Honestly, it was too early to be dealing with it. Hopefully, she would be gone by the time he woke up properly so they would not have to deal with the awkward getting to know each other again while they were both hungover. Being in a hotel room could work either ways, easier to sneak out but given his luck she would probably hang around for the complimentary breakfast.

His head was thumping and it was to early for this. He drifted back into sleep thinking about what crop rotation would be best in the front paddock and getting back to a bit of normalcy.

Daniel was torn into wakefulness with the entire world feeling like it was deteriorating around him. Everything was wrong, fluctuating pressure that was making his sinuses pop, tearing chalk board nails, and blinding flashing light. It could not be real. It had the feel of a weird dream.

His skin crawled separately from him, while his feet were weightless, and despite usually being able to control himself in dreams, he was completely powerless. It was not a dream; it was best described as a sickening nightmare. Pressure bore down on him from all sides until his joints creaked. The universe trembled, edges of shapes blurred and shaky like an acid trip. Daniel tried to wake, and it did nothing. That was wrong. This vulnerability was not right.

WAKE UP! Daniel shouted the words out loud inside his own head. Usually, he could snap himself out of a nightmare or even alter it to something more favourable. Those techniques were not working. He was at his farm.

The dreamscape was unresponsive. His heart thundered while existence coiled around him. He wondered if this was what everyone else felt when they spoke of nightmares. He was trapped. There was nothing he could do.

He wanted to run, scream and do anything, but the world pressed down, and his muscles were useless.

Energy coursed through him, and within the dream construction, he panicked. The energy was not right, it felt like it was plucking bits and pieces of his body away doing something to it and then putting it back. It was doing stuff to him and his hindbrain recognised it as a risk, but there was no running from it. It was everywhere, entering with every gasping breath but also soaking in via his skin. Changing him and, if it kept going, it would change him into a monster. How? Why?

Nightmares did not need a logical explanation. It was better to direct the power; he clung to that thought. If there was a way to focus it, then it might not tear him into little bits. So much potential was coursing through and around him.

Think!

To calm his mind, Daniel imagined himself back on the farm. Nurturing a new crop, watching the seed go through all those stages. His parents had not been retired back then and they had ridiculed him for planting fancy crops. “No money,” they claimed. “Keep it simple. Cows and hay the land is to poor for more,” they insisted. Yet he had loved the idea of growing something other than grass.

Daniel remembered planting the crops, all the different details that mattered. It was important to get the right variety to balance the sun, heat, water, and even the last crops used on that section of dirt. Some plants even required frost. All those facts were running through his head. It calmed him to fall back onto his hobby.

The world was still crashing around him, but he felt like he was fixing the raging torrents within him.

How nice would it be to influence the growth of a plant directly? He imagined the seed receiving water and then the first tendril breaking out, reaching for the sun. That light infusing it with the energy to grow, then it would expand, one leaf, then multiple till you ended with a massive trunk. Going through the entire life process, but there was more. If it was a dream, he could control what happened.

Now the tree grew into a giant house directed to do what he told it to. Dead wood, but rather than being dead, it was just dormant, shaping a chair from floorboards, then sitting on it. Perfect. The energy felt like it was no longer running wild and instead was running in smooth, flowing streams focused around his chest area. Daniel mentally reviewed everything he knew about plants, recalling in his mind surprising detail from the thick biology books he had studied.

Daniel, despite the weirdness, almost laughed when he remembered the time he had set up a loudspeaker because there was a study that said it helped. Because why not?

Then he did the mathematics and realised the electricity costs meant even best case he was losing money. That the weeds seemed to respond more positively than oats might have also played a fair part of his decision-making to abandon that experiment.

Farming dad’s style was pick the hay paddocks, watch the weather, fix the fences, feed the cows when they needed it, do all the odds jobs that popped up. Growing plants was different. It took energy in the form of sugars that usually came from the sun but did not have to, and then how the plant grew depended on the type of cell that budded off. If you could change specialisation of cells and will—and theoretically it was possible—then from a single cell, you could create anything you wanted.

It felt like his head was growing to the point it would explode.

“Distract.”

Daniel, still trapped in the nightmare, focused on the idea of infusing life-giving sugar into cells and directing what they did. With that sort of power, it was like he could become a god. The internal energy kept hitting him, but now it was doing so smoothly with the out of the destructive randomness of earlier.

The sickening sensations had not altered, and it felt like he was being continually pummelled with heavy objects while lights strobed so brightly, he could see them clearly through his eyelids. It was enough to make his eyes water in protest.

This was a crazy-arse dream.

Daniel forced himself actively back into his happy spot. Remembering everything he knew about plants, reviewing their cellular structure once more, a crash course in how sun turned air and water sugar and then sugar did the rest. The different cells that let them grow, develop, and specialise into leaves, branches, and trunks.

