{"sf1_id":1368132,"sf2_id":null,"title":"Degeneracy Pressure (Chapter 3)","author":"DecoFox","words":4258,"posted_at":"2018-09-14T21:27:00.000Z","tags":["90s","Abduction","Adolescent","Adventure","Alien","Anthro","Anthropomorphic","Arctic Fox","Bedroom","Canine","Fantasy","Fear","Fox","Ham radio","Ice","Interspecies","M/F","Male/Female","Mystery","Nasa","Night","Raccoon/Fox","Sci-Fi","Science","Science Fiction","Second Person","Series","Sky","Snow","Space","Story","Story Progression","Story Series","Straight","Supernatural","Suspense","UFO","White","Winter","Young Romance","geek","nerd","radio","rocket"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1368132-degeneracy-pressure-chapter-3","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/view/1368132","image_url":"https://www.sofurryfiles.com/std/thumb?page=1368132\u0026ext=.jpg","description":"#3 of Degeneracy Pressure\n\nA nervous human space geek makes an unlikely friend over HAM radio, and learns the Universe is just as wonderful and just as intimidating as it looks in the Hubble images.","content":"1. \n\\\u003eChapter 3, The Day Anon Stood Still\n2. \n\u0026nbsp;\n3. \n\\\u003eR U OK\n4. \n\\\u003e41°16'52.6\" N 81°33'21.6\" W. 12/15 @ 2400. C U.\n5. \n\\\u003eCareful. Not late. Quantum Favor. -KR G7X\n6. \n\u0026nbsp;\n7. \n\\\u003eThere were no two ways about this, were there?\n8. \n\\\u003eNo pretending that it hadn't happened, or had at least been a coincidence,\n9. \n\\\u003eEven if it was starting to feel like it had all been a dream.\n10. \n\\\u003eThe message was clear as day.\n11. \n\\\u003eYou just wish she would have answered your questions about whether that second line was an offer or an order.\n12. \n\u0026nbsp;\n13. \n\\\u003eIt's the 14th now. You haven't had any contact with G7X since the twelfth.\n14. \n\\\u003eKim has been fucking beside himself for the past few days, and you can tell it's everything he can do to keep quiet.\n15. \n\\\u003eYou've been pretty fucked up too, but telling people hasn't been at the top of your list.\n16. \n\\\u003eThere's only one question on your mind.\n17. \n\\\u003eShould you go?\n18. \n\\\u003eIt was almost like that time last year when a senior girl asked you to the prom.\n19. \n\\\u003eYou'd been pretty sure it was a trick, like what that one girl pulled on Kim.\n20. \n\\\u003eYou'd agonized over it for weeks.\n21. \n\\\u003eYour father had said to go.\n22. \n\\\u003eYour mother had said to go.\n23. \n\\\u003eThey'd both given very good, compelling reasons.\n24. \n\\\u003eBut you hadn't.\n25. \n\\\u003eAnd next week she'd come to school crying, wondering why the hell you'd stood her up like that.\n26. \n\\\u003eYou'd tried to explain, but that had been worth about as much as you would expect. In retrospect you should have lied and said you got really sick suddenly or something.\n27. \n\\\u003eBut you know how this story goes. You beat yourself up over it every couple of days.\n28. \n\\\u003eThis is kind of like that, you suppose. Only so, so, so much worse.\n29. \n\\\u003eDrive an hour through awful weather to make what might be humanity's first formal contact with alien life, or maybe you'll just be\n30. \n\\\u003eStood up\n31. \n\\\u003eAtomized\n32. \n\\\u003eViolated with an anal probe\n33. \n\\\u003ePressed into some kind of servitude\n34. \n\\\u003eHell, maybe it's like Alien, and she just wants to lay eggs in your chest.\n35. \n\\\u003eJust like the fucking prom, right?\n36. \n\\\u003eWhoever or whatever G7X is, she seems to have made it her mission to test your \"hesitation never got me anywhere\" resolve to its absolute outer limits.\n37. \n\u0026nbsp;\n38. \n\\\u003eEvery day you mull it over, and the night is even worse.\n39. \n\\\u003eYou've slept about half what you should in the last two days.\n40. \n\\\u003eYou'd even broken down and told your parents all about it.