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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/873128-The-Thing-in-My-Backseat
Rated: ASR · Short Story · Philosophy · #873128
Despite their differences, they both understand lonliness.
As I attempted to squeeze into the car, I thought about how poorly suited the old world’s machines were when it came to interacting with our forms. My wide, round abdomen and each one of my eight legs was having a difficult time maneuvering in the narrow space between the upholstered seat and the vinyl padded steering wheel. I never liked driving anyway, but it was the way of things now. Who was I to argue with the guiding forces in our new society?

I was thinking these things, as well as what I was going to have for lunch, when I heard something shift around in the backseat. I would have turned around, but it was more complicated to do so than it sounds. That, and I did have eyes that wrapped around my head. I looked behind me, and what I saw there made me scream out in horror. It was this creature of some sort that had only four limbs, and a narrow thorax that led to an even narrower abdomen. There was a buildup of hairs on the top of it, and not many other hairs that I could see anywhere else. Its body was pink in color, and gave no indication of possessing any sort of an exoskeleton. It even had only two visible eyes. In short, it was the exact opposite of what I was.

It seemed to be dazed, as its head lolled forward and back. My startled exclamation must have broken whatever spell it was under, as its eyes snapped completely open and it looked right at me. It returned my scream, but the tone was a higher pitch.

“Holy god! What the hell is that?! What’s happening? Where am- what’s this…oh god.” I raised one of my arms and said,

“Wait. Wait! You can speak our language?” I realize I should have been more frightened by this thing, as it dawned on me what it was, but I was taken aback by the simple fact that I could understand it. More so when it responded, proving that it understood me.

“Your language? What’s going on here?”

“You’re in my car.” Its lower mandible dropped open wider.

Your car?” It looked around the backseat, and then looked down at its own body. “Why am I naked? Is this some kind of dream?” I hadn’t noticed, until it was pointed out to me, that it was indeed unclothed. I thought for a moment about its question, and then answered,

“I don’t think I’m dreaming. But I have no idea how you got ended up in my car.” The thing looked down at its upper limbs, which ended in slightly larger pads topped with five digits each. It stared at the pads as though reading the small pink lines there, and said nothing. After another minute of silence, I spoke again, “Is there something you want?”

It looked up at me, and I could see that its face had shifted around some. There were additional lines on its head below the hair pile, and the opening at its mouth had shrunk in size.

“I want to know where I am.” I hesitated and then told it,

“Cleveland, Ohio. About ten blocks from the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.” At that, its expression shifted and its face seemed to expand with its eyes.

“What? You mean like on Earth?” If I could have “rolled my eyes” (as the old world expression goes) I would have.

“Of course. Where else would you be?”

“But you’re…I…what are you?” This time I looked down at my own limbs, checking to ascertain that they were unchanged. When I saw that they were, I felt slightly offended by its remark.

“What kind of a question is that?” I think I might have raised my voice some, as I saw its eyes grow even larger, and what I could only assume was apprehension clouded its face.

“I didn’t mean to upset you. I just don’t understand what’s going on.”

“You mean, why I am driving a car? That’s what you want to know?”

“Among other things. Like how do you speak and understand me, or how did you get to be so big?” I’m not sure why, but I hadn’t noticed how much smaller than I the thing was. It went against what I was taught to believe, and questions that I was in no mood to explore came up again. Pushing them away, I explained all that I had learned growing up about the old world, and then about the new world.

I told it how my kind had lived for an endless time in the old world and about how we had been around as long as its kind had. It knew this already, of course. This was all before the Great Light that sent its kind away. It asked me many questions about the Great Light, most of which I could not answer.

“We never really understood what it was. It just happened one day, and everything changed. You and yours disappeared, and me and mine claimed what was left.”

“Maybe it was a nuclear war. That would explain the ‘great light’ and the fact that you mutated.” Again, I found myself displeased with its particular choice of words.

“Why do you say that? Because I’m different from you, I must be a mutant? Did you ever think that maybe I was born this way? That I’ve always been this way. I can’t change, and I don’t think I would even if I had the choice.” And again, it cowered somewhat in front of me. I was having difficulty seeing any great oppressor in this creature, even though I’d forever been told that was what they were.

