Hive Minds Give Good Hugs

Fire.

My legs are on fire. A burning pain flows up from my screaming feet, cracking through the rest of my body. I gasp for air, unable to breathe. I can't do this. I can't do this…! The end is so close, but I can't make it. I can't! Yet the burning will stop if I can just… run… a little… farther!

I cross the finish line.

There's no ribbon to burst with my chest, no cheering crowd. The excitement for a middle school track meet was never particularly high to begin with, and it already died to nil long before I finished. Nobody cares about the chubby girl coming in last, except to pity her.

I stagger off the track and find a tree to sit under, out of sight from the bleachers. Resting my head on my knees, I wait for the pain to stop, too tired to cry. An arm wraps around my side, pulling me in tight. I look up to see my mom's smiling face, beaming with genuine warmth at her failure of a daughter.

"Great job, honey!" she says, as tickled as she can be. "That was a new personal best!"

"I got last, mom," I grumble. Her happiness seems… intrusive. I already know what she's going to say.

"We don't care about that," she predictably insists. "You're doing this for yourself. You don't have to win."

"I'm doing it because you're making me," I grumble back. "I don't want to be here. I don't want to do any of this."

"It's good for you," she retorts. "You know that. You need to exercise to manage your ADHD. You had to choose one sport to do at school, so you chose—"

"I know!" I huff.

Then again, more quietly so she doesn't get mad at my raised voice, I repeat it.

"I know."

It wasn't really much of a choice; track and field won by default. The other options my middle school offers were various flavors of team-moves-ball (also known as I Still Suck But Also My Failures Affect Others), Tennis (Me Losing Constantly: 1v1 Beatdown Edition) and Wrestling (which is only open to girls by law; in practice it's all boys… boys that would be in spandex, trying to touch me). At least when I'm the worst at Track and Field nobody seems to care. Plus, you know, my mom isn't wrong. She's basically always very explicitly Not Wrong in enough ways that arguments against her are considered inherently unreasonable and combattative, indicative of some character flaw on my part. There are, after all, heaps of legitimate scientific studies demonstrating a clear helpful relationship between exercise and ADHD symptoms. Exercise is stupid mega good for the body, and that goes double for my f'd-up brain.

But I just hate it so much.

My mom continues to hug me. I push her off, because it's hot and both of us are sweaty and gross. My mind starts to wander, eyes searching the grass. Nearby I notice a daddy long-legs jittering erratically through the grass in that fun, hypnotizing way of theirs. I happily reach out my hand and let it crawl on, bringing the creature up closer to my face. My mother recoils back a bit further, having always been horrified of bugs. She still got me an insect taxidermy kit for Christmas, though. A fancy one.

"You know… your father and I were talking," my mother starts.

This actually manages to peel my attention away from the cute bug, because that sentence traditionally precedes something really good or really, really bad.

"We were thinking of getting you a pet," she says.

I look up, surprised and elated.

"Really?" I ask.

"Mm-hmm!" my mother happily confirms. "You've been doing well in school, and in track. You've earned it. So if you score another personal best at an event today, we can head to the humane society on the way home and you can see if there are any animals you like."

My face falls.

"...They don't have any tarantulas at the humane society," I say quietly.

"I… I know, honey. We can… we can look at tarantulas too. But don't you think it's good to see all of the options before you make such a… um. Such a big… um. Sweetie. You have a spider on your face, honey."

Why is she telling me that? It's my face, I can feel it there. I close one eye, letting my new friend continue up the lid towards my hair.

"Tarantula," I insist.

"Alright," my mom sighs, "we will look at the humane society, and afterwards also find somewhere that sells tarantulas."

"Yay!" I cheer.

I'd rather skip looking at the dogs and cats and junk, but I won't hear the end of it if I try to avoid that step so this is the best I'm gonna get. Besides, who cares!? Pet spider!!!

I try my absolute hardest on the next two events, but I don't hit any more personal bests. I start sobbing in the car ride home, but my mother promises that the offer is still open: next track meet, she says, I'll get my pet if I keep doing well.

