The Mirage Maker

The Mirage Maker
Phillip Layton

1
The impatient ring of the atomiser woke Taylor from his trance. He walked slowly to the kitchen, defying the atomiser’s persistent demand to remove the cooked food. On his arrival, the screen made the insistent demand “YOU ARE WASTING POWER”. He turned the atomiser off in disdain, removed his roast beef sandwich and returned to his seat in the lounge room.
In the lounge room, his best friend and counsel Creagher sat motionless in his seat. Creagher dropped in and out of Taylor’s apartment when he felt like it – he was such a part of the furniture that Taylor barely noticed his comings or goings. At Taylor’s advanced age, it was common for him to forget the little things, such as where he had met Creagher and how he came to be trusted enough to have unlimited access to his apartment. He did not mind these things though, as his friendship and conversation with Creagher had become the most important thing in his life – happiness revolved around the companionship he had with his friend.
Taylor had lost his wife Kim to a fall only three months ago. In the time since the loss, he has had only three constants in his life – his daughter Briohny, his grandson Ajay, and Creagher.
Taylor sat down in front of the blaring television, smelling the roast beef sandwich steaming on the plate in his hand. The weather channel was on, Taylor’s favourite channel; he had always had an amateur interest in meteorology, and his constant companion Creagher seemed to share the interest. As a result, the weather channel was perpetually on the television.
“Not the best thing you should be eating at your age, Tay.” Said Creagher.
Taylor smiled. “I did not notice you coming in. What do you make of the weather today?”
Creagher watched his friend take the first bite of his sandwich. “I believe that a cold front will move through this afternoon, followed by a nasty thunderstorm.”
“I heard the same thing on the weather channel this morning.” Taylor replied. “It is better conversation if you do not watch the same television shows that I do, Creagh.”
“It may broaden the subject matter Tay, but it doesn’t allow for any depth on any topic.”
Taylor smiled wryly. “Agreed.”
The doorbell rang.
“Would you like to get that for me, mate?” Taylor asked.
“It’s your house mate,” came the reply.
With a huff, Taylor rose to his feet and went to open the front door of the apartment.
His next door neighbour Faye stood at the door with a concerned look. She was originally from Guangdong province in China, immigrating to Sydney in her twenties. She was about the same age as Taylor and in their old age had taken to watching out for each other, mainly because there was no one else who would.
Faye grabbed his hands, caressing his thumbs. She spoke sternly. “I need you to follow me. It concerns Briohny and Ajay.”
“I haven’t seen them all week Faye. They were due to come over yesterday but did not come, and they have not called me since.”
“I haven’t seen them either. But we need to talk about them.”
Taylor was put out by the inconvenience, but gave his neighbour the benefit of the doubt. “Watch the place for me please Creagh.”
“Sure,” came the reply.
With that Taylor exited his apartment and followed Faye down the corridor.
Faye opened her apartment door and stepped in, with Taylor following behind. She made her way into the kitchen and grabbed two notepads and two pens. “I need to take a recipe down, and you need to give me your thoughts on it in writing.”
Taylor sighed. “I thought this was about Briohny and Ajay.”
“You have to trust me, Taylor. It is very important.”
Slightly annoyed, Taylor took a seat opposite Faye on the kitchen table, taking a pad and pen while Faye began to frantically scribble on her pad. His neighbour was a very good looking older woman, keeping many of the soft features of her youth even if her once dark straight hair had turned completely grey.
Taylor began to speak as Faye passed the pad over to him. “And what am I looking for in..”
The first words Faye had written took him by surprise.
DO NOT SAY ANOTHER WORD. IT IS LISTENING.
“But Faye, wh…”
“SSSSSHHHHHHH!” Faye interrupted, pointing to the pad Taylor had in front of him.
Taylor started writing on his pad. WHAT IS LISTENING?
Faye quickly wrote her answer.
BEEREEUN.
The word had familiarity in Taylor’s mind, but he couldn’t pinpoint where it came from.
WHAT IS IT?
Faye spoke while she wrote. “Add one cup of sugar and two eggs, and stir with a wooden spoon. You’ll need a pinch of salt and a little bit of baking soda.” She turned her pad to face Taylor.
IT IS A VIRUS THAT CONTROLS YOUR SENSES. IT KILLED YOUR WIFE, AND NOW YOUR DAUGHTER AND GRANDSON ARE MISSING BECAUSE OF IT.
Taylor rocked back in his seat, his face tensed with emotion. Why would this woman try and upset me like this? He thought.
Faye saw the reaction in Taylor’s eyes and began to write on the pad again.
I’M SORRY TAYLOR. IT IS THE TRUTH. YOUR DAUGHTER TOLD ME THIS SEVERAL DAYS AGO. IT HAS TAKEN ME THIS LONG TO FIND OUT THAT IT IS TRUE.
Taylor composed himself and began to write, saying “How long in the oven?” to play along with the charade Faye was giving the virus.
DOES CREAGHAN KNOW ABOUT THIS?
Faye looked at him pitifully. “15 minutes at 180 degrees” she said as she was writing.
CREAGHAN IS THE VIRUS. IT IS A GUARDIAN THE VIRUS PROJECTS ONTO YOUR SENSES TO CONTROL YOU.
Taylor quickly scribbled on his pad.
WHAT SHOULD I DO?
Faye began to scribble away at the pad. “I am going to give you a copy of the icing recipe now. It is much more detailed.” She gave this as an excuse for writing a large amount of text.
FOR TWO DAYS, DO NOT LOOK AT ANY PART OF YOUR BODY, ESPECIALLY IN THE MIRROR OR YOUR HANDS. THE VIRUS HAS COGNITION, BUT ITS MEMORY BECOMES HAZY AFTER A WHILE AND LOSES DETAIL. YOU WILL NOTICE ENOUGH DIFFERENCE IN CREAGHAN TO KNOW THAT IT IS TRUE. YOU WILL FIND A PROGRAM CALLED “BEEREEUN” ON YOUR TELEVISION GUIDE. WHEN YOU GET HOME, WATCH IT AND IT WILL GIVE YOU A FULL EXPLANATION OF WHAT YOU ARE GOING THROUGH WITHOUT LETTING THE VIRUS KNOW WHAT YOU ARE UP TO.
Faye turned to the other room. “M goi dang haa! I’m almost finished. Stay there.” Taylor surmised she was talking to her own guardian.
“There you go Taylor,” she said. “The complete recipe. Make sure you give it to your daughter when you see her. You will see her again, darling.” She gave Taylor a warm embrace.
“I will come and see you to tell you if it is any good Faye.”
“I hope so.”
With that, Taylor left Faye’s apartment and returned to his own.