\n41. \n\\\u003eIf someone would just tell you not to go, you could put together how you were going to avoid it.\n42. \n\\\u003eThe trouble was your parents probably thought your story about \"going to meet some weird UFO chick\" was code for \"go smoke weed in the woods with friends, do teenager shit, and get into trouble.\n43. \n\\\u003eThey thought it would be good for you.\n44. \n\\\u003eGo fucking figure.\n45. \n\\\u003eIt doesn't help that Kim has been practically living at your place.\n46. \n\\\u003eHe's made his position pretty clear.\n47. \n\\\u003eHe needs to know if what he saw that night was real.\n48. \n\\\u003eIf so, he needs to face whatever creatures these are.\n49. \n\\\u003eAnd since he spent all his money on the Amiga,\n50. \n\\\u003eHe needs YOU to drive him.\n51. \n\u0026nbsp;\n52. \n\\\u003eSo all that had landed you here.\n53. \n\\\u003eBehind the wheel of your 1979 Saab 900 hatchback,\n54. \n\\\u003e10 miles out of Cuyahoga Valley National Park,\n55. \n\\\u003eLodged in the third snowdrift of the night.\n56. \n\\\u003eThe clock on the dash ticks over 11:15 P.M. as you throw it back into reverse, and try one last time to set yourself free without dragging your sorry ass back into the snow.\n57. \n\\\u003eBy sheer force of will you manage to snag a little traction and haul yourself back onto the road.\n58. \n\\\u003eIt's not snowing right now, but the sky is dark and brooding. The wind whisks thin ripples of blowing snow across the roadway, throttling the meager glow of your headlights until it seems they're shining through a few layers of wax paper.\n59. \n\\\u003e \"Man on the Moon\" is playing quietly on the radio, cutting in and out here and there.\n60. \n\\\u003eThat should probably strike you a little uncanny, but you barely notice it given they play it so damn often.\n61. \n\\\u003eThe heater is chugging, but it manages to keep up. About half the directional louvers are broken; fortunately they're broken in largely useful directions.\n62. \n\\\u003eThe drive has been quiet, and surprisingly pensive for how much of a hassle it's been.\n63. \n\\\u003eKim was excited as hell in the beginning and frankly you'd been thankful for that, but once the first few miles rolled by, he started getting quiet.\n64. \n\\\u003eReality setting in, you guessed. He'd never been very good at comprehending the weight of situations until he was in them.\n65. \n\\\u003eWhich was why he did stupid things like buy Amiga 3000s.\n66. \n\\\u003eBut you'd come this far, and the bravado from the roof antenna escapade is coming back to you little-by-little.\n67. \n\\\u003e...and MEET THE GIRL,\n68. \n\\\u003eand do the other things,\n69. \n\\\u003eNot because they are easy,\n70. \n\\\u003eBut because they are HARD. \u0026nbsp;\n71. \n\\\u003eHard probably isn't the right word for exactly what this is, but you'll take your inspiration where you can get it. There is no going back now, you've come much too far for that.\n72. \n\\\u003eIf you didn't get yourself killed just driving out here, what were the odds that she would do it?\n73. \n\\\u003eBesides, she'd asked if you were okay after the fall.\n74. \n\\\u003eThat was reassuring, wasn't it?\n75. \n\\\u003eNot as much as you'd have liked.\n76. \n\\\u003eBut there was the sign for the park, glowing spectrally in the light of your high-beams.\n77. \n\\\u003eYou take a deep breath and make a left.\n78. \n\\\u003eThe gates are shut of course, so you park your car in the most secluded spot you can find, zip up your windbreaker, and turn the key as if pulling a pin from a grenade.\n79. \n\\\u003eThe engine shudders to a stop. You pop the door open and peel yourself from the crappy, torn leather of the driver's seat.\n80. \n\\\u003eThe cold greets you like your Aunt Jenny on Christmas.\n81. \n\\\u003eFar more enthusiastically than you'd like.\n82. \n\u0026nbsp;\n83. \n\\\u003eYou've been to Cuyahoga Valley National Park before. It's been awhile, a few years maybe, but not all that long.