The Lancet Fluke: A Sci-Fi Story

Inspired by Breaking the Spell by Daniel C. Dennett

Jason’s mother was starting to go crazy again. She’d stopped paying the bills, cooking dinner, or answering the phone. Each night Jason would microwave a can of soup or spaghetti for himself and his sister, and watch TV while they waited for their mother to get home.

But the meetings kept getting later and later.

When he asked her what was going on, or if she’d paid the Internet bill, or if he could have money to pick up groceries, she would brush him off.

“The end is coming,” she said. “Just be patient. None of this will matter soon anyway.” And then she would carry his little sister off to bed.

Jason didn’t know what she meant when she talked like this, but it gave him a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach, as if he were going to throw up.

He didn’t know if he should tell someone about it. His teachers had always taught him that if you thought somebody was going to kill themselves, you should tell an adult. But his mother was an adult. She should know better than to act like this.

And besides, he didn’t know if she was going to kill herself, the way his father had.

He finally got up the courage to tell his best friend Lisa what was wrong. She was in the eighth grade, one year older than him, and so he figured she counted as almost an adult.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “All mothers go through a phase like this when they get to be her age. It’s called menopause.”

“Menopause?” said Jason.

“It’s when they get too old to have babies,” said Lisa. “You’ll learn about it in sex ed.”

And so Jason continued making canned soup for his sister every night, and tried not to worry.

****

A couple of weeks went by, and his mother told him she wanted to take him along to one of her late-night meetings.

“I don’t want to go,” said Jason. Not if it’s going to make me start acting like you, he wanted to say.

“Well, it’s not up to you,” said his mother. “I’m telling you to come. You’ll be glad you did. It’s going to make you happier.”

“Is Jessie coming?”

“No,” said his mother. “She’s not old enough yet. I’m going to put her to bed.” His sister was already asleep on the couch.

“But, Mom — “

“No buts, Jason. Go wait in the car. I’ll be right outside.”

He climbed into the back seat of the car, where he always sat, and tossed the keys onto the front seat. “You can sit up front,” his mother said.

He moved to the front, but said nothing to her, just sat with his arms folded as the car pulled out of the driveway.

“There’s something I need to tell you, Jason,” she said. “It might be difficult for you to understand. But I need to be honest with you.”

Still Jason sat there silently.

“Your father was wrong,” she said. “Sending you to Sunday school. It was all a mistake, Jason. A big misunderstanding.”

“What are you talking about?” he said. He didn’t like to hear her criticizing his father, whose only mistake, as far as he was concerned, was suicide.

“Jesus is a lie, Jason,” he said. “He never existed. It’s important that you understand that, before we go to the meeting tonight.”

“What kind of meeting is this?” he said. “Some sort of a cult?”

“Don’t let me hear you use that word,” she said. “It isn’t as simple as you think. Now be on your best behavior. And don’t embarrass me.”

The meeting was held in a conference room in an empty church basement. There were about fifty people there, most of them around his mother’s age — well-dressed men and women. He felt as out-of-place as he had at his father’s funeral.

Jason’s mother nodded politely at a number of faces. He hadn’t seen her this social in years. A few times she even pushed him forward and said, “This is my son, Jason.” He shook their hands weakly.

As the crowd began to find their seats, Jason looked up at his mother. “I want to leave.”

“Don’t be rude,” she said. “The meeting’s just about to start.”

A tall, dark-haired man in a business suit walked out onto the platform at the far end of the hall. He had the same fiery look in his eyes that Jason’s father had had on the few occasions when he could remember watching his father say Mass. The crowd quieted as he raised his hands.

“Good evening,” he said. “Welcome to those who have returned to us for another night of meditation, and those who are joining us for the first time. We do not have much longer, so it’s important for us to be in the proper mindset for as much of the waking day as possible.

“To begin with, let us once again share the truth as has been revealed to us by the Lancet Fluke, as a way of welcoming those of us who are not yet fully aware of his existence.”

Jason looked around at the crowd. Everyone was staring at the leader. “Who is he?” he asked. He looked up at his mother, who muttered to him out of the corner of her mouth, as if afraid to look away for even a moment.

“He calls himself the Interpreter,” she said. “He interprets the words of the Lancet Fluke for those of us who cannot understand ourselves.”

“The Lancet what?” said Jason.

“Shh,” his mother said.

“For centuries, mankind has wondered what exists beyond the realm of this familiar reality. We have crossed oceans, built microscopes and telescopes, sent men and women into space. But until now, we have remained ignorant of that last great frontier: the world that exists outside of our own universe. Those of us who have been chosen to share the word of the Lancet Fluke now have the privilege and honor of revealing what we know.

“There is another universe outside of ours. Parallel to ours, you might say. In this universe, time and space do not work the same way as they do in ours. Space is two-dimensional. Time exists in pockets that do not connect with one another.” He paused, wrinkling his brow in a practiced way, as though he’d said this a million times. “This is the most difficult part to explain….

“It is as though there were no 17th, 19th, or 21st centuries. In this other world, there is no way to get from the 18th century to the 20th. You might exist in one pocket or the other, but you cannot move forward to the next. When the millennium arrives, your world ends. Time stops. Just think what a depressing prospect that would be! But there is a solution. There is a way to cross the time barrier, if you will. And the only way to do so is to cross into another universe and then back again. A universe like ours.

“Now, the pockets of time in this other universe do not correspond neatly to our world. Some of them may last for centuries, others only for a fraction of a second. But the Lancet Flukes do not experience time in the same way that we do. In fact, there is very little that we have in common with the Lancet Fluke, except for this: They share our bodies.”

There were murmurs from several of the adults who were newcomers to the meeting; one or two were walking toward the exits, while their husband or wife tried to intervene. Jason looked up at his mother again.

“Yes, you heard me right,” said the Interpreter. “Whether you like it or not, our bodies are time machines used to transport the Lancet Fluke through pockets of space-time in their own universe. They cross into our universe at the moment of conception, and they live with us, deep within our minds, for our entire lives, returning to their universe only when we die. This is how they move from pocket to pocket.

“But they can only survive in our minds if we believe in them. They will die if we don’t. Now, you might say, how can that be? I don’t know anyone who believes in the Lancet Fluke, so why haven’t they all died off by now? Not so. The Lancet Fluke reveals itself to us in many ways. Not all of us are blessed enough to see it face-to-face, for it is not a pretty sight indeed. Most of us are aware of the Lancet Fluke in one of its more accessible forms. Allah, Yahweh, Jesus Christ.” He paused again, and his voice took on a dramatic effect: “Yes, the Lancet Fluke so loved the world that he gave his only Son so that we might know him.”

“Until now, the Lancet Fluke has never shown itself directly. But the time is right, and so are we. It has chosen us to reveal its true identity to the world, and it needs us to believe in him. Is there anyone here who rejects the Lancet Fluke? Who finds it too strange, to difficult to accept? Be warned: you will forever be remembered as one who doubted. Soon, the world world will be aