Day zero. Junior marketer Percy stood in the corner of the office, watching as a tall guy in a blue jumpsuit replaced a large plastic container on the water cooler. Office manager Claire called delivery service employees as needed—about once or twice a week. And roughly an hour after the call, either this burly fellow or his replacement would arrive, equally deftly handling the enormous bottles. Percy mentally referred to both of them as “Tommy,” without even bothering to read their real names on the nameplates attached to their jumpsuits. He definitely despised these red-faced workers, devoid of any ambition, perpetually smiling for no apparent reason. And at the same time, he envied them. What could possibly make them happy when they take off their sweaty t-shirts at the end of the day? Fast-food meals, beer with friends, and a sports match on TV. Going to the movies with his “baby” on the weekend. Or staying in the garage tinkering with his father’s old retro pickup truck. Not many options, really. Yet each of those choices seemed far more meaningful than Percy’s entire life.
He waited until the delivery man finished, approached the refilled cooler, grabbed a disposable cup from the stack, and held it under the cold stream. Then he glanced again at the departing “Tommy,” inwardly disgusted by how the burly man playfully winked at Claire, who smiled back. Throughout all his time working in the office, Percy himself had never dared to invite her for coffee, or even strike up casual conversation during a break. Angered at himself even more, Percy took a sip from the cup of fresh water. It was the last time he drank water from the office cooler.
Day One. It all started like a typical intestinal upset. Percy was inclined to blame the spicy taco he’d eaten at a nearby Mexican restaurant. After finishing it off, along with another season of a government conspiracy TV series, the junior marketer suddenly felt a sharp pain in his stomach. But this didn’t cause much concern. After all, the weekend had just begun; he could easily get himself back on track within the next day, meaning nothing threatened his successful career. Thinking this way, Percy confidently took a couple of pills from his home medicine cabinet and followed it up with a large amount of water, as one should in such cases. However, this did not affect the processes already underway in his body. Soon enough, Percy was able to confirm this.
The popular pills, which had previously helped the junior marketer several times before, completely stopped working. By evening, the relentless diarrhea was accompanied by severe nausea. Between constant trips to the bathroom, the pain did not subside. Exhausted and wracked with discomfort, Percy collapsed onto the couch, wiped sweat from his forehead, and began to think about what to do. He didn’t want to go to medical services. What could those quacks do? They’d take his temperature and send him to a municipal hospital, where he’d be more likely to catch something from a random homeless person than actually get cured. No way. Better not to risk it. Private clinics were unlikely to have anyone available at night—especially now. He’d have to go there himself, but not until Monday… And that meant losing a workday, tarnishing his impeccable reputation as a responsible employee, and probably delaying a long-awaited promotion. After thinking for a bit longer, Percy picked up his smartphone, scrolled through his contacts, and wrote to Maridge Flugstone. After all, she was a surgical assistant or something similar and should know what to do…
Despite the late hour, his former classmate replied fairly quickly. After listening to Percy’s complaints, she remotely diagnosed a “bacterial intestinal infection” and strongly recommended going to the pharmacy for broad-spectrum antibiotics. After all, “they never hurt anyone in such cases.” And “of course, plenty of fluids.”
Filled with her confidence, the junior marketer gathered all his strength and headed to the nearest pharmacy. Returning half an hour later, utterly exhausted but filled with hope, he took the first dose of a five-day course. A completely useless action, considering that by this point, there was no microflora left in Percy’s intestines. But it allowed him to calm down and fall asleep. In any case, this was the last time he went to the pharmacy.
Day Two. Percy’s immune system finally gave its predictable response. The junior marketer tossed and turned all night in a delirious semi-conscious state. Fever brought his consciousness various images. Sometimes it seemed as if the blanket, like scales, was covered with a layer of stones and pinned him to the bed. Other times, it appeared that the air in the room had thickened into a liquid state and was difficult to breathe, so much so that one could drown in it. Waking up once again in stuffy darkness, Percy got up and, staggering, walked to the kitchen. The painfully sharp light from the switched-on lamp returned him to familiar reality.
