance to get a good look at it. They really are just like us it turns out, just incredibly weak and little. I suppose that is why everyone says they are an abomination, but really, is that their fault? I decided to let it go. To hell with what the law says.

Day 58

That didge was hiding just inside its hole when I got home. I think it was watching me, and I thought, well, it's the closest thing to a friend I've got here, so I might as well let it do its thing. I even tried leaving a little bit of food out for it. We will see if it takes it. Yes, I know that I could get slapped with a heresy charge for it, but at this point, I don't really care. Hey, asshole, if you got hold of this journal and are reading this, go eat shit!

Day 59

This was the worst day ever. Nothing worked right and I was blamed for all of it, even though I can see more than they can. I tried to tell them that I knew how to fix it but they just shouted me down. I came home miserable. But then, my little didge-friend for the first time took some food from my hand when I offered it and I felt better. It's becoming tame, it seems, and that makes me smile. It is good therapy for dealing with a day like this one.

Day 61

My didge is getting more and more used to me. I have tried a couple of times to coax it out of its hole but it is still very skittish. I would be too, I guess. Who knows what sort of awful experiences this one has had with settlers like me? No better than my own, I'm sure. It seems content to take the food that I offer it straight from my fingers. Maybe with time it will trust me enough to come out of hiding. I would like to pet it.

Day 62

I deleted what I wrote originally for this entry since I was shocked and angry when I wrote it. I had a bizarre dream, the kind that could get me arrested just for talking about, that the didge and I were the same size, and I woke up right in the middle of it only to find the didge cuddled right up against my privates. I let out a yell that probably could have been heard back on the homeworld and almost broke through the wall trying to get away. The didge bolted straight back into its hole and I was just about ready to burn the place to the ground to get rid of it. But I've calmed down a lot now after thinking about it. I am trying to figure out what the goofy little thing was up to, and why. It might have just been cold, or maybe it's in heat and confused. Or maybe it's just tired of being alone and wanted to be close to something. If that's it, well I can definitely relate. To be that desperate for company that you would be willing to put yourself in such danger! I could easily have swatted it out of pure instinct as soon as I woke up. I am really, really glad that I did not.

I was right. I tried to get Didge to come out but it didn't, so I got a little impatient and pulled open the wall where it has its nest so it would not have anywhere to hide. I was surprised when, after that, it came right to my hand. It was shivering but I am pretty sure it was not because it was cold. It wanted something, and as perverse a thought as it is, I wanted it too. So, tonight, I lost my virginity to an indigenous. They will have to write a whole new book of punishments to deal with that level of blasphemy. Let them! If they are going to keep calling me a monster, then a monster I will be.

Didge is asleep on my chest right now as I record this. It's not shivering and it's so cute, this little -- what? Pet? Friend? Lover? I have no idea what to call it. One thing that I am certain of, though, is that this puny little squeaky ball is the first thing in this whole stinking world that has given me hope.

This story and is copyrighted. Links may be made freely to this page, but the text is under no circumstances to be re-uploaded, reproduced, or distributed without the express permission of the author. Address all inquiries to rogue-dot-megawolf(a t)gmail-dot-com