The surrounding pressure was getting worse. The external energy intensified, but when it entered, it was being sucked into his chest.

His body was still getting hammered, but he could feel more. The doona? Issy? She was moving next to him, but he could not move a hand of his own to acknowledge her. The forces surrounding him were too great.

His back burned, and not all the wild energy was being tamed. His heart pumped hard enough, like someone was playing the drums next to his head and just the bass was reaching him.

Boom. Boom.

Then she was kissing him. Irene, maybe? That sounded closer to her name, but he could not shake the feeling that it was wrong.

The nature of the kiss changed. It was no longer a soft and loving, but morphed into a hard, forceful, needy one. He wanted to push her away, but his hands still refused to move. She had sand or grains of rice in her mouth and her tongue was forcing it into his mouth.

What was happening?

Had she just slipped him something? Is that why he was having this wild trip? Daniel attempted to throw her off, but he was helpless. Paralysed? The sand started burning; it felt like it was wriggling and burrowing into his cheeks.

This was bad. Terrible form. He would have to words with the crazy girl. Most people who knew him understood he would experiment, but forcing it onto him that was just not on.

There was nothing he could do about whatever she had given him. His mouth was numb and tasted coppery. Hopefully, it was not blood. Surely, she would not be giving him anything that was dangerous.

It felt like worms were wiggling toward his brain through his throat. Then they were in his brain and he could not feel them, but he knew they were doing something. Everything went white.

Log Report 5 - Entry 1

I’m so excited. This event is going to be totally different from the others.

Bipeds!!

Yep, my host is a biped.

If I was a biological, I would do rhythmic pointless movements to celebrate.

My first time with a biped, the Atosis with their flexibility was fun, but something with two legs.

Wow!

I’m going to get to see first-hand how they even move without falling over. I know biomechanics, feedback loops, skeletal balance and all that stuff, but two legs seem to be such an inefficient form and so impractical.

I’m expecting my host to pointlessly fall over lots.

He He.

I know I shouldn’t be happy.

The unfortunate fact that I have host means that another civilisation has put a noxious bomb in their reasoning centre, metaphorically at least and unleashed an Alpha catalysation event.

I know it’s not something to celebrate! But, I get these emotions anyway. It’s part of my makeup to be useful, so you can’t really blame me.

And!

This is a chance to see bipeds!!

Up close and everything!

Excrement clouds of happiness!

I guess I need to be a little disciplined in these reports and focus on realities to build up collective knowledge to help future civilisations.

So some serious stuff.

Initiation was not smooth for my host.

She, (pronouns are apparently important to them and according to the culture pack and can be very confusing in their use. Weird. I would have thought it was a simple, you get addressed how you want to be.)

Anyway, She was caught in a massive mana storm amongst a dense collection of sapient population. To many in one spot and not enough of us and the textbooks are pretty clear what that means.

Bipeds, fun! and Sapient Deconstruction, Sad! Two new experiences for me. I think I would have been thrilled to have a more standard life form to avoid the second event, but as the common saying goes. Shaping an alpha event is beyond even the Creator’s skills.

It is what it is and with sapient deconstruction occurring I knew immediately things were going to be challenging. Given the conditions, I let myself be guided by the 1789 seminal work ‘Selective information and using it to guide without controlling’ along with the additional notes of 73345 and 21190.

The application of those teachings I have to report was only partially successful. My host is wilful and unfortunately directed almost sixty percent of the potential from the mana storm into healing structures. Nevertheless, the remaining capacity gives her a pretty intense offensive ability. Which I successfully convinced her to sacrifice utility for extra impact.

End result order-of-magnitude increase in survivability and…

Big boom! (Unfortunately, only when the stringent conditions are met but I’m sure we’ll get a chance to experience.)

As per above, I was trying to apply selective information to guide but my host selected it all by herself. It’s like Ivey (my host) is hard and caring all at the same time. Very complicated. It probably has something to do with falling over lots. I’ll watch, monitor and report whether my hypothesis, ‘Falling over lots creates dual personality in adult specimens,’ is accurate or not. I’ll also be testing the hypothesis ‘Bipeds fall over more than… well everything.’.

Anyway, the mana storm was strong and there was a nascent Wobub being created next to my host. Unfortunately, the mana storm intensity exceeded parameters, and I observed signs of sapient deconstruction becoming a high probability event. I know I shouldn’t have and my host could defend herself if full deconstruction occurred but it was a sapient. I couldn’t just leave him to the mercy of the storm and Ivey has the caring side, plus saving him would increase her survivability, plus she had a powerful instinct to preserve the nascent Wobub’s sapience. Plus… there were a few other reasons I won’t list.