It seemed like he’d even dreamed something during this delirium… Transparent, thin, jelly-like tentacles swayed around him like seaweed. Percy shook his head, trying to shake off the unpleasant visions, poured water into a glass, and dropped a tablet of effervescent aspirin inside. The nighttime silence filled with the crackling of carbon dioxide bubbles, and the air everywhere smelled of orange. A timid attempt by a human being to control the hundred-trillion-cell colony he calls his body. What did he know about the processes taking place inside right at this moment? Nothing. But the pill lowered his temperature, glucose slightly improved his mood, and the sweet-and-sour taste in his mouth gave him confidence that with each sip, some “benefit” was entering his body. Having reduced the fever, Percy finally calmed down and, wrapped in a blanket, slept until morning.
He spent the rest of the day feeling as though he was recovering. He warmed up and ate some food he considered dietary. He continued watching the TV series, which he found interesting. According to the plot, generously filled with various urban legends, a pair of enthusiastic government agents accidentally uncover a government conspiracy involving experiments on their own population. Such plots are especially popular among people of average intellectual ability who are curious, fascinated, and overly suspicious. Percy was exactly such a person. The cinematic agents revealed the sinister plans of the government by discovering an anomalous mass death of freshwater hydras. Catching onto the name, the junior marketer reached for his smartphone and immediately Googled an article about these microscopic creatures. Their possession of a nervous system consisting of five thousand neurons, amazing regenerative abilities, and practical immortality amazed the imagination. However, the enthusiasm for scientific research faded as quickly as it had arisen. Percy felt a sting in his eyes and could no longer concentrate on the text. Measuring his temperature, he took another antipyretic and a second dose of antibiotics, then lay down again to watch TV, hoping that “tomorrow morning everything would definitely be over.” And so he fell asleep without waiting to see how the story ended. The mystery remained unsolved for him, as it was the last time he watched his TV series.
Day three. Percy woke up feeling very broken and weak. For some time, he struggled with the reluctance to get out of bed, but eventually checked his watch and realized he had overslept alarmingly long. Even if he left the house right now, there still wouldn’t be enough time to reach the office. The junior marketer sighed regretfully, mentally saying goodbye to a promotion, and called work. After cheerfully greeting Claire about his poor health, he received wishes for good health in return and felt slightly calmer.
In reality, the company was quite lenient about sick days, but Percy, being overly responsible, still felt some guilt. He measured his temperature several times, and the fact that it was close to normal only made him feel worse. In a way, the junior marketer began to feel like an offender who was abusing someone else’s kindness. Again and again, he returned to the thought that he should have taken some aspirin and gone to work instead of pretending to be dying. Although his condition couldn’t exactly be described as completely normal either. In the middle of the day, Percy felt that each breath was becoming increasingly difficult, as if something inside his chest was pressing outward, squeezing past his throat, constricting his trachea and hindering airflow. He had heard about terrible asthma attacks, but he had never experienced anything similar himself. The fear of suddenly suffocating turned into panic, making it even harder to breathe. Chest pain appeared. Percy collapsed back onto the bed again, spreading his arms and legs out like a starfish, and stared at the ceiling, trying to calm down.