\n84. \n\\\u003eYou used to go all the time as a kid, and while your interest had waned a little in high school, you still liked the place and had a lot of happy memories there.\n85. \n\\\u003eYou know it pretty well, you think, but it is something of a different place in the winter, especially at night.\n86. \n\\\u003eThe trees, full and green in the Summer and spectacularly colored in the Fall, tower over you stark, black, and leafless, gnarled roots digging into the snow like cats' claws.\n87. \n\\\u003eThe trails meander through hills and valleys painted ghostly white with snow, their views desolate and their borders blurred.\n88. \n\\\u003eAs you walk you half-expect to be accosted by the frozen zombies of French and German soldiers, rising from shallow graves in deep trenches to shuffle about, fending the cold away with scarves of razorwire.\n89. \n\\\u003eNever before have you wished so heavily that you were into guns at least 10% as much as you were into rockets.\n90. \n\\\u003eYour father owned a beautiful Smith and Wesson in .357. You'd only fired it a few times, but goddamn you'd have liked to have it now.\n91. \n\\\u003eBut all you have is a backpack full of floppy disks and CDs that Kim had suggested you bring. Encyclopedias and media and shit. A good idea, certainly, but they weren't going to do you any good if things went south.\n92. \n\\\u003eSo you trudge on, thumb hooked around your waist, pretending you've got a gun there.\n93. \n\\\u003eKim, who's walking beside you, is staying just as quiet as you are.\n94. \n\\\u003eHis hands are thrust in the pockets of his pale blue windbreaker, his head down against the wind, eyes staring at his black moon boots as he trudges.\n95. \n\\\u003eThe back of your mind toys with the idea of letting him get ahead awhile, then hurling a snowball at him.\n96. \n\\\u003eMight ease the tension a little.\n97. \n\\\u003eYou try to slow down stealthily, but he slows down with you.\n98. \n\\\u003eYou slide your jacket sleeve back a little and check the cheap digital watch on your wrist.\n99. \n\\\u003e11:45 P.M.\n100. \n\\\u003eShe'd said not to be late.\n101. \n\\\u003eNo time for that shit anyway.\n102. \n\\\u003eYou've got a quarter mile yet.\n103. \n\u0026nbsp;\n104. \n\\\u003eYou don't have a GPS.\n105. \n\\\u003eKim's family might be wealthy, but he was never outdoorsy enough to try to arrange that.\n106. \n\\\u003eClose as you can tell though, the coordinates lead you to a basin in the rock.\n107. \n\\\u003eYou've been here before.\n108. \n\\\u003eA rim of shale extends a foot or so from the wall of the depression, and in the Summer channels a narrow creek into a fine, misty waterfall.\n109. \n\\\u003eThat's all frozen now, the water locked halfway to the little pool below, as if time itself had stopped when the snow came.\n110. \n\\\u003eIt glows with the eerie still-life of a model train set, water cast in glue, glitter, and blue food coloring.\n111. \n\\\u003eIt's beautiful in the Summer. You used to spend long hours here reading and catching little frogs.\n112. \n\\\u003eYou didn't bring a book though, and there's no sound save the faint rush of wind in the trees.\n113. \n\\\u003eSkinwalkers are a Navajo thing. The Navajo didn't live here, right?\n114. \n\\\u003eYou try to think back to your U.S. history class last year.\n115. \n\\\u003eYou don't think so\n116. \n\\\u003eThis is Shawnee territory, if you remember correctly.\n117. \n\\\u003eYou're pretty sure they don't have Skinwalkers.\n118. \n\\\u003eThat doesn't make you feel as much better as you hoped it would.\n119. \n\u0026nbsp;\n120. \n\\\u003e11:52.\n121. \n\\\u003eThe waiting was already painful.\n122. \n\\\u003eKim is pacing. Before long so are you.\n123. \n\\\u003eYou pace to stop the shaking.\n124. \n\\\u003eIt's because of the cold, right?\n125. \n\\\u003eYeah, that's part of it, but you know that isn't the whole truth.