When that rolls around, I set personal bests in every event I participate in. A few times I wasn't even last! After the track meet ended, despite my aching exhaustion, I bounced in my seat all the way to the pet store.

"Oh no, ma'am, the rose hair is one of the most docile species of tarantula on the planet, and even in the rare cases they do bite, their venom isn't very dangerous to humans."

The pet store clerk is explaining how tarantulas work to my mom, even though I already know everything and told her three times. It would be annoying if I wasn't busy carrying my future pet-to-be. The clerk tried to tell me something when I declared their name, but my mom shook her head at him and he shut up.

That's the story of how I got my first and so far only pet, the wonderful and perfect Mr. Bubbles. My mom always hated that spider, and never once got near her. Yet without fail, she would support me with whatever I needed to take care of my fuzzy, eight-legged friend. She let me bring live crickets into the house and bought me the veggies to gut load them with. She let me carry the spider around when it was feeling active. She paid for heating pads to keep its tank the right temperature and listened to me babble on and on about the mundane nothings it did every day.

It was obvious she understood none of it and liked it even less. Even as a kid, I could recognize those pained expressions, distant tones, and long sighs. The thing I loved most in the world was nothing but a chore to her, something she was compromising on against what she saw as her better judgment. But she supported me, all the same.

…

"So that's basically everything that happened," I finish.

The phone crackles as my mother and father pause to take in everything I've just told them.

"...So, you let a homeless immigrant live in your dorm with you," my mother summarizes, disapproval dripping from her tone.

"A refugee, yes."

"But you don't know where she's from," she presses.

"She doesn't tell people," I say simply.

"Okay," my mom confirms. "And then this homeless woman broke into someone's house, and you followed her? And then you got arrested."

"She broke in because she heard a cry for help. And we didn't get arrested."

"But you'll have to go to court," my mother clarifies.

"Yeah, probably," I agree. "But they might just need a written testimony from me. I'm not sure, but Sasha's lawyers are kind of terrifying."

"Yeah, that's a story I want to hear about too, glowbug!" my dad chimes in. "How did you befriend the daughter of Alexander Thornton?"

Huh?

"She, uh, made me cry in a restaurant?" I answer honestly. "Who's Alexander Thornton?"

"Oh, just some billionaire," my dad says nonchalantly. "Also, ouch! Are you doing okay? I guess I just assumed she was your friend, if she's not that's fine."

I smile. He means that, at least. He's just curious. My dad is kind of a goof.

"Uh, I guess she's not… not my friend?" I tell him. "I'm not really sure. I thought she was mean at first but she seems genuinely sorry. I just feel like I'm using her, you know? Like, I haven't ever actually asked her to spend money on me, but somehow it feels like I owe her my friendship after all she's done to help me out."

"Can we focus, please?" my mother insists. "Evelyn, you can't go around lending your room to random homeless people. It's not safe!"

"Wait, that's what you were worried about? This was a special case! I'm not… it's not random!"

"It's not legal either, Evelyn. You don't own that apartment and you can't let people live in it that aren't on the lease."

"Okay!? Well, she's probably not getting out of jail despite being an awesome hero, so I guess you don't have to worry about it!"

That's… somewhat of a lie, I'm ashamed to admit. That particular body of Tara's isn't coming back, but… well, I've certainly heard from her since my scare this morning. The first thing I did was try to contact her.

[EightFriendlyLegs]: Tara? Are you okay?

[EightFriendlyLegs]: Tara where are you?

[EightFriendlyLegs]: Tara it’s okay I’m not mad.

[EightFriendlyLegs]: Please answer me.

[EightFriendlyLegs]: Tara?

[KidnappedCthulhu]: oh

[KidnappedCthulhu]: apologies

[EightFriendlyLegs]: Tara!!!

[KidnappedCthulhu]: everything is fine i am at the library

[KidnappedCthulhu]: i was back in my cave for a while

[KidnappedCthulhu]: i wanted to drop off those clothes

[EightFriendlyLegs]: Oh, thank goodness. But Tara, if you just vanish without telling me where you’re going, I’ll worry! I was afraid you left for good, or something happened to you!

[KidnappedCthulhu]: you are very silly

[KidnappedCthulhu]: although your concern is both endearing and appreciated

[KidnappedCthulhu]: i will be sure to tell you if i am going to be gone in the future

[KidnappedCthulhu]: i just thought maybe you would want to have some time alone for a while

[EightFriendlyLegs]: ...Ah. I, uh, appreciate that. But you could like, ask me if that’s the case instead of disappearing?

[KidnappedCthulhu]: well

[KidnappedCthulhu]: it seems rather obvious when you just say it like that

[EightFriendlyLegs]: Hah! You dork!

[KidnappedCthulhu]: i believe your people have a particularly inscrutable saying about pots and kettles

[EightFriendlyLegs]: Oh, don’t give me that “your people” stuff! You’re already twice the human I am!

[KidnappedCthulhu]: oh

[KidnappedCthulhu]: hmm

[KidnappedCthulhu]: that is a frightening thought

[KidnappedCthulhu]: also it is eight times actually

[EightFriendlyLegs]: You have EIGHT human bodies already???

[KidnappedCthulhu]: they only take a day or so to hatch

[EightFriendlyLegs]: No, I mean… don’t you think you’re going a little fast?

[KidnappedCthulhu]: i am not sure i understand

[EightFriendlyLegs]: Well, you’re kind of rapidly accelerating away from who you were, right? Don’t you want to go home someday? Aren’t you afraid of… I don’t know, becoming some kind of weird alien monster?

[KidnappedCthulhu]: i already am a weird alien monster

[EightFriendlyLegs]: Tara!

[KidnappedCthulhu]: no listen

[KidnappedCthulhu]: of course i want to go home someday

[KidnappedCthulhu]: it is my home

[KidnappedCthulhu]: and of course i am furious that something stole me from it and turned me into something else without my knowledge or understanding

[KidnappedCthulhu]: but it does me no good to ignore it

[KidnappedCthulhu]: something took me and made me into a terrifying creature

[KidnappedCthulhu]: that will never stop being true

[KidnappedCthulhu]: but i get to decide what i do with that

[KidnappedCthulhu]: and i am happy i used it to save nadia

[EightFriendlyLegs]: Is that the name of the woman from the house?

[KidnappedCthulhu]: yes it is

[KidnappedCthulhu]: she wanted to see me but they will not let her out of the hospital yet

[KidnappedCthulhu]: so she wrote me a letter

[KidnappedCthulhu]: she called me an angel it was sweet

[KidnappedCthulhu]: apparently she is employed by that man

[KidnappedCthulhu]: she is not his wife

[EightFriendlyLegs]: Oh god.

[KidnappedCthulhu]: an odd sentiment for an atheist but i concur

[KidnappedCthulhu]: not that him abusing his wife would have been any better

[EightFriendlyLegs]: This is so fucked up.

[KidnappedCthulhu]: yes extremely

[KidnappedCthulhu]: we are so lucky to have been there to stop it

[KidnappedCthulhu]: i had just been habitually checking out the areas around us in a mix of curiosity and mild paranoia

[KidnappedCthulhu]: i saw her by complete accident

[KidnappedCthulhu]: it almost was like divine guidance

[EightFriendlyLegs]: Or probability, but yeah. It was a good thing we did. Well, a good thing you did that I was also there for.

[KidnappedCthulhu]: hmm it is odd you should mention probability

[KidnappedCthulhu]: it is almost like you think this is a relatively common occurrence

[EightFriendlyLegs]: Um…

[KidnappedCthulhu]: i am goading you i already looked it up

[KidnappedCthulhu]: 13.8 percent of men and 24.3 percent of women have been the victim to severe physical violence by an intimate partner

[KidnappedCthulhu]: twenty four point three percent

[KidnappedCthulhu]: by a so called partner

[KidnappedCthulhu]: behind closed doors

[KidnappedCthulhu]: that is not even the most terrifying set of numbers

[EightFriendlyLegs]: ...This is you saying it’s not a problem that you invade people’s privacy on a regular basis, isn’t it?

[KidnappedCthulhu]: this is me saying that the fact anyone is willing to sacrifice their personal safety for the risk of privacy is completely insane

[KidnappedCthulhu]: why do your people even care so much about privacy

[KidnappedCthulhu]: it makes you feel slightly better

[KidnappedCthulhu]: at the cost of things that make me vomit to even think about typing again

[KidnappedCthulhu]: it is actual madness

[EightFriendlyLegs]: ...Okay. I mean, you’re not wrong that most people want privacy because they just sort of like it. But… there are still good reasons for it. Like, if the government decided it wanted to murder you, you’d need to be able to hide yourself from the government.

[KidnappedCthulhu]: but if a murderer wanted to murder me i would not want them to be able to hide from the government

[EightFriendlyLegs]: Well… yeah, that’s true. But that’s why you have to balance things out. You can’t give one group all the power, or else you have no failsafe if that group ends up being evil. Your system has to be able to fail gracefully, because someday it WILL fail.

[KidnappedCthulhu]: hmm

[KidnappedCthulhu]: so like my government

[EightFriendlyLegs]: Uh, maybe?

[KidnappedCthulhu]: it is you were right

[KidnappedCthulhu]: i read the books you recommended and researched some of your historical regimes and so on

[KidnappedCthulhu]: they take information for themselves and repress it for others in order to ensure obedience and servitude

[KidnappedCthulhu]: it is somewhat obvious from an outside perspective

[KidnappedCthulhu]: but i doubt that i ever would have noticed if i had not come here

[KidnappedCthulhu]: that said your government is also shit

[EightFriendlyLegs]: That, we can agree on.

[KidnappedCthulhu]: mmm

[KidnappedCthulhu]: i really like that phrase

[KidnappedCthulhu]: fail gracefully

[KidnappedCthulhu]: perhaps that is what i am missing

[KidnappedCthulhu]: i will be back tonight

[KidnappedCthulhu]: i am going to keep reading

[EightFriendlyLegs]: Alright. Have a good time.

[KidnappedCthulhu]: i suspect i will not

[KidnappedCthulhu]: but that is not really my goal today

And with those ominous words, she had signed off. Still, I feel better having talked to her. I open a window, and sure enough she flies in, giving me a tiny squeeze on a finger larger than she is before settling on the ceiling. Adorable.

"Can you hear me? Hello? I said of course I'm worried about it. I'm your mother! Hello?"

Huh, what? Oh. Right. I'm still talking to my parents. I'd gotten a little distracted, remembering that conversation. What are we talking about again?

"Yeah," I manage to default to, earning a long-suffering sigh from the other end of the line.

"Just… stay safe, Evelyn," my mom pleads. "Please? You're not always the most… aware of what's around you."

"I know that, mom," I say. "I don't need a reminder."

"Yes you do! You can't afford to risk losing your apartment!"

Oh, right, that's what we're talking about. There's a lot I could respond to that with… but she wouldn't listen to any of it.

"Okay, mom."

"You can't risk a criminal record, either! That could hurt your chance at getting a job for your entire life!"

"Okay."

"Your focus needs to be on school."

"Alright, mom."

On and on and on. Ten minutes later, I manage to extract myself from the call. I sigh loudly, sitting on the floor with my back to my bedframe. So exhausting. So there I stay, doing nothing at all for another five minutes.

"Hey, Tara?" I eventually ask. "What are you doing with all those human bodies, anyway?"

The little bug on my ceiling doesn't respond, of course, but pretty soon my phone buzzes with a message.

[KidnappedCthulhu]: i was thinking of traveling to africa