Creagher turned towards Taylor as he entered the apartment. “What was that about?” he asked purposefully.

Taylor spoke calmly to ensure the virus did not suspect anything. “My next door neighbor wanted to give me a recipe to give to my daughter. I don’t know why she couldn’t give it to her directly.”

Creagher turned back towards the television. “People will always force you to make an effort Tay, put that is not your prerogative anymore. Your prerogative is to stay at home and relax.”

“That’s right!” answered Taylor. “I’m a senior citizen, not a go between.”

Creagher smiled. “That’s what will keep you alive the longest anyway. Your life is all you have – after it, there is nothing.”

“Thanks for the advice, Creagh.” Taylor slowly sat back in his lounge seat and grabbed the remote control. “Do you mind if I look through the channel listings and see what is on?”

“If you like, Tay.” Creagher replied. ‘But I doubt whether there is a television show better than the weather channel.”

Taylor ignored the apparition’s appeals to play safe. Opening up the on screen television guide, he scrolled through the channels until he found one with the title “Beereeun”. He highlighted the channel.

It was a 24 hour shopping channel, surreptitiously dedicated to selling “the finest items at the most affordable price” as their motto said. Behind the façade however, was a 24 hour manual and at hand service for dealing with the Beereeun virus in a format that the virus itself could not suspect foul play.

Down the side of the screen ran a continuous stream of text:

You are here because you have first learned of your infection by the Beereeun virus, a virus that controls your senses. There are specific features of the virus that all infected people need to know:
1.          The virus can see, hear, taste, smell and feel everything that you do.
2.          The virus itself has rudimentary cognitive powers, most specifically memory and the ability to manipulate for the purpose of self preservation.
3.          As a result, the virus can manipulate your sensory perceptions in an attempt to control you. It will almost always create an audio visual apparition (a ‘guardian’) it uses to ensure that you do as little as possible to interrupt its control over you.
4.          It does not have the cognitive powers to understand the written word – this is the primary method we use to communicate.
5.          If you defy the virus in any way, it will make the choice whether you are a danger to its species. If it thinks that you are, it will delude you into killing yourself, killing itself in the process.
6.          There is a drug available – Voriancythin – which attacks the neural receptors in the virus, rendering them dormant for 24 hours or so depending on dosage. However, once you have started taking the drug you cannot stop. If the drug ever wears off, the virus will regain its ability to control your senses and will immediately take steps to kill you. Because of this fact, the government will not release the drug to the population for fear that the supply may run out at any time.
7.          The virus first infected humans around seven months ago, and was so effective that almost the entire population was infected before it was identified. In the first two months, 20% of the population died from adverse reactions to the virus. Another 40% died in subsequent months due to a strained virus/human relationship – this was mainly among the young as the virus found older members of society much easier to control.
8.          If there are people that you are normally in a habit of seeing and who have gone missing, do not worry. The virus instinctively tries to keep infected people house bound and under control. The virus may have forced your visitors to change their habits.
9.          Remember that the primary will of the virus is the will to live, and the survival of its species. Its actions and manipulations will almost always be based around that will. If you keep that in mind you will be able to control it to some extent.

We wish all our citizens well in combating this virus and will inform you immediately if there is a cure.

Complements
The Australian Government

Taylor breathed a sigh of relief. There was a possibility that his daughter and grandson were alive, just that the virus had forced them to stay at home.

He noticed a few additional features of the Beereeun channel – unlike most shopping networks that have a flesh and blood presenter, the presenter on this shopping network was never shown, and his voice had a distinctive lisp, pronouncing his r like a w.

This is deliberate, thought Taylor. I can watch the television without the virus getting an idea of how a normal person talks or looks. In a few days Creagher will appear very strange. But I must make sure I make it as hard as possible for the virus. I must not look at myself.

Taylor smiled. “This channel is fantastic, Creagh. I think we should watch this from now on.”

‘I agree.” Replied Creagher. “There is nothing like shopping from the comfort of your own home.” He laughed warmly, an attempt to comfort Taylor in his decision.

Manipulating little bastard, Taylor thought to himself.


2

Taylor woke up on the second day after his talk with Faye. He had made a point of remembering the purpose of his two day experiment in ignoring himself – when he turned off the television at night, he had made sure it stayed on the newly found “Beereeun” channel, so that when he awoke in the morning he could turn on the television and be reminded of his purpose. He did not trust himself to remember the purpose of finding out the truth that Faye had told him, although the idea of his lost daughter and grandson filled his mind like nothing else, stealing precious sleep to the point that by the second day of his ordeal, he was very tired and became even more worried that he would forget his purpose.
He put a cup of powdered cereal mix into the atomiser and pressed the button. Within a minute, the atomiser had announced it was complete and Taylor pulled a fresh bowl of cereal with milk out, ready to be eaten.

It is hard to remember life without this little invention. Indeed Taylor did remember food before the atomiser, having to spend anywhere from twenty minutes to a couple of hours cooking the food fresh. These days, it was only essential that the correct combination of atoms existed – Taylor would have various powdered ingredients delivered, from which the atomiser rearranged the atoms to form whatever Taylor desired to eat. His culinary appetite had actually broadened since the introduction of the machine.

He sat down in front of the television and turned it on. The Beereeun channel was on, surreptitiously selling a cubic zirconia and sterling silver pendant while along the side of the screen was explaining the real nature of people’s lives – you had lost control of your lives to a virus.

He was most interested to see his “friend” Creagher this morning, however by lunchtime the apparition had not turned up. Maybe it is afraid of projecting the wrong thing, Taylor thought. The experiment is obviously working.

Regardless of the diabolical nature of Creagher’s existence, Taylor still missed his company. As an old man, it was difficult to live your life without company, and even if the virus’s intention was only to control him, it was unintentionally making him a lot happier than he would normally be, left alone and unwanted. Even before his daughter disappeared, he would get a visit from her and her son every week for about an hour. That still left over a hundred hours of every week he had to fill with mediocrity.

He kept solid to his purpose though. If there was anything that made a man’s life worth living, it was the leaving behind of a happy and healthy legacy that loved him. He could not bear the thought of having that legacy disappear before his eyes. I die first. My child will not leave this earth before me. His mantra made clear what his intentions were for this life – total sacrifice for that purpose, and he was determined to find that legacy alive even if the virus killed him for it.

As he went to the kitchen to program his lunch into the atomiser, he caught a glimpse of his face in the window.

