Macronomicon
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Chapter 250: Condom Horse
🕑 Added 2024-02-12 18:13:17 +0000 UTC***Somewhere in Wyoming***
A mourning dove flitted down to a branch and paused for a moment to scan the forest floor and nearby trees for tasty seeds.
Something was wrong. The bird didn’t really have the words to describe it, but something about the forest had felt…off over the last few months. The dove had unknowingly been herded further and further west as its instincts, honed over millions of years, warned the bird that it was being hunted.
It didn’t see a predator…but something was wrong.
The dove didn’t spare it any thought, though, its tiny brain instead registering delight when it spotted some fresh seeds on the ground.
When it leapt off the branch, that’s when things started going poorly for the bird.
The dove’s feet were held in place by a sticky substance coming from the branch itself.
In panic, the dove pulled as hard as it could, but the branch’s grip was simply too strong. A maw emerged from the branch and engulfed the bird.
A moment later, all that remained of the dove was a lump in the tree-branch.
But its story didn’t stop there.
Over the course of a few minutes, the lump in the tree branch dwindled to nothing, then swelled again, returning to its previous size and shape. moments after it reached full size the dove burst out of the cocoon, flapping its wing in panic as it escaped from the creature that had just let it go.
Now properly terrified, the bird decided to fly until it simply couldn’t anymore, find a new forest and settle down there. There was just too much scary stuff happening around here for the dove’s tiny brain to handle.
Best relocate.
The Dove got about five miles outside the forest before it disappeared in an explosion of feathers.
“Aw, man, I don’t like shooting animals. That was a dove.” Kenny said, lowering his binoculars.
“Them’s the rules,” Gary said, lowering his rifle. “Shoot anything and everything coming out of those woods. This is a holy mission from Tyrannus himself.”
“You believe that god stuff?” Kenny asked.
“Can you breathe fire and fly?”
“Fair enough, I guess.” Kenny muttered raising his binoculars and scanning for small animals that might be trying to escape the quarantine, just like the hundreds of spotters to his immediate left and right.
“be right back, I’mma take a dump,” Gary said, raising the flag that indicated their shooter was on break.
Kenny followed him.
“What are you doing?” Gary asked.
“Did you not hear the Acolyte explain in great detail that we weren’t to leave each other’s sight?”
“I mean you don’t gotta…” Gary trailed off.
“So it’s a divine mission when you get to shoot small animals, but not if someone’s gotta follow you to the bathroom?” Kenny asked.
“Fuck you, let’s get this over with,” Gary muttered as he stalked away into the bushes, Kenny close behind. The sharpshooter hooked his thumbs in his pants and prepared to pop a squat, using a nearby fallen log as an impromptu toilet seat
Dozens of tendrils whipped out of the log and lashed around Gary’s arms and chest.
“Um. Kenny?” Gary said, his voice quavering.
“Oh, shit!” Kenny shouted, reeling backwards.
Above them, the sky turned a vibrant shade of gold and crimson as a dome of shimmering magic settled over the forest they’d been quarantining, as well as a quarter mile beyond, trapping all the soldiers inside.
“Oh.” Kenny said, looking up, his heart sinking. “Shit.”
Then the dome began to glow, and Kenny could feel the heat building from it, like the warmth of a campfire, an oven, a forge, a raging bonfire.
“You want the bad news or the good news?” Kenny said to his struggling partner.
“Good news, please.” Gary hissed, still struggling against the tendrils digging into his skin.
“You’re not gonna get eaten,” Kenny said moments before the dome went white hot, vaporizing everything under it. There was an instant of pain, then nothing…
“Excess biomass removed from the area,” Amanda the Technician said, looking a little green around the gills as they observed the dome flicker out of existence, revealing a patch of flat carbon dust where once had been a forest and several hundred loyal citizens.
“Good,” Tyrannus said, lowering his claws. Vaporizing such a huge swath of land was exhausting, but he would never let his subjects know he had limits. He needed to arrange a new deal with demonic entities yesterday, but so many of them were hesitant to make arrangements with someone who had wiped an entire breed of them out.
Since his deal with demons had fallen through, the road was dying. Normally he’d be able to borrow its power to produce effects of this magnitude, but in order to preserve its withering life as long as he could, Tyrannus was forced to shoulder the burden manually.
“Send in the heavy equipment to peel back the surface and make sure there isn’t a primary body under there.” Tyrannus said.