\n126. \n\u0026nbsp;\n127. \n\\\u003e11:55.\n128. \n\\\u003eKim sat down under the overhang. He's got a faraway look in his eye, and is drumming his fingers on his knee to the Super Mario Brother's tune.\n129. \n\\\u003eYou join him reluctantly, and the two of you watch the fog of your breath crystalize on the ice of the frozen waterfall.\n130. \n\\\u003eThis could really be it, you remind him, as much for your own sake as for his.\n131. \n\u0026nbsp;\n132. \n\\\u003e11:58.\n133. \n\\\u003eYour teeth are chattering, which is good, because focusing on being cold is better than focusing on your watch.\n134. \n\\\u003eYou're still counting seconds with taps of your boot though.\n135. \n\\\u003e120 of those fuckers left. Probably less now.\n136. \n\\\u003eYou haven't heard a sonic boom, and that's making you nervous.\n137. \n\\\u003eAt first you'd thought the \"stood up\" option might be the best outcome here, but the more you thought about that the less you liked it.\n138. \n\\\u003eIf something went down, you knew what was happening.\n139. \n\\\u003eIf she was a no-show, then it was like that spider you see on the bathroom wall, and then look back and it's gone.\n140. \n\\\u003eThe last thing you wanted this situation to become was a Spider you Couldn't See.\n141. \n\u0026nbsp;\n142. \n\\\u003e12:02\n143. \n\\\u003eSheer anxiety had led you to forget your watch awhile. Still no sonic boom, still no pale blue light. Still no G7X. She'd said not to be late; did that mean you could go? Where would you meet again? When? Would you ever? Was it over?\n144. \n\u0026nbsp;\n145. \n\\\u003e12:06\n146. \n\\\u003eYou're actually a little disappointed. Maybe even hurt. You'd come all this way in good faith. You'd come for answers. And now what? What would happen next? Would anything come of it? You couldn't know!\n147. \n\\\u003eWas it all a trick? Had it been CIA shit after all?\n148. \n\\\u003eThey'd tricked you into coming out here, and now they were going to throw you into the back of a van! You'd never see your family again!\n149. \n\\\u003eShit, what if that was really it?\n150. \n\\\u003eYou can't wait there any longer. It doesn't feel right. You grab Kim by the sleeve and stand hurriedly, turning back the way you came.\n151. \n\\\u003eThe snow is unsteady beneath your feet, but the going is easier for some reason.\n152. \n\\\u003eIt's easier to see, you realize.\n153. \n\\\u003eEasier because of a pale blue light.\n154. \n\\\u003eYou stop in your tracks as if you'd never had any momentum to begin with. Or maybe that was It's doing.\n155. \n\\\u003eYou turn around very slowly, knowing all-too-well what's going to be there.\n156. \n\\\u003eYou don't want to see it nearly as much as it felt like you did a minute ago.\n157. \n\\\u003eKim wasn't ready for you to stop. You'd still had his sleeve. He'd tripped and fallen. He was facing the other way now, the blue lighting his face like one of those plasma bolt lamps from Spencer's.\n158. \n\\\u003eThe look on his face is shock, or maybe horror.\n159. \n\\\u003e \"Holy fuck, man.\"\n160. \n\\\u003eIt's a horse whisper. The sort of sound you make when you scream for help in a dream.\n161. \n\\\u003eTwo instincts compete in you, each pulling so hard they seem about to tear you in half.\n162. \n\\\u003eTurn around.\n163. \n\\\u003eRun.\n164. \n\\\u003eTurn around.\n165. \n\\\u003eRun.\n166. \n\\\u003eHesitation never got you anywhere.\n167. \n\\\u003eYou take a deep breath and shut your eyes.\n168. \n\\\u003eNot because they are easy,\n169. \n\\\u003eYou pivot on your heels and exhale slowly.\n170. \n\\\u003eBut because they are hard!\n171. \n\\\u003eYou wrench open your eyes.\n172. \n\u0026nbsp;\n173. \n\\\u003eIt's floating there listlessly like one of those heavy mylar balloons, its black hulk almost invisible save for the blue veins, and the gently wavering silhouette of its dark chrome feathers as they knead at the air like cookie dough. A fine powder of snow churns in the air beneath it, in just the spot you'd run through not ten seconds ago.