“Good morning, old friend.” He heard the voice of what was supposed to be Creagher, but the voice sounded different. The voice was heightened, there was a little crackle to the voice, and there was a lisp on the r, making it sound like a w. Creagher’s voice had changed to sound more like the presenter on the Beereeun channel rather than the presenter on the weather channel, Taylor’s previous channel of choice.

“How are you Creagher?” Taylor replied, not turning too quickly to study his features, in case Creagher suspected him.

“Not so well, mate. I have had a cold this morning, I will try not to give it to you.” Creagher sat down in his seat. “Is there any chance of watching the weather channel this morning, I was growing tired of that endless shopping network you were watching yesterday.”

Taylor looked casually at Creagher, attempting to get as much information as possible without looking like he was staring. He noticed nothing untoward about his appearance. He looked at his hands, just as Faye had asked him to do – it was usually the little details the virus forgot first.

Creagher’s palms were face down on his lap, with his thumbs pointing outwards. This struck Taylor as odd. He looked at his own hands.

He watched as the thumbs on Creagher’s hands changed to the opposite side before his eyes.

Creagher looked up. “Anything the matter Taylor?”

Taylor was panicking. The virus would have noticed the rise in his heart rate, and the trembling through his sense of touch. It would know something was amiss.
He regained his composure and answered in the most level way possible. “I’m fine Creagher. I thought I had lost the remote control there for a second.”

“Oh.” He replied. Creagher pretended to look around, even though he was only an apparition whose sight depended on what Taylor himself saw. “I can’t seem to see it anywhere.”

Taylor grabbed the remote control from under the nearby coffee table. “Ha! Found it.” He exclaimed. He immediately turned the channel over to the weather and sat down.
As much as he could, he tried his utmost to concentrate on the television rather than the apparition. This is maddening, he thought. There is no way I can keep up this pretence of a happy friendship. Either way my life is ruined – I might as well spend it pursuing some semblance of truth.

He turned towards Creagher. “I have been invited to tea at my daughter’s place today, Creagher. Would you mind looking after the place for me while I go?”

Creagher turned to him. “How did she invite you, Taylor? Was it by telephone?” The virus clearly smelt a rat. Taylor himself cared little whether it did or not, but was not sure what the virus was capable of, and in the end finding his daughter was all that mattered.

“No Creagher. She invited me by letter yesterday.” Taylor had received his electricity bill yesterday, but the virus would not be able to distinguish the purpose of any letter so this was a viable excuse for it. If the virus got too inquisitive though, it would pose a problem for Taylor, being an older man with a fading memory. It would only be a matter of time before the virus picked him up on something it remembered, but he didn’t.

“Do you think you are in the state to travel that far? It has been more than three months since you have left this apartment block for your wife’s funeral.”
The sudden pain of his lost wife bit into Taylor’s reply before he could give it, but he composed himself and delivered his thoughts as clearly as possible. “It is about time that I did, Creagher. I’m not getting any younger, but by sitting here all I am doing is getting older.”

“If I cannot talk you out of it, then I won’t.”

Taylor slowly rose off the lounge chair. “You can’t, my friend.” Taylor was becoming more impressed with his ability to create a charade of friendship with his apparition.

“I will look after the place for you then, Taylor.” The virus was good at the charade as well. Both it and Taylor knew that it would see, hear, taste, smell and touch every experience of Taylor’s journey just as he did.

Taylor prepared himself to leave, putting on his outdoor shoes for the first time in at least a year. He found it not too difficult to walk, as he had spent time walking around his apartment as much as he could. Nevertheless, he took a walking staff to make the journey easier for him.

“See you when I get back, mate.”

Creagher returned the nicety. “Take care, Taylor. Don’t hurt yourself.” Taylor read this as, “That’s my body you’re walking in there, take care of it.”

He left the apartment, closing the door shut behind him.

He took the elevator to the ground floor of the apartment block and moved along a small travelator towards the lobby. The block itself was especially designed for senior citizens, and the lobby was manned with reception staff to respond to the needs of the block’s inhabitants.

The receptionist addressed Taylor on his arrival at the front door. “Are you taking a walk today, Mister Edwards?”

“Not specifically.” Taylor replied. “I am going to visit my daughter and grandson for tea.”

The receptionist sifted through the records on his touch screen database. “They are located at Apartment block 2168 in the Canada Bay precinct. I will send a float car for you.”

“Thank you very much.”