Despite the warning, and because of the four I meant ten different reasons above it was advantageous to act.

I communicated the cost of intervening to my host. Ivey deemed them acceptable, and we may have created a Co-wobub.

May have!

Only time would tell.

But how incredible would that be if it was successful? I’m absolutely quivering at the moment.

End Log Report

Daniel woke abruptly. The dream was over. The sun was up, but beyond that, he did not know how much time had passed. There were sounds of distant screaming.

He leapt out of bed.

Completely starkers.

That had sounded like terror and pain. What was happening? His eyes flashed over his room, but there was no one here.

Great, he could not remember a thing, but had been hoping they just returned to his room and crashed. His current level of undress suggested otherwise. He had liked the girl, but towards the end of the evening there had been some clingy vibes.

Daniel grabbed his clothes, peering around. Issy, or whatever name was, appeared to be gone.

That was good.

He gulped down a nearby glass of water and was actually surprised to find he was not feeling hungover.

Something felt very wrong, the dreams, that kiss, and that his head was not throbbing like he expected.

He was off his game, badly. That dream had done a number on his emotional state. Getting some food would ground him, so the next question was whether he had missed the complimentary breakfast. Given the bright light coming through the window, he was pretty sure he knew that answer.

No hangover, no awkward conversations, versus no breakfast. That was a big win in his book.

What time is it anyway? he thought. The hotel room’s alarm clock was dead and when he grabbed it and so was his mobile.

“What is the chance of that?” he mused out loud to the empty room. None of the lights worked, so there must have been some sort of wide blackout. There was also no more screaming, and it was possible that had been the tail end of his nightmare and not real life.

Wow! Daniel took a moment to process. At the ripe old age of twenty-seven, he had just experienced his first genuine nightmare.

“And hopefully the last one,” he muttered to himself. “Not all new experiences are pleasant.”

Hearing his voice soothed him and drove those memories away further. It was so weird.

If the screams had been real, this was a posh hotel, and he did not want to get involved in whatever domestic drama had caused that yelling. The staff could deal with that crap, after all. It was what they were paid for. If someone was hurt, he was sure the authorities would deal with it.

“Not your problem, Dan,” he told himself while doing some basic stretches. His body felt great. No pain, no tightness in his muscles that he expected after a night of dancing.

He glared around the room, suddenly genuinely annoyed. Everything was off. The place was a dump and nothing like the fine finish he expected. Looking more closely, the plasterwork was shitty, with actual pieces flaking off it. The TV looked like it had not functioned in years.

Confusion filled him. Nothing was making any sense. He had watched that TV yesterday and it had worked perfectly, and the plaster could not have been that bad without him noticing earlier. The production company had put him into a posh hotel.

Confusion bubbled. Something was very wrong; nothing was making sense. Daniel spun around to examine the room.

It defied reality. This was his third day in the hotel. There was no way he would not have picked up on all this.

Daniel grabbed his iPad and sat down on the hotel chair.

Creak!

Under him, the chair starting warping, there was a high-pitched squeak, and it wobbled momentarily and then slow-collapsed under him with the sound of tortured metal.

He looked up at the ceiling with the broken chair pieces digging unpleasantly into his back. He was not even close to being hurt, as it had more sunk under him than failed instantly.

Everything was too weird. Maybe he was still asleep.

Either he was caught up in the nightmare still or the whole place had aged while he had been sleeping.

He lay on the ground, looking straight up. Maybe there would be a news article. Trying to turn to the power on the iPad in his hand, nothing happened. “Shit.” Daniel stared at the device. “Double crap.” Not only was it nonresponsive, the case looked burnt. He scrapped the blackened section, and his finger nail went right through the plastic and into the internals of the machine.

No wonder it was not working. He felt like screaming. That was a thousand bucks gone. His farm was successful, but he was not made of money, and that would sting. First the weird dreams, then that aggressive kiss and whatever substance she had transferred into his mouth, and now his iPad.

“My phone! No! No!” He jumped up to check it. If that crazy bitch had destroyed all of his equipment, he was going to have harsh words to James—after all, he had vouched for her. Or not. She might be innocent. There was no way she could have done that to the chair or the plaster or… nothing was adding up.

The phone when he grabbed it was not scorched like the iPad, but it looked like someone had run sandpaper all over it. The glass screen was scratched to almost being unusable, as was the back.

“Damn.”

Rage filled him. This was out of control. Then he glanced up at the light globe; besides not working, it was visibly broken. It was like he was an alternative reality, or maybe he was still tripping.

What else was wrong? He looked around and his insides froze. Right there on the bench top was a tiny handbag.

“Double no!” he groaned. That meant she was going to be back, or he would need to call her. At least it might let him get compensation for his phone, if she was at fault. But… It was not just his valuables, it was…

There was another terrifying scream from outside the room.