\n174. \n\\\u003eIt's humming softly, as if for it's own amusement.\n175. \n\\\u003eYour breath stills, your heart in your throat.\n176. \n\\\u003eIf it was close before, it's really close now. On the roof it had felt as if you could almost touch it. Now, if you took a couple steps and jumped up to reach it, you could have.\n177. \n\\\u003eHell, you could have LICKED it. Could have become that dumbass who got his tongue stuck to the flag pole, only you'd be stuck to a goddamn UFO.\n178. \n\\\u003eIt seems even bigger here, tucked neatly between the trees.\n179. \n\\\u003eBut you feel something you do recognize from the roof.\n180. \n\\\u003eYou'd been right about what that Black Triangle should look like up close, but maybe sexy wasn't the right word.\n181. \n\\\u003eIt isn't just a flying dorito.\n182. \n\\\u003eIt's simple, elegant, powerful, and poised.\n183. \n\\\u003eIt's beautiful.\n184. \n\\\u003eAnd not like the ones on TV or in the movies.\n185. \n\\\u003eIt isn't just smooth and futuristic, it's sculpted.\n186. \n\\\u003eIt had a build not like a war machine, or even something beautiful the way the Space Shuttle was beautiful.\n187. \n\\\u003eIt's built like a Howard Hughes airplane.\n188. \n\\\u003eLike someone had poured their heart and soul into it.\n189. \n\\\u003eLike they'd thrown every ounce of their being into that strange, exotic metal, and spent every thought and emotion they had on creating the most beautiful, functional thing they possibly could.\n190. \n\\\u003eThe sort of energy people imagine God put into creating the world.\n191. \n\\\u003eSomehow, amid the surges of adrenaline-fueled panic, some part of your mind is in the eye of the hurricane. For that little part, everything is right with the Universe.\n192. \n\\\u003eYou take a step closer, and then another.\n193. \n\\\u003eIt's almost as intimidating as it is enthralling,\n194. \n\\\u003eBut not QUITE.\n195. \n\\\u003eSo you get closer, and closer still.\n196. \n\\\u003eCloser, until something changes.\n197. \n\\\u003eA bit of the metal recedes, and from beneath it shines a bright, white light.\n198. \n\\\u003eYou don't know why, but something clicks in your brain.\n199. \n\\\u003eAnd you run.\n200. \n\\\u003eYou run harder and faster than you ever have.\n201. \n\\\u003eHarder than you thought you ever could.\n202. \n\\\u003eHarder than you thought was possible for anyone.\n203. \n\\\u003eThe cold, dead branches of trees lash at you like chain whips as they snap over your head and shoulders.\n204. \n\\\u003eThe snow crumbles beneath your feet as if the world itself is falling apart behind you.\n205. \n\\\u003eYou run and climb and clamber, even as your lungs burn with ice and your heart and mind beg for oxygen.\n206. \n\\\u003eYou can't tell for how long, but it seems like an eternity.\n207. \n\\\u003eYou go faster and faster, but you never seem to get anywhere.\n208. \n\\\u003eJust trees and more trees.\n209. \n\\\u003eHills and more hills.\n210. \n\\\u003eIce and more ice.\n211. \n\\\u003eLike running on a treadmill.\n212. \n\\\u003eLike running in a dream.\n213. \n\\\u003eIs it chasing you?\n214. \n\\\u003eYou don't know.\n215. \n\\\u003eYou don't want to look back.\n216. \n\\\u003eBut you have to look back!\n217. \n\\\u003eYou repeat the mantra again, you chant it to yourself with the exhales of your breath.\n218. \n\\\u003ebecause they are hard.\n219. \n\\\u003eBecause They Are Hard.\n220. \n\\\u003eBECAUSE THEY ARE HARD.\n221. \n\\\u003eYou turn to look, and as you do you feel yourself falling.\n222. \n\u0026nbsp;\n223. \n\\\u003eIt's a long fall. Long enough to think about what's happening.\n224. \n\\\u003eWhich means it's long enough to know you're probably pretty fucked.