It wasn’t working well. Although the choking sensation subsided, some completely crazy ideas started creeping into his mind. This strange illness, which kept presenting new symptoms… Percy had been sick many times before, but this didn’t seem like a natural disease. What if it wasn’t just a fictional invention? What if experiments were also being conducted on him? First, they mixed something into his food. It would be easy for special services to bribe or even replace the Mexican taco vendor. And what about pills? Do we often think about whether the medicine we’re taking is genuine? We simply take everything on faith. After all, medications can easily be counterfeit too. All those Indian generics packed in basements—supposedly analogues. At best, they might add useless chalk powder to them; at worst, something even worse. And what about the air? Why did breathing suddenly become so difficult? We’re told about exhaust fumes and increasing pulmonary diseases… But at the beginning of the century, there weren’t so many patients, yet there was even more harmful exhaust. It’s scary to think about—it was a time when steam locomotives ran and homes were heated by coal. Could we be deliberately poisoned? Spraying something from airplanes? Or releasing odorless gas through ventilation ducts to observe the body’s reaction later? Previously, they had Auschwitz for that purpose. Now they had to become smarter…
Percy was distracted from his frightening thoughts by a sudden knock at the door. He listened attentively, and the knocking repeated itself. Trying not to creak the mattress, the junior marketer got up, tiptoed toward the door, and pressed his ear against the peephole, holding his breath. To his surprise, he saw Maridj. “What is she doing here? I’m supposed to be at work at this hour… Could she also be involved in this? Of course! She’s a medic. And supposedly someone I can trust… You couldn’t find a better spy.” The girl glanced suspiciously around and knocked again. “Who’s there?” Percy asked quietly, pretending he hadn’t been looking through the peephole. “It’s me… Are you okay? You said I could come over if you stayed home.” “Yes?” Percy didn’t remember saying anything like that, but decided to play along. “Yes. Of course… Just… I’m actually heading to the office.” Maridj frowned suspiciously. “Alright… But are you really okay? Are you alright?” “Yes. Of course! Completely fine. Thanks.” The junior marketer stepped back slightly from the door and listened again. For another half-minute, the girl stood there waiting for something, but then her retreating footsteps finally became audible. Percy sighed with relief. Only now did he realize how wildly his heart was pounding. Then he slowly walked further into the apartment and drew the curtains more tightly. That was the last time he spoke to anyone.
Day four. In the morning, Percy noticed a strange rash on his abdomen. Immediately associating it with some kind of reaction to the “harmful” pills, he resolutely flushed all remaining antibiotics down the toilet. After thinking for a moment longer, he sent the effervescent aspirin down there as well. Although the junior marketer still felt body aches—a sure sign of fever—he was nevertheless convinced that he would now definitely feel better.
Today, neither missed work nor any government conspiracies worried him anymore. Only a phone call from an unknown number briefly brought back a sense of anxiety. While the smartphone blared with an intrusive melody, Percy sat in a daze, staring blankly at the flashing screen displaying unfamiliar numbers. But the decision came by itself: when the device fell silent, the junior marketer completely turned it off, finally cutting himself off from the outside world.
Now Percy was completely calm. The pain in his chest had subsided. And although the heaviness remained, it spread inside like a pleasant warm spot, pressing him into the chair, weighing down his head like lead, making him feel sleepy. The junior marketer decided not to resist and treat himself “the old-fashioned way.” So he made himself tea, prepared sandwiches with raspberry jam, settled down in front of the TV, and spent the whole day aimlessly flipping from one program to another.
Periodically, he fell into brief periods of unconsciousness, completely confusing day with night. In the dim light, he again saw semi-transparent tentacles. They streamed directly from the flickering screen, spreading across the floor like pools of sticky liquid, crawling up the chair, soaking through his clothes, rising up his neck, filling his ears, and penetrating his brain. Percy woke up from the nightmare drenched in sweat and pulled off his soaked T-shirt. The rash began to spread throughout his body and changed in places, turning into small swollen blisters filled with fluid. Fortunately, Percy didn’t feel any pain or itching, so he simply wrapped himself in a blanket and stared again at the TV show. A popular science program about the underwater world with swaying seaweed and a tedious voice-over lulled him and prevented him from concentrating. The junior marketer’s thoughts once again drifted away from reality. “After all, our ancestors were much wiser than we are,” he mused. “They lived in harmony with nature, without any chemicals that constantly cause allergies. They treated themselves with leeches… Probably they drained not only blood from the body but also various toxins. Like those… Filtering sea sponges. Or freshwater hydras.”