“Easy.” Taylor cringed at the receptionist’s response. What’s wrong with an old fashioned “Your Welcome”? Courtesy doesn’t get the response it used to any more, he lamented. He also lamented that he could not discuss such a topic with Creagher, who would almost certainly lend him a sympathetic ear.

Taylor walked through the front doors of the lobby, receiving a harsh welcoming from his estranged friend, the sun. He shielded himself as best he could until the float car arrived a half a minute later.

Float cars were automated taxi services that ran between residential and commercial blocks throughout Sydney. They were powered by magnetics, which allowed for the most efficient point to point travelling distance between source and destination, as well as having an anti collision failsafe in case the journey intercepted other float cars.

Taylor clambered into the float car and closed the door behind him. An automated voice came over the speaker.

“Ready to go passenger?”

“Absolutely.” Taylor said with a smile.

The machine was silent for a while, not moving. Taylor loved screwing with these machines.

“Ready to go passenger?” It repeated its request.

“Most definitely.” Replied Taylor, now feeling amused enough to let out a snicker.

The machine again paused before repeating its request.

This time Taylor said “Yes.”

The float car whirred into action, heading towards Briohny’s apartment block.


3

Taylor awoke from a doze as the float car arrived at the front door of his daughter Briohny’s apartment block.

“We have arrived at your destination, passenger. Would you like to program a return trip?” The automated voice of the float car had a slight crackle – the speaker was in need of replacement.

“Yes,” replied Taylor, not in the mood to play around with the machines programmed protocol this time.

The float car’s control panel dispatched a blue return card. “Swipe this card at the lobby on the completion of your visit.” It said.

Taylor removed the card and exited the float car, closing the door behind him. He was less than a metre away when the vehicle whizzed away to take another passenger.

He entered the lobby of the apartment block. At the reception desk the doorman looked him over curiously.

“May I help you, mate?” He barked.

“Room 234 please.” Taylor replied, struggling to remember the room where his daughter lived.

The doorman busily checked his record. “The records suggest they should be at home, but I cannot let any person into the complex without authorisation.” The doorman looked up at Taylor. “May I ask your business sir?”

“I am Taylor Edwards, her father.”

The doorman gave Taylor a piece of paper and a pen. “What is the name of Miss Edwards’ son?” He asked, motioning to Taylor to write it down.

Taylor wrote his grandson’s name. AJAY. The doorman obviously knew about the virus, Taylor thought.

The doorman relaxed. “I’m sorry mister Edwards, we have to be security conscious. I will let you into your daughter’s apartment.”

The doorman came out from behind his desk and helped Taylor towards the elevator. He was a well built young man in his early twenties, with long platted sideburns in line with the current fashion.

“I’m Erlan.” The doorman revealed to Taylor while ascending in the elevator. ‘I was a friend of Ajay’s, although I haven’t seen him in a few days. I have yet to check out his apartment so I am glad you came.”

The elevator stopped at the correct floor and Taylor and Erlan got out. The apartment was twenty metres along the corridor on the left, Erlan holding Taylor’s arm as they walked.

“Here we are, Mister Edwards.” Erlan waved the magnetic key over the lock and opened the door wide.

Taylor walked in to a shock. For three seconds, he saw blood sprayed all over the walls of the apartment, a scene of absolute carnage.

Then he saw nothing. An apartment in pristine condition.

“Did you see that, sir?” Erlan flew into a rage. “This bastard virus has killed my mate!”

Taylor, although he was transfixed with feelings of guilt and rage, responded calmly. “What are you talking about Erlan?” He replied.

“I can’t keep this charade up, Mister Edwards, I’m gonna…” Erlan froze in an instant. His face turned pale and his pupils dilated. He started shaking uncontrollably.

“Erlan, what is it, son?”

The young doorman had disappeared from the corridor. He was nowhere to be seen.

Taylor knew Erlan was still there, but kept his composure. The virus had a hold of him and he was going to let it for now. There was still a possibility that either his daughter or grandson were alive – he had to keep being coy to the deplorable actions of the virus in an attempt to find out more about the location of his kin.

He entered the apartment, calling the name of his daughter and grandson. There was no answer for a minute. Then, he heard a distant, crackling voice.

“Hi, Dad.”

He looked up to see his daughter Briohny, just as he remembered her – her mouse brown hair dangled down to her shoulders, her deep blue eyes, and the sun reflecting of her white skin.

