“So just who in the cold hells are you?” said chief editor Morisel, stirring agitatedly in his warm office pool. All beaks and pseudopods, he settled back into a more meditative position.
“No one in the hells,” said his visitor, words grating across his serrated beak. “Have I got a story for you. Think of me as a messenger with a fairly disturbing message.”
“Right, right, a time traveler with a warning about a troubled future.”
“More than that,” said the visitor. “The future in question is a lot closer than you imagine. This is directly connected with the government projects your medium has been investigating.”
Morisel issued something close to a cynical laugh. “For all the good it’s done. The government has been far less than forthcoming.”
“And they will continue to be so.” The visitor squelched to the edge of Morisel’s pool. “I have to be candid with you. You’re on the right track, but you’re still a whole level of imagination removed from what they plan.”
“It’s a weapons system; we know that.”
“More,” said the visitor. “In a very real sense, they’re mucking around with the whole notion of evolution. The most conservative way to describe it is, they’re attempting to alter the very nature of reality for their own evil purposes.”
“Evil?” said Morisel skeptically.
“I don’t think that’s too strong a word in this case. In any event, I don’t think they have any true idea of the forces they’re unleashing.”
Morisel was silent for a time. Finally he said, “I’ll need proof.”
“I’m not naive. I’m getting to that. Editor Morisel, are you familiar with the notion of chaos?”
“Yes,” said Morisel. “My science reporters have pounded it into me. The whole nature of what we thought was chance and causality. That theory of super-ooze connectivity. Yes, indeed.”
“Those with whom I work have found the means by which we can predict and record images of what were once thought random effects of random causes. We have recorded the ultimate results of what the government is planning.”
“A deliberate outcome?” Morisel stirred uneasily.
The visitor nodded his carapace. “No, we don’t think so. These consequences are unintended. But it will mean the end of our world as we know it.”
Morisel bided time patiently. “As we know it?” he repeated.
“Yes,” said the visitor. “I have the images here.” He produced a gelatinous octahedron glowing a soft violet. “Will you watch this now?”
“Of course,” said the editor. “And of course with all eyes keen on images appropriate for inclusion in the Flash Communicator.”
“In the old times,” said the visitor, “you would hesitate from using these images because they are so disturbing, so absolutely horrifying.”
“If the issues are as dire as you say,” Morisal said, “then we have no choice.”
“They are that terrible.” The visitor manipulated the violet octahedron with one advancing pseudopod. A vibrating hum rose up the scale and images formed in the air above the octahedron.
After a while, Morisel broke the silence. “Gods! I have never seen anything more disgusting!”
“The erect bipeds?” said his visitor. “Yes. We believe they are warm-blooded and breathe a mixture of oxygen and nitrogen. They are bilaterally symmetrical with limbs frozen into permanent realities. And with only two eyes.”
“Horrifying,” said Morisel, “to think an accident of misguided scientific stupidity on the part of our leaders could usher in this hellish fate.”
“Then you’ll use these images and this story?”
“Absolutely,” the editor said. “As soon as possible.”
“It must be soon,” said the visitor. “Our intelligence sources say the government will be ramping up their experiments at any time.”
“How soon?”
The visitor indicated uncertainty with a sloshing sound. “We don’t know. But in the very near future.” He hesitated. “The real problem is, if this sort of chaotic result should come about from their misguided efforts, we will never know when --
The roofs and towers of the nation’s capitol gleamed beneath the stars. In the late night, less traffic than usual illuminated the streets. On the top level of the Post’s headquarters building, the only discernible light shone in the editorial offices. Soft white glow spilled out from the windows of a corner office.
“So just who the hell are you and how’d you get in here?” said chief editor Morisel, stirring agitatedly in his office chair. All beaked nose and shrewd eyes, he settled back into a more meditative position.
His visitor said, “Have I got a story for you.”
Edward Bryant is the American Mystery Award and Nebula Award-winning author of a dozen books and hundreds of short stories and articles. He has adapted his own fiction for the Disney Channel and for CBS's revival of The Twilight Zone. As one of the Internet's pioneering web-interviewers, he hosted Omni Online and Event Horizon for years. His new book is the story collection Flirting With Death (CD Publications).