Percy thought he had fallen asleep again, but someone knocked. For some reason, this time he didn’t feel any apprehension and got up to open the door. Standing on the threshold was Claire. He never asked how or why she suddenly appeared here. These questions briefly arose in his mind but immediately vanished. Percy let the guest into the room and followed her in as if nothing had happened. The office manager also said nothing. She looked ordinary—wearing the same white blouse and blue pantsuit as usual. Even her name badge was pinned to her jacket, as if she had just arrived straight from the office. However, her face, usually glowing with a playful smile, now resembled a marble statue. Claire turned to Percy and, without changing her expression, began undressing. In this seemingly rather exciting and provocative situation, the junior marketer saw nothing attractive. Either because of the girl’s unnaturally cold and impassive gaze, or because all her actions seemed unnaturally mechanical. Percy noticed only that Claire had similar swollen blisters on her chest and stomach.
Suddenly, a stationery knife appeared in the girl’s hand. In the dim light, the blade gleamed as it clicked out. The junior marketer didn’t have time to be frightened or step back, because the guest calmly turned the knife toward herself, firmly grasped it with both hands, plunged the blade into her abdomen, and pulled upward with force. The flesh parted to the sides, pushed by some internal pressure. Percy was even surprised to see protruding bluish intestines, but the terrible wound practically did not bleed. At the same time, he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the horrifying sight. Claire’s insides continued to emerge outward in swollen loops, twitching and pulsating. Now they more closely resembled a tangle of writhing snakes. One of them, proving quicker than the others, shot out, silently opened its mouth surrounded by six repulsive tentacles, and swiftly lunged at the junior marketer. A strong burning sensation on his face and the feeling of a long slimy intestine forcing its way into his throat—this was the last thing Percy remembered before losing consciousness. And it was also the last time he went on a date with a girl.
Day five. Percy slept surprisingly peacefully. The nightmares from the past had receded and disappeared. Before him stretched a vast swamp covered with duckweed. The green surface gently swayed, parting in places to reveal flat pools of clear water reflecting clouds. Spreading his arms wide, the junior marketer slowly floated on the water, carried by the leisurely current, gazing up at the blue sky. From somewhere above came the monotonous voice of a science popularizer narrating about the phenomenon of swarm intelligence. “Mathematics and computer science, studying this topic, model the collective behavior of decentralized self-organizing systems. In other words, a large number of small and primitive parts, interacting, form a ‘swarm’—a whole capable of solving very complex tasks. Bee colonies, ant colonies, our immune system… operate according to these principles.” Percy again imagined microscopic hydra settling on the surface of an underwater snag. Their glassy bodies and tentacles, resembling plants more than animals, gently swayed, obeying slight movements of the water. But suddenly one of the hydra touched its neighbor with the tip of a tentacle containing irritating stinging cells. The latter instantly reacted, shooting out its poisonous appendages in all directions. The reaction spread like an avalanche across the entire surface of the snag. Several times waves passed back and forth, sometimes subsiding and then intensifying again. Amidst the general chaos of mutual bites, patterns began to emerge. Streams and routes formed from successive pushes and nudges. Individual hydra no longer tried to sting their neighbors and quickly withdraw their tentacles; instead, they kept them ready, anticipating the swift transmission of some strange relay. Now they resembled not swaying grass, but a complex nervous system transmitting information or even engaging in some internal dialogue. Percy reached out his hand and plunged into the depths of the swamp, trying to get closer to these amazing creatures and perhaps talk to them. But an unpleasant, rotten smell struck the junior marketer’s nose, waking him up…
Getting out of bed in complete darkness, he felt his way to the bathroom, turned on the light, and for the first time in several days looked at himself in the mirror. The rash had spread almost all over his body. Some blisters had partially burst and dried up, while others had grown larger, merging together to form huge watery bubbles beneath the skin. Fortunately, this ugliness hadn’t spread to Percy’s face. However, marks similar to hives were also appearing there. He decided to touch these pinkish streaks on his forehead and cheeks, but immediately pulled his fingers away. Both his palms were stained with blood. Hastily washing his hands, Percy returned to the room and got back into bed. These nightmares intruding into reality had tired the junior marketer considerably. Trying once again to wrap himself up and fall asleep, he suddenly felt something large and warm next to him. And also a putrid smell, as if seeping from the dream, was again disturbing him… Irritated by all these inconveniences, Percy turned on the nightlight and threw off the blanket. On the neighboring pillow lay half-naked Claire. The entire bed beneath her body was soaked with blood. And from a vertical incision running through her entire abdomen, her insides were visible, twisted outward. Nevertheless, the girl’s face looked calm and even serene, and her motionless eyes gazed with a kind of posthumous tenderness. Percy no longer felt either disgust or fear, so he simply embraced and held the dead Claire close. This would be the last time he slept in his own home.