The curtains are drawn, thought Taylor. This is not my daughter. He looked closer to reveal that her face kept a perpetually smiling expression, similar to the photo he kept in his bedroom. He looked down at her feet, both pointing towards the same direction as if they were both right feet.

“Hello, my dear.” Taylor exclaimed, but he could not hide the moroseness he felt from the words. He hoped the virus would not notice.

“Hi Dad,” said Briohny, or what was supposed to be Briohny. “Would you like to make yourself a cup of tea?”

“Certainly. Would you like one?”

“Hi Dad. Would you like to make yourself a cup of tea?”

The virus had erred. Was it testing Taylor’s reaction to the error? He pondered playing dumb to the question and continuing as if nothing had happened. If he reacted, however, it would leave no question as to his knowledge of the virus. There was no telling what Beereeun would do then.

“I’m fine my dear. I would just like to talk to you.” He decided that playing dumb was the best option.

The image of his daughter quivered. The eyes darkened and lost shape, appearing like shadows on a television screen.

“You are aware of us, Taylor.” It was the voice of Creaghan.

Taylor hung his shoulders, defeated. “Yes. But I must know the whereabouts of my daughter and grandson.”

“We do not know. In here we are not responsible for the actions of the others.” The others obviously referred to the Beereeun virus in other human beings.

“If you show me the truth of this room, I may get an idea,” replied Taylor.

“We do not think it is in yours and our best interests to do so. It may trigger an emotional response that will put our collective lives in jeopardy.”

Taylor pondered his next response. He had given up any hope of seeing his daughter or grandson alive, but hoped at least that he could find out the truth of what happened to them.

“It is not in my best interests to kill myself, even if my daughter and grandson are dead.” Taylor was preparing his response thoughtfully. “I am looking for the truth. With the truth I can relinquish my search, and live out the rest of my life in peace. Even if it was your kind that killed my daughter and grandson, it was your kind in them that killed them. You can not be blamed for that action, just as all humans can not be blamed if one is a murderer.”

The temptation of living its remaining life in peace was the carrot Taylor had prepared for the virus. It took its time to think about what Taylor had said before replying.

“We will show you in five seconds.” The virus replied. “Prepare yourself.”

The room was revealed to Taylor. The entire apartment was covered in blood, only a few patches of the ceiling were spared the blood bath. In the far corner, he saw the decapitated body of his grandson, a tall figure dressed in a doorman’s outfit. His head was nowhere to be found.

In the centre of the room was his daughter, looking the same as she had before except that she was covered in blood and with her face pointing downwards. She carried a machete in her right hand and a kitchen knife in the other hand. It appeared as if she had cut off Ajay’s head, and then killed herself with the knife.

Taylor turned away from the scene in tears, unable to see the two most important parts of his life reduced to nothing. He felt a depressive nihilism creep over him that he had never felt in his entire life – a feeling of complete and utter hatred of existence.

The feeling almost overtook him when something struck him. How do I not know this is just an illusion? He thought. He turned back to the scene, maintaining his dark emotional state of mind.

“Please give me time to confront my grief.” Taylor said to the virus.

“As you wish,” it replied.

Taylor moved towards the body of his daughter and looked over the body. Then a detail struck him and he was overcome with relief.

Her feet were still pointing the same way. She may still be alive, he thought. The virus is showing me this so that I stop searching for them.

Taylor hid his elation by thinking that even if this was a glimmer of hope, he had seen the blood bath on entry to the apartment. At least one of them was dead. This put him back in his morose state of mind as he left the apartment.

“I am ready to go home now, if that makes you happy.” Taylor said to the virus.

Still using the voice of Creaghan, the virus replied, “That would make us very happy.”

4

Taylor shuffled his way back to the apartment door, shoulders hunched. The depressing feeling of uselessness crept over him – a feeling he had felt at the lowest times in his life. This time however, there was nothing that could pull him out of it, not a sympathetic spouse nor a loving child or grandchild. I am the walking dead, He thought. All that I have lived for, worked for or taken pride in has been reduced to ash. There is no way I can reclaim it in my physical state. I must die and remove the burden of my body from society.

He forced his way into the apartment, straining his weak muscles in an attempt to allow his body passage. Slowly staggering his way to his favourite lounge chair, he sat down and stared blankly at the television set, seeing his reflection in the empty screen.

He noticed the apparition of Creaghan on the other lounge seat. “Not now. I have no time for you just now,” he barked at the apparition.

“We are all you have, Taylor. Can’t we reach a resolution on this?”