\n225. \n\\\u003eYou don't feel anything when you hit the ground, save the thud of your breath leaving your lungs.\n226. \n\\\u003eYou gasp for air and try to sit up as best you can, your vision swimming and tying knots with the trees towering over you.\n227. \n\\\u003eA little comes back to you. Not much, but enough to haul yourself to sitting.\n228. \n\\\u003eYou're sitting in waist-deep water.\n229. \n\\\u003eYour left leg is bent the wrong way around.\n230. \n\\\u003eThe cold would probably be setting in if you could feel anything, but you're well past that.\n231. \n\\\u003eNot even your leg.\n232. \n\\\u003eYour heart is still beating, and that means it's time to go.\n233. \n\\\u003eSo you run.\n234. \n\\\u003eOnly you don't run.\n235. \n\\\u003eIt's only a few steps,\n236. \n\\\u003eThen you're face down in the water.\n237. \n\\\u003eThe world goes black before you can put another thought together.\n238. \n\u0026nbsp;\n239. \n\\\u003eIt's still black when you start thinking again.\n240. \n\\\u003eThen it's white. Brilliant white.\n241. \n\\\u003eWhite like staring at summer clouds.\n242. \n\\\u003eYou're dead, surely.\n243. \n\\\u003eYou would be sure if your leg hadn't set to hurting.\n244. \n\\\u003eHurting a lot.\n245. \n\\\u003eYou can't see much, but you try to get your bearings.\n246. \n\\\u003eYou're not in the water anymore, not as far as you can tell.\n247. \n\\\u003eYou're on your back, and on top of something.\n248. \n\\\u003eA table. You can find its edges with your hands and good leg.\n249. \n\\\u003eA little shifting tells you it's bent ergonomically, like a dentist's chair leaned most of the way back.\n250. \n\\\u003eCould Kim have found you?\n251. \n\\\u003eCould they have gotten you to a hospital?\n252. \n\\\u003eYou doubt it, but they must have, right?\"\n253. \n\\\u003e \"Mom?\"\n254. \n\\\u003e \"Dad?\"\n255. \n\\\u003e \"Kim?\"\n256. \n\\\u003e You try to come up with some other names, but decide against calling for your over-enthusiastic Auntie Jenny.\n257. \n\\\u003eThere's only one left.\n258. \n\\\u003eThe one you're pretty sure you don't want it to be.\n259. \n\\\u003eThe one you're terrifyingly certain it is.\n260. \n\\\u003e \"G7X?\"\n261. \n\\\u003e \"S - 5 - K.\"\n262. \n\\\u003eIt echoes around the room as if over an airport concourse intercom.\n263. \n\\\u003eSounding just like it did on the radio, though sharp and clear.\n264. \n\\\u003eYour breath is fast and random, your voice is too.\n265. \n\\\u003e \"G7X, S5K. Where am I?\"\n266. \n\\\u003eYou're not sure why you said it that way. That had been all you could think of. Maybe just because it was the only way you'd ever spoken with her.\n267. \n\\\u003e \"Earth.\"\n268. \n\\\u003eThe kid's voice again, just like on the radio.\n269. \n\\\u003eThen the audio scratches, and his father's voice comes in it's place.\n270. \n\\\u003e \"...pale, blue, dot.\"\n271. \n\\\u003e It scratches again.\n272. \n\\\u003e \"United States of America,\" in the voice of John F. Kennedy.\n273. \n\\\u003eOnce more.\n274. \n\\\u003e \"Sandusky,\" in your own.\n275. \n\\\u003e That last one sends chills reverberating up and down your spine.\n276. \n\u0026nbsp;\n277. \n\\\u003eYou can see a little better now, and that isn't doing your building panic any favors.\n278. \n\\\u003eThe room is circular, and plated in a similar reflective metal to the triangle's skin, though the finish is a little more muted.\n279. \n\\\u003emachines line the walls, chirping quietly to themselves.\n280. \n\\\u003eThat all confirms your fears of where you are, which would be bad enough in and of itself.\n281. \n\\\u003eBut the real problem is what you see when you lay back.\n282. \n\\\u003eOverhead, a series of mechanical arms hangs from the ceiling, some holding lights and other s needles and probes.\n283. \n\\\u003eLike H.R. Giger designed a chandelier.\n284. \n\\\u003eIt's difficult to see in the harsh light, but the arm with the biggest needle is coming closer.