Minutes later, the ash-covered soil was being peeled back, making sure there were no substantial lumps of Mimic preserved underneath.
After getting the tip from Paradox, Tyrannus had shifted his research into the tales of Abun’zaul’s tactics and those of mimics in general. The creature seemed to have a penchant for storing most of its bulk underground while copying entire cities above.
It had moved slowly through the northwest of Manita, oozing through the topsoil inches per day, turning one city after another into an inexplicable ghost town over hundreds of years, finally stopping when it took its act too far and killed itself as revenge against…itself.
Allegedly.
Evidence was slim.
“Did we have to…burn our own men too?” Amanda asked.
“Short answer: Yes.” Tyrannus said, glancing down at the tiny ape. “The long answer is the virulence of the mimic is such that a single infected human can destroy the entire west coast, and both divination and statistics indicated that fifteen percent of those under the dome had likely become infected, knowingly or unknowingly.”
“If we do not come down on this disease with the righteous force and unwavering determination that it demands, we may lose our lives, and our very country to this monster.”
The math favored a zero-tolerance policy.
“I see.” Amanda the lab tech nodded, still a little sick-looking, but with newfound resolve.
***Chris Sunflower***
“You already did every test known to man,” Chris said, desperately wishing he could punch the balding egghead through the four-inch thick glass he was sequestered behind. “Let me go or kill me already.”
“And where’s my family? I went to the Acolytes Specifically so they could do something about the problem, but they just shoved me in a box. Fan-fucking-tastic.”
Chris paced back and forth, not giving the balding professor a chance to respond. He already knew their answers anyway.
“I assure you-“
“And where’s Mary?” Chris demanded. “Why the hell are you keeping me – us – in a tiny glass box anyway?” He gestured emphatically to the ten by ten glass box he was currently pacing. “The fuck?”
He felt like someone’s prize beetle.
“You friend is-“
“I swear to god if I get my hands on my dad I’m gonna whip his ass.” Chris muttered, pacing back and forth. He’d promised it. If his stupid farming gambit got his siblings or mom hurt…
Gee, I couldn’t have known the most dangerous, untamed place in the empire would have dangerous, untamed monsters, Chris. Whoops!
Chris vividly imagined a right hook to the jaw to put Harv on the ground, followed by some crisp kicks to tender areas.
“I assure you…” The balding clipboard jockey said, hesitating a moment to make sure Chris wasn’t going to interrupt him again. “Your friend is fine, the authorities are aware of the problem, and actively working to contain it. Your family has been relocated to a similar quarantine site.”
Chris had deferred to authority…the first couple days. But if there was any valuable skill Harv had taught him…it was disrespect.
“Really?” Chris said.
“Of course.”
“Pics or it didn’t happen.”
“What?”
“Give me polaroid pictures of my friend and my family. Or does that somehow violate quarantine?”
“That’s…”
“They’re dead, huh?” Chris asked, his guts turning cold.
“No. I’ll pass your request up the chain.” The man said, standing from his stool. “The information we’re allowed to give you is somewhat restricted.
“WHY!?” Chris demanded.
“Because while all the tests we’ve conducted on you and your friend have come back negative, both of your accounts of the day you escaped the creature have some…inconsistencies.”
That would be the sex, Chris thought, jaw clenching up. Neither of them were particularly eager to be forthcoming about it.
“From what we know of the creature’s tactics and previous history, your escape is considered to be highly likely to be a deliberate super-spreader event. You will remain under surveillance until we are one hundred percent sure you are Chris Sunflower, and not a trojan horse. Beyond a hundred percent, even.”
Chris rolled his eyes.
“I’m not a condom-horse, obviously.” He motioned to himself.
The bearer of the almighty clipboard pushed up his glasses and scowled.
“I’ll add a note to your file that children should be introduced to the classics more often in school.”
“I was homeschooled.” Chris said.
“It shows.”
***Richard Tinner***
Richard, or Rich to his friends – calling Richard ‘Dick’ went out of style a long time ago – was parking another impounded car.
Parking a performance demonic sports car with eight imp-power thrumming under the hood was the highlight of his drab existence. For a brief moment he got to feel like the rich kid whose parents had bought him a fancy new toy.
Before he’d got caught driving while intoxicated, anyway.
Soon enough, the money would change hands, the kid would get a slap on the wrist, and Rich and…
Let’s call her Esmerelda, on account of the paint job and the sassy accelerator.
Rich and Esmerelda would soon part, but for a brief time, he got to drive her…down to the parking spot.