Day six. Percy regained consciousness in a car. Judging by the distinctive sign with a moose, he was driving somewhere around the East Himmerland marshes. The junior marketer couldn’t remember how he ended up in the car or why he had come here, but he gripped the steering wheel tightly. A dense, swampy area stretched for dozens of miles in all directions. The fog-shrouded highway, flanked on both sides by drainage ditches, was reassuringly empty. After passing through a small grove of trees, he turned onto a side road with such confidence as if he were traveling down a well-known path—as if he were returning home…
A little further on, the blue Golf pulled up onto the bank. A dog toy dangling from the rearview mirror indicated that the car belonged to Claire. Percy got out and, opening the trunk, found the owner of the vehicle. Calmly, he removed the body wrapped in a blanket, carried it over to the passenger seat, and returned to the driver’s seat himself.
The cold wind carried the scent of rotting wood and wet grass. It was no surprise that peat here lies in layers up to fifteen meters deep and grows by four to five millimeters per year… Who knew what might be hidden in this bog? Percy didn’t dwell on it. What surprised him even more was that he somehow knew all this swampy statistics. For a few minutes, a gust of wind dispersed the fog, revealing the opposite edge of the plain, where the marshes were fed by a spreading river. In the distance, against the backdrop of wastewater treatment facilities, the junior marketer suddenly spotted a huge advertising billboard with a familiar logo. He had seen it many times… But where? Ah, yes. On the chest of Tommy, the giant who delivered healthy plastic jugs to the office.
Percy pondered. I wonder if some filth could have traveled upstream, bypassed the water purification systems, and ended up in drinking water reservoirs? He already knew the answer…
Percy remembered all those stories about caterpillars and ants infected by parasitic fungi spores, which, for their own purposes, alter the insect’s behavior and eventually lead to its death. A tragic fate. And it would be foolish to assume that over millions of years of evolution, no one would think to pull off the same trick with higher vertebrates. Unlike them, ants, unfortunately, are even unable to comprehend the scale of the process they’re involved in, the grand tasks they serve. The junior marketer could. For the first time in his life, he truly understood what he was doing, felt the meaning and importance of his existence.
Percy released the handbrake and floored the gas pedal. The Golf surged forward, gaining momentum, jumped off a small embankment, and landed flat into the bog. The junior marketer took a utility knife from the glove compartment, carefully unbuttoned his shirt, and slowly slashed open his abdomen. A thick yellowish fluid mixed with blood began to flow down his legs into the car’s interior, filling it with greenish swamp water. Millions of freshwater hydra, having detached from each other, finally gained freedom, completing an exotic reproductive cycle inside human bodies. And for another couple of months, these bodies would serve as food for offspring—several daughter colonies. As he sank into the water with the car and watched this scene, Percy felt an unusual tenderness toward these small but cunning creatures. The picture briefly revealed to him began to blur again along with his thoughts and gradually faded completely into darkness. It was the last time Percy was aware of himself.
It was a pity that during his short existence, he hadn’t even come close to understanding who he really was. Just a human being. Or perhaps even less than that. Could he have regenerated his body after it had been sifted through a sieve? Could he have painstakingly pieced himself back together from the smallest fragments, gradually regaining his memory? Could he have penetrated someone else’s body, reinnervating it and subduing it to his will? No. But like a cell in a body that doesn’t know why it lives or what purpose it serves, Percy also served something greater. He became someone greater. Me. And I preserved his story for you. And then I will preserve your stories—for someone else.
