Dexter in the Dark | Page 2

didn’t need to eat or drink. But gradually IT became
aware that IT did need…something—but what ? IT could feel that somewhere there
was a need, and the need was growing, but IT could not tell what it was;\
there
was just the sense that something was missing.
No answers came as ages of scales and egg clutches paraded by. Kill and eat,
kill and eat. What is the point here? Why do I have to watch all this when I
can’t do anything about it? IT began to feel just a little bit sour about the
whole thing.
And then suddenly one day there was a bran d-new thought: Where did I come from?
IT had figured out long ago that the eggs the others hatched from came from
copulation. But IT had not come from an egg. Nothing at all had copulated to
bring IT into existence. There had been nothing there to copulate when IT first
became aware. IT had been there first and, seemingly, forever, except for the
vague and disturbing memory of falling. But everything else had been hatched or
born. IT had not. And with this thought the wall between IT and them seemed to
grow vastly higher, stretching up impossibly tall, separating IT from them
completely and eternally. IT was alone, co mpletely alone forever, and that hurt.

IT wanted to be a part of something. There was only one of IT—shouldn’t there be
a way for IT to copulate and make more, too?
And that began to seem infinitely more important, that thought: MORE of IT.
Everything else made more. IT wanted to make more, too.
It suffered, watching the mindless things in their roiling riotous living.
Resentment grew, turned into anger, and finally the anger turned into rage
toward the stupid, pointless things and their endless, inane, insulting
existence. And the rage grew and festered until one day IT couldn’t stand it any
longer. Without a pause to think what IT wa s doing, IT rose up and rushed at one
of the lizards, wanting somehow to crush it. And a wonderful thing happe\
ned.
IT was inside the lizard.
Seeing what the lizard saw, feeling what it felt.
For a long while IT forgot rage altogether.
The lizard did not appear to notice it had a passenger. It went about its
business of killing and copulating, and IT rode along. It was very interesting
to be on board when the lizard killed one of the littler ones. As an experiment,
IT moved into one of the little ones. Being in the one that killed was far more
fun, but not enough to lead to any real purposeful ideas. Being in the one that
died was very interesting and did lead to some ideas, but not very happy ones.
IT enjoyed these new experiences for a wh ile. But although IT could feel their
simple emotions, they never went beyond co nfusion. They still didn’t notice IT,
didn’t have any idea that—well, they simply didn’t have any idea. They didn’t
seem capable of having an idea. They were just so limited—and yet they were
alive. They had life and didn’t know it, di dn’t understand what to do with it.
It didn’t seem fair. And soon IT was bored once more, and growing angry all over
again.
And finally one day the monkey things started to show up. They didn’t seem like
much at first. They were small and cowardly and loud. But one tiny difference
finally caught IT’s attention: they had hands that let them do some amazing
things. IT watched as they became aware of their hands, too, and began to use
them. They used them for a great variety of brand-new things: masturbating,
maiming one another, and taking food from the smaller of their own kind.
IT was fascinated and watched more closel y. IT watched them hit each other and
then run away and hide. IT watched them st eal from one another, but only when no
one was looking. IT watched them do horrible things to each other and then
pretend that nothing had happened. And as IT watched, for the first time,
something wonderful happened: IT laughed.
And as IT laughed, a thought was born, and grew into clarity wrapped in glee.
IT thought: I can work with this.
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ONE

W HAT KIND OF MOON IS THIS? NOT