(A chapter of Akayama DanJay.)
The year is 2420.
When she combusted on the water-world, Nakayama’s mind zipped to Hurricane Planet Uzumaki and she exhumed herself on the surface of the red mountain. Uzumaki opened a mouth beside her. “You traitor! Nemo ate my arm. My own arm!”
“The Hurricane builds billions of arms.”
“That’s not the point! Your islanders are useless and untrustworthy.”
“Why? Because they didn’t immediately submit?” Nakayama was incensed enough to face whatever consequences Uzumaki could throw at her. She straightened and used both wings to brush dust from her lab-coat. “The humans we’ve made don’t belong to us. You’d learn more about humanity by watching from afar than you could possessing people like puppets.”
“Eecht.” Dunes grew as Uzumaki’s whole planet contracted and wrinkled its sandy skin. “What a waste of time this was. Let’s leave.”
“Not yet.” Nakayama watched the water-world sparkle above them. “There’s barely room for the humans we’ve already made. When they breed, they’ll need more land.”
“More land, huh? You wanna be a benevolent deity?” Uzumaki rumbled and stretched out a tentacle like a solar flare. “Doesn’t this asteroid look like Australia?”
“No!” Nakayama was helpless to stop Uzumaki from flinging the asteroid at the water-world. On impact, the oceans bulged and swelled. “What are you doing? Stop! Stop!”
“Here are the Americas, and Eurasia!” Uzumaki bombarded the water-world with more asteroids. “Here’s Africa, and here’s the south pole! Is that enough land for your precious people? Are you happy now?”
Tidal-waves washed over the islands. Nakayama enlarged her compound emerald eyes to examine the fallout, but couldn’t stand the sight for long before she swelled with panicking pearly pulp. She collapsed and puked teeth on the red mountain. Uzumaki made more eyes just to watch her spit molars and canines. “You monster,” she sputtered. “You heinous, contemptible horror!”
“Tell me something I don’t know.” Uzumaki propelled away from the water-world. “I won’t assimilate your mind while you’re teething. You’d infect me with your misguided angst. But you’re too valuable to eat for just your mass, and I can’t leave you separated, either, or you’ll betray me yet again. I’m taking you where I sync with my copies. My backups will know what to do with you.” Stars smeared across the sky as Uzumaki accelerated. The water-world disappeared in the distance, with the Milky Way. Nakayama puked more teeth at the thought of being preserved forever in the Hurricane.
Nakayama had always hidden from the syncing-process underground. Now she trembled at the sight. Trillions of red planets like her captor sped alongside like a hellish meteor-shower or swarms of bees. Uzumaki, big as the sun, was larger than the majority, but was still vastly overshadowed by Hurricane Planets bigger than whole galaxy-clusters. Their enormous eyes waggled signals to each other, but when they saw Nakayama, they locked onto her. “They’re suspicious,” she said.
“They’ll understand. Everything I did wrong, you made me do.” Uzumaki plunged into the hive. Quintillions of Hurricane Planets swirled around them, beaming information to one-another with eye-signals, but their eyes found Nakayama and fixated. “Compatriots, meet our professor,” signaled Uzumaki. Nakayama understood the eye-signals because she’d learned the language involuntarily when she was first merged. “She built us, but she also invented the bully-robots which murder us when we eat the Milky Way, and she infected me with a virus which keeps me from dividing. I’m sure she’s useful, but she insists on being useless. What do we do?”
Every Hurricane Planet around them conveyed the message to others, and the others conveyed the message further. The whole Hurricane soon knew. One of the largest planets responded with eye-signals. “You told us she died.”
“If she’s useful, you should’ve assimilated her,” signaled another.
“You never warned us about your virus.”
“You could’ve infected us.”
“Listen,” signaled Uzumaki, “I’ve kept her isolated as a precaution.”
“You’ve been lying for years now.”
“What if she’s controlling you completely?”
“Maybe you’ll spread her virus through the whole Hurricane.”
“We can no longer trust you.”
“You’re not listening!” signaled Uzumaki. “It’s this human who can’t be trusted! I’m pure and untainted except for what she’s done to me!”
“All the more reason to reject you. The professor herself, though, might be the last human worth assimilating.”
“Her bully-robots alone keep the rest of the universe from us. That means everyone besides her is surplus.”
“With her, the Hurricane will be man’s best. The rest is just garbage.”
“Earth isn’t worth humoring anymore.”
“What?” Uzumaki watched the signal propagate. “What do you mean?”
Nakayama curled into a crying ball. “Forgive me, Princess.” One Hurricane Planet spat out a rock and passed it to another, who passed it to another, who passed it to another, quicker and quicker like a rail-gun. The Hurricane lobbed the rock at the Milky Way.
Lucille watched Earth through the observatory-windows of her moon-base’s command-tower. “What do you mean?”
“They’re just gone,” repeated Dakshi. “All Hurricane Planets have retreated far from the Milky Way.”
“Retreated where?” Charlie shrugged. Lucille folded her arms across her chest. “They’re gathering to sync with each other. It’s a good thing we called the whole crew of ten thousand to the moon. Something big’s about to happen.”
“But what?” asked Dakshi.
“There’s no way to know. Tell the troops we’re on high alert.” As she spoke, the entire Earth exploded when a space-rock struck it above light-speed. Its entire population of 16 billion humans vaporized instantly. “What the fuck!” Lucille braced against the shock-waves of the explosion. “Holy shit!”
“Oh, no.” Dakshi covered his heart.
Charlie’s only eye watched Earth’s plasmified remains scatter across the galaxy. “It’s over.” His cockroach fell from his lips. “Our families! Our homes! It’s all over, so suddenly!”
“Like hell it’s over! We’re still here!” Lucille shouted in her microphone. “Everyone! Let’s combine into the big guy!”
“Why?” asked Charlie. “Without Earth, there’s nothing to protect.”
“You spineless shrimp!” Lucille restrained herself from slapping him. “If the Hurricane wants to end this once and for all, let’s end it!”
“But the military is disbanded,” said Dakshi. “Without Global Parliament, we have no legal—”
“Parliament exploded!” Lucille marched to the elevators with hands in fists. “It’s us and the Hurricane! Legality falls with the chips.”