\n285. \n\\\u003eIt's big enough that you can see the steep, angular cut forming the tip of the pipette.\n286. \n\\\u003eIt's descending over your sternum.\n287. \n\\\u003eOver your lungs\n288. \n\\\u003eOver your heart.\n289. \n\\\u003eIt's getting awfully close, and doesn't look about to stop.\n290. \n\\\u003eYou fight to move, but your body ignores you.\n291. \n\\\u003eNot that you could have gotten very far anyway.\n292. \n\\\u003eBut maybe the thought had occurred to her too, because you hear a door shunt open. And then you hear footsteps. Soft, delicate footsteps.\n293. \n\\\u003eThey're slow and calculated at first, but they quicken.\n294. \n\\\u003eThey're getting closer.\n295. \n\\\u003eYou can almost see her.\n296. \n\\\u003eYou can almost see IT.\n297. \n\u0026nbsp;\\\u003eYou don't want to look, but it might be the last thing you ever see.\n298. \n\\\u003eYou're pretty sure you don't want the last thing to be the fuckhuge needle.\n299. \n\\\u003eYou don't want to look, but you know you have to.\n300. \n\\\u003eYou can still do it. It doesn't have to all be for nothing. Even if you die here, you can do what you set out to do.\n301. \n\\\u003eDe-ice the antenna, and\n302. \n\\\u003eMEET THE GIRL, and\n303. \n\\\u003eDo the other thing.\n304. \n\\\u003eNot because they are easy.\n305. \n\\\u003eBut because they are HARD.\n306. \n\\\u003eYou crane your neck to see.\n307. \n\u0026nbsp;\n308. \n\\\u003eThere's not much to see but a flat silhouette, black as night against the harsh backlight. It seems to tower over you as you lay on the chair. It's not quite scrawny, but perhaps wiry.\n309. \n\\\u003eAmorphous folds hang from it in strange places, some of the edges hard and some of them soft.\n310. \n\\\u003eShapes you'd never seen before,\n311. \n\\\u003eNot on any living creature.\n312. \n\\\u003eBut it's the head that really gets you.\n313. \n\\\u003eYou can't make out much in the flat bloom of the light, but it's big.\n314. \n\\\u003eAnd rises to peaks on either side with a distinct valley in between.\n315. \n\\\u003eYour imagination runs the gamut of forms that could possibly make that shape, and doesn't like a one of them.\n316. \n\\\u003eIt gets closer, and closer yet until it's beside you. You feel a pressure on your chest, and then a sting. Your jacket hides the needle as it tears into your flesh.\n317. \n\\\u003eAs you close your eyes and wait for the end, something takes your hand.\n318. \n\\\u003eSomething soft and warm.\n319. \n\\\u003eThe pain surges under the needle and you can't help a scream.\n320. \n\\\u003eThe grip gets a little tighter, and the speakers echo again.\n321. \n\\\u003e\"S - 5 - K.\"\n322. \n\\\u003e \"We have nothing to fear...\" in the voice of F.D.R.\n323. \n\\\u003eAnd then the Portuguese Greeting from the record.\n324. \n\\\u003eYou know that one pretty well; you used it as an example when you wrote a report on the thing.\n325. \n\\\u003eMaybe she knows that.\n326. \n\\\u003e \"Peace and Happiness to All.\"\n327. \n\\\u003eSuddenly you can't feel the needle anymore, and in its place spreads a feeling of warmth.\n328. \n\\\u003eIt surges through your blood in tsunami.\n329. \n\\\u003eIt's a strange feeling. An exotic feeling. You're not sure you like it. After a second you're really ready for it to stop.\n330. \n\\\u003eBut it IS fascinating.\n331. \n\\\u003eAnd then it's everywhere, and you can hardly feel it at all.\n332. \n\\\u003eThe pain in your leg fades, and a thousand other little scrapes and aches you didn't know you had.\n333. \n\\\u003eWith the strange, soft thing in your hand,\n334. \n\\\u003eEven the fear seems to fade.\n335. \n\\\u003eAnd a profound sense of peace washes over you.\n336. \n\\\u003eAnd then the world is black again,\n337. \n\\\u003eAnd then your thinking stops.\n  \n  \n\n","previous":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1367875-degeneracy-pressure-chapter-2.json"}