“How can I trust you?” said Taylor. “You fed me the apparition of my dead daughter to stop me from searching for her, you may as well not have bothered. I am beyond searching for anyone, both you and I know it.”

“We regret lying to you, but it is in our best interests to do so.” The apparition moved forward in its seat in an attempt to look sincere, as he had seen many of the reporters do on the weather channel. “We do not choose to be dependent on you for survival – but it is made that way. Are we to allow our species to perish because you are inconvenienced? You humans are strange – you would destroy yourselves if the reality of your lives varies in any way from your expectations. Everything else that inhabits this planet lives for nothing other than the propagation of life. There is no other meaning, no other goal. This is a goal that we can realize together, but your expectations of life allow no room for us to exist.”

Taylor pondered the answer, trying to understand what the virus wanted him to do. He was filled with powerful emotions of vengeance, however when he got to the point where he could go no further without acting on them, he realized that it required self harm to do so, and the emotions subsided.

“I feel close to giving up.” He said wearily. “There is not a single thing in my life worth living for – you and your kind have taken that away from me. Even you will be able to see the fruit of procreation, the knowledge that you have produced life that will continue well after you are gone. You and your kind have taken that away from me, and somehow I will enact vengeance on you for it.”

Creaghan laughed. “I don’t mean to poke fun at you when you are feeling so down, but have you ever considered your role in the human race a little bigger than just a breeding agent? This is how species such as us survive, and will keep surviving well after you are gone. That small pinch of life we experience is a vital component of an endless cycle of life that keeps us growing, adapting and continuing through time. You are a component of your species, just as we are a component of ours. Further to that, we are also components of each other – we are allies. The parasite and its host are allies, just as every relationship in this world between living things is an alliance, even the predator and the prey. These alliances live through the ages, filling all species with strength, sometimes taking the weakest ones. Our relationship is one of the most complementary – for a small loss of free will, you have a relationship with an organism that will work with you to extend your life as effectively as possible. No relationship in nature could be so mutually advantageous.”

Taylor scowled. “It didn’t seem that way to the people you killed.”

Creaghan looked at him blankly. “It is not us, Taylor. Your grandson’s death is a tragedy to us. Many millions of our species died in that tragedy with your grandson. We gladly hope for a time where human beings will learn to live with us in peace, live extended lives that won’t involve tragedies such as your grandson’s death. We have a lot invested in you as well, Taylor.”

“What causes these problems is your mind controlling nature.” Taylor replied. “If you were more passive in the way you inhabited us there would not be any problems.”

“Did it seriously bother you that much before you realized you were manipulated, Taylor? Does it bother you enough now that you will kill yourself just to spite us? We don’t think so. We think that you are by nature an idle person, and this is just the type of person that will last long in this world. You humans have so successfully guaranteed life for your species, that in many cases you have to do very little to survive. Make no mistake, the rest of the natural world are very impressed. It is this growing idleness that we seek to take advantage of, it was only a matter of time before one species did it.”

“So what do you want me to do then? Sit on my butt in this apartment? Pretend that you are not there and take every sensation you feed me as truth? I don’t know if I can live like that.”

Creaghan sat motionless for a while. The virus was trying desperately to think of the right things to say to Taylor to make him passive again.

“We will attempt to be as honest with you as possible, even though with your failing memory you may forget about the last couple of days yourself. In return, we don’t want you going around stirring the pot – you could get people killed. Just live the rest of your life as our partner Taylor, rather than our enemy. We will give you whatever companionship you require for the rest of your life.”

Taylor thought about this for a while. He knew there was a possibility that his daughter was still alive. Taking his own life will mean that if she is in desperate need for his help, he will not be around.

He endeavored to make his enslavement as happy as possible “You will allow me any companion I want?” Taylor asked the virus.

“Anything.” The virus replied.

Taylor slowly got up from his seat and shuffled towards a side cabinet in his television unit. There were piles of old image discs, some ordered in cases, some haphazardly strewn through the cabinet. He found the disc he was looking for in one of the cases, one of his old home videos. In marking pen on the disc was written in capital letters:

KIM AND TAYLOR’S BIG DAY

Taylor put the disc in the player, returned to his seat and turned on the player.

He turned to the motionless image of Creagher in the seat beside him.

“If you want me to cooperate, this is who you are to be for the rest of our lives,” he said.

The virus had already begun to imitate the vocal patterns of his wife. “Whatever you say, my darling.”