Rich turned off the sports car with a sigh, missing the days when he could do donuts in the lot and take his ‘clients’ out on joyrides with impunity.
Goodbye Esmerelda. I’ll never forget you.
He popped open the door and stepped out into the impound parking garage, taking in the faint sulfur scent of demon blood and motor oil, the most sensory information he could get in the dim lot, since it had barely enough light to find the open spaces between cars.
Wait…
Rich frowned as his ears picked up a faint, distinctive squeaking sound. A rhythmic squeak of suspension that could only be two things:
Horny teenagers going at it in an impound lot.
Or somebody trying to steal their piece of shit car back, since they couldn’t afford the impound fees or a new car.
Rich preferred the former. It was fun to watch kids run full-speed with their pants around their ankles.
He pulled his oversized flashlight from his belt and scanned it in the direction of the squeaking.
Hmm.
Usually turning on the flashlight was enough to make any trespassers bolt, but whoever was doing the deed back there was really into it.
Squeak, squeak, squeak, squeak…
Rich rolled his eyes at the distinctive sound and began hoofing it that way, scanning the cabins for movement.
He found the winner a moment later, a rusty hood wiggling back and forth in time to some kid’s vigorous thrusting.
It was the 1956 F-100.
“God-damnit!” Rich hissed, breaking into his best furious waddle.
Some bigwig had handed down an order for the truck to be destroyed, some sort of accessory to a crime or something stupid like that. Rich had recognized the truck though. It was part of a limited run of six thousand trucks produced in the fifties. Sure, it was a rust-bucket, but if he took it home and cleaned it up, he could walk away with upwards of twenty grand for the collector truck. Maybe more.
So he faked the documents stating that it’d been destroyed, gave the truck a fake license and was currently clearing out a spot in his garage to house the thing so he could get to work on it.
He’d be damn pissed if some teens were messing with his payday.
“Hey you kids better-“ Rich said, leaning against the truck and pointing his flashlight down into the cabin.
Nothing.
Frowning, he leaned to the right and checked the bed of the truck.
Obvious in hindsight, I suppose.
Also nothing.
Did they just bolt and I didn’t see them? There’s nowhere to hide…
All of Rich’s questions were answered when he tried to take his hand off the rusty panelling.
I’m…stuck?
For a brief instant, he thought he might be the subject of a prank by Roger, but a moment later, an eye opened up on the truck’s rusty paneling.
“Oh, shit.” Were Rich Tinner’s last words.
Comments
PlasmaticPi
Ok that makes sense. But should probably mention that in upcoming chapters. Also could maybe say since they are so small they wouldn't be able to eat anyone fast enough to not be caught or killed even by regular humans.
Macronomicon
I'm gonna go by Parasyte rules and say it's intelligence and abilities are limited by size, so really small ones would be stupid and unable to hold their form.
PlasmaticPi
Hold on. Tyrannus confirmed this through people paying their taxes too much. What if they used mimic money or mimic tax paperwork?
Hayden Leech
BUT THE BOX IS ABUN’ZAUL!!!
Hayden Leech
I hate it! Great idea though. Just send a mysterious box to ten random addresses in every city the mail service reaches. Brutal.
STORRM
yea the road getting infected with mimic would be reeeeeeeeeeeaall bad.
Apotheosis
I've pointed it out before, but if you really look at it something like 80% of the problems in this story can be directly or indirectly linked to paradox
HenryMorgan
Which is more than a large proportion of students in the USA or anywhere in the english speaking west.
John Pratt
Nah, Aban'zaul isn't a world ending threat. It has a maximum mass that it eventually gets to, so it isn't a grey goo situation. Zaul wasn't even the most dangerous thing in Pre-Tide Manita, it's just creepy and a bit better than the average bear at breaking containment. The real threat is still Solaris, who can actually end the world. Zaul is just a complication to that situation, since Solaris is getting paranoid right before "Invasion of the Body Snatchers"
Joe ?
I cashed it "Yeah, when it comes to the legendary mimic that learned magic and killed itself, I have to assume Mary is a mimic after the feral snarl at her siblings. Also her whole family, Chris, Chis's family, the truck, each of their giant sunflowers, the road, the tractor demon."
Pastor Joubert
Monster movie time!
Leeland
Reminds me of an old joke: A woman asks her husband why he needs a gun, and he says to kill Mimics. The man laughs, the wife laughs, the toaster laughs. The man shoots the toaster.