“Okay, okay. I just meant…I’ve never seen anything like you before. Much less talked to one.”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

“This is all so strange. I can’t remember how I got here. The last thing I recall, I was going to sleep. But I was in my bed, at home. And the world was normal then.” I realized, with chagrin that it was staring at me, studying me and my form.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” It continued to stare even as it spoke,

“I’m still having some difficulty believing any of this. Even seeing you sitting there, talking to me…I think my mind is some sort of shock.”

“I just wish you wouldn’t stare at me like that.” Its head moved back on its thorax, and its expression changed again. I believe it was a look of disconcertion again. I was becoming quite adept at reading its face the longer I spent with it.

“Does it bother you?”

“Wouldn’t it bother you? I have feelings, you know. Despite what society may say, not everyone likes to be gawked at.”

“You have a society?” I myself was returning to an irritated state by this line of questioning.

“Of course. We always have. Even in the old days, when your kind would walk all over us. You never cared or understood that about us. There were some of you that looked at us differently, I’ve heard. Some that actually treated us with respect, and even affection. It was often out of a sense of culpability or even the novelty value that we held that garnered you attentions.

“Did you know that there were old world societies that practically revered us? I first heard about those when I was still young. They seemed like some kind of mythical world to me, a place where everyone was happy and there was no pain.”

“Like Heaven.” Although it could not see my own face, I felt my expression change to one of confusion. I think my silence filled it in on my lack of understanding, so it answered my unspoken question. “Heaven is a place in many of our religions. It’s where we go when we die. Like you said, a place where everyone is happy, and they feel no pain. I never believed in it myself though.”

“Why not? Such a place must exist somewhere.” The sides of its face lifted, and it bared some of its teeth. I understood that to be a smile, and took no threat by it.

“I think every society has dreams about a place where everyone can be equal. But the dark secret about that is, even in Heaven, all are judged.”

“That’s how it is with us. We’re driven by appearances. Size is very important. Take me for instance. What do you think of me?” Its head tilted to one side.

“What do you mean?”

“Do you find me attractive? Would you mate with me?” There was heavy silence that fell at that. I hadn’t meant for the question to come out as an invitation, but that was apparently how it had been perceived. “Hypothetically speaking.”

“Um…well, I…are you a…guy or a girl, would be my first
question.”

“You mean my gender? Would that make a difference in your answer?”

“Yes. No. I don’t think I’m qualified to answer this question. Even hypothetically.” I sighed, and continued with my
point,

“In this world, I’m considered small. That makes me unattractive in the eyes of most. Therefore, I may never find a mate.”

“I’m sorry. I understand what you’re saying though. Women hardly ever looked at me when I was a growing up.” The pad at the end of its limb moved to its face. It held it there, over its mouth and said in a muffled voice, “I’m the last one, aren’t I?” I nodded,

“As far as I know. We haven’t seen any of your kind for a long while. Since we took over, basically.” Its body began to shake, and its eyes closed. From beneath the coverings there, I could see a liquid leaking out. I believe the term was crying, which was something they did when they were sorrowful or upset. I felt a sense of concern for this thing, and I don’t know where that feeling came from. I had no love for this creature, and no desire for it to remain in my backseat. At the same time, it was in some manner of emotional distress, and I tried to think of a way I might be able to assist it in reconciling this thing’s suffering. “Is there something I can do? Somewhere you’d like to go?”

It made these terrible sounds in its nasal orifice, and the tremors in its body intensified. When it opened its eyes again, they were red and swollen with water. It looked at me for a long time then. Neither of us spoke, but it nodded slowly. I started the car’s engine and put it in gear.

I had no idea where I was going. All I could think about was the way the thing in my backseat was looking at me, and what it could possibly want. I just wanted to forget that they ever existed at all. I wanted to pretend like it wasn’t there, that it wasn’t one of the creatures that had oppressed my kind for so long. This thing wasn’t the monster I was told it was. It was just a lonely man who never believed in Heaven. In some ways I envied him. At least without Heaven, there's no hope. Hope can be the most painful thing of all sometimes.
© Copyright 2004 Sean Bishop (failedpoet at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/873128-The-Thing-in-My-Backseat