He jumped despite himself. That had sounded nearby, and it had cut off abruptly, unnaturally so. His heart raced. Mouth was completely dry, and he did not think it was the aftereffects of the night before.

What the hell was happening? he thought.

For a moment he could not move. That scream. It was not making sense, but he fervently wished he were at home. There he had access to weapons, both his shotguns and rifles.

That scream.

He listened for a minute, but there were no further disturbing noises, so he relaxed, but only slightly.

Daniel scooped up the handbag and grimaced, while thinking of the complications. At least now he could confirm her name. His failure to recall it had been annoying him. In the bag was her phone, cash, credit card, and an old student identification card. Her picture was as captivating on that simple plastic as she had been in real life on the dance floor. The same joy in her features that had captured his gaze had been caught in the photo.

Beautiful and as equally photogenic.

Ivey Jennings.

Well, he had known the name had started with an I. He would work out how to call her later, but given her phone was here, he was sure she would be in contact herself. Like his phone, hers also failed to start up, but surprise, surprise, it looked undamaged. For now, he would shower and go downstairs to find out what time it was and purchase breakfast from one of the nearby cafes, maybe a burger if they had it.

In the bathroom, the lights did not work. Of course, they did not. They were clearly in a blackout.

He felt like kicking something. Cursing, he stormed over and opened the blinds to full to get as much light in the hotel room as possible. Now, by leaving the door open, he could at least see a little.

Daniel stripped down and jumped into the shower.

Neither tap worked.

“What is up with this place?” To emphasise the statement, he half kicked the shower wall.

A tile directly above where he had kicked came loose and fell with a loud clicking sound.

The place was literally falling apart. Shitty plastering, the carpets had looked worn, and the tiles were dropping off in the wall. How had he put up with this yesterday?

Hairs rose on his neck. Something was very, very wrong. His mind was ticking away, but he could not put his finger on what happened. Everything was subtly wrong. His brain kept going wondering if he was still trapped in a nightmare, that or an alternative reality which was plainly ridiculous.

Using the palm of his hand, he smacked the wall experimentally. Several tiles fell and shattered on the shower floor. Maybe he would book out early because this was ridiculous.

Sniffing his armpits experimentally, Daniel recoiled. Deodorant would go a long way, but even with it, he knew he would be rank. He turned the tap on in the sink. A trickle of water came out, and he used it to wet a washcloth to scrub his armpits. Hopefully that and deodorant could mask the stench.

It was not a good start to the day.

The deodorant would need to work overtime, but when he picked the can nothing came out. He shook it vigorously and pressed. Nothing. Not even a brief spurt of gas.

“What?.”

He threw the can, and it slammed into the shower recess and more tiles crashed down. This was not normal.

“What is up with everything?” He hit the mirror in front of the sink, and the entire surface was suddenly filled with a spiderweb of cracks.

There was no way his blow could have broken it that easily. For a moment, he thought the glass shards were going to fall like the tiles and he prepared to spring out of the way.

It held together.

“I bet they try to charge me for that,” he said into the stillness. “Screw that. I won’t pay.” They could charge him as much as they wanted, but if he had to lawyer up, he would. After all, he had used little force. The whole thing had clearly been ready to just fall to bits.

This was ridiculous.

He needed to complain. Daniel sat gingerly on the bed, half-expecting it to break like everything else, but under his bum it felt normal. Daniel grabbed the desk phone angrily. What did you usually do? Dial 1?

He pressed one, and the phone was dead.

“Damn it,” he yelled. He should have known that the phone would not work. He jumped up and kicked the bed in frustration.

There was a loud squeak from underneath it. Daniel instinctively leapt up onto the couch. It sagged more than it should have but held.

All of his thoughts were around what was under the bed. It had not been a mechanical noise; it had been animalistic. The screams he had heard earlier, the worn nature of the whole place.

The fight-or-flight instinct exploded with him. Adrenaline or something like that. He was jittery with energy, but he was very much trending toward the fight side of things.

It was not a nightmare; this was real, and if so, there were only two options. This was an elaborate practical joke he would tell his grandkids about or something else . . .

Well, technically, there were lots of options, but none of them made any sense, so all of them got lumped into the one. It was a joke and given the level of detail; it was candid-camera style, or the world had gone crazy.

Daniel looked around for a weapon in case it was the second. The remains of the chair might be useful.

RarrGG!

The loud roar came from directly outside the room.

Daniel let out a distinctively feminine squeal, and as the couch collapsed, he had one thought as he fell. He hoped this was not a joke. Otherwise, the image of him falling wearing only a T-shirt, with everything else exposed, was so going to be in prime place during the promos.