John Pratt
The problem with homeschooling is that it has no standards. Your parents cared about your education, so they did their best to teach you. It isn't only parents who care that are allowed to homeschool. Chris had a father that wanted to use his kids as free labor, historically a very common attitude. His father only cared about his education as it related to Chris doing work on a farm, so Chris can read, do math and drive but that's probably about it.
John Brady Anderson
In a direct comparison, public schools currently do better, primarily because many homeschools are not doing very much educating, merely some religious indoctrination or neglect. There are certainly parents who do as well or even far better than public schools, but testing statistics show that these are not a majority
Dee
I do love how creepy ‘Zul is as an antagonistic force—and I say that as I’m unsure he ‘Zul could be considered an antagonist. They have more the feel of a force of nature than anything else. Mimic’s gotta mimic and there’s an interesting thought to analyze in that a lot of the negative things ascribed to ‘Zul outside of it’s predatory nature could be ascribed to the things it/they copy.
Yshua
Findell now there’s an opinion that raises interesting questions about neglect of the classics in modern public education, doesn’t it?
Stephen E Wilson Jr.
Yeah, Tyranus's mind is always clouded by draconic rage. It's only because of his human education that he has the perspective to look past it. Pretending deference for an intellectual inferior enrages him and educated populace that reveres him is a boon to his pride.
Andrew
Thank you!
Hayden Leech
I like Amanda the technician. She’s been through a lot. Nearly got vaporized when Perry sent a Tyrannus Gna’kis shaped bomb through Nargosh, almost crushed to death when Perry’s corpse showed up to get his soul back. Watched hundreds of her people get incinerated by her boss to contain another one of Perry’s… incidents. I think there’s more. But man Perry owes her an apology.
mhaj58
Replicazaul would be a better name, but is this new mimic a combination of Abun Zaul and the Replicators with a System or some other combination of the three?
Hayden Leech
Oh my god that’s so much worse than I thought! Plants! A truck! Oof!
Dominic Harney
It’s like every zombie movie, but with mimics. Some dipshit try’s to smuggle something in or gets creative with their looting, and boom, you wake up with your blanket trying to choke you and your wardrobe now has legs and big teeth
Findell
You have to prepare everyone for the eventuality of them possibly arising to being a super. So you have to stuff morals into them as best as possible and tales like the classics are the easyiest ways to do this.
austin kutz
They probably do simply because Tyranus is too prideful to rule the uneducated. He's a dragon that hordes knowledge, he definitely has a complex about people who are less intelligent or knowledgeable than himself
Sanairb
So it is a Robo-Zaul? I wasnt sure how it would work since it was created to be an android version.
Gardor
As much as it may not be in vogue anymore, I'm definitely getting "Rick and Morty abandon a universe after some colossal fuck up" vibes from this situation.
Nicholas Grey
Replica had better DO something about this. It’s entirely his responsibility, after all.
Nathan Quitugua
You know, maybe good ol legendary mimic will grow a conscience this time and take revenge sooner before he destroys another civilization
Apotheosis
I liked all the different perspectives
Apotheosis
Whelp, might be best to head off to a new world with those that can be verified aren't zaul and aren't carrying anything made of zaul. The real question is do we go back to manita or get a third world to party in?
Yshua
I’m legitimately curious as to whether home or public school is (in the real world) better correlated with knowledge of the classics. I was home schooled through elementary school. There I learned Greek and Latin roots, elementary Latin, and spent plenty of time on the classics. When I returned to public school I can’t recall the Trojan War even being mentioned, much less the rest. Here in post-apocalyptic, magic-ridden America where an ambitious but farmer is taking his family to the frontier, the ignorance is fairly credible. The implication, though, is that whatever school system Tyrannus has set up does educate his people in the classics. I wouldn’t expect this.
PlasmaticPi
Ok that is a nice touch. I didn't realize how much it could mimic. Because of all the focus on it mimicking people I never actually thought of how far it could go by mimicking objects. Like imagine if it just packaged itself up as a copy of some trinket or a letter and shipped itself across the country.
Darune Albane
Was a nice setup too many do stuff like this and there is no real link or not linked to the overall story .. you have a link
austin kutz
Damn, mimicking a car is a great idea for a condom horse. Symbolically similar to the original as well
Macronomicon
Now that most of the important stuff i had going on is behind me, I'm gonna try to resume 3/week. Apologies for the fractured viewpoints. Gotta do it to give the audience a better idea of how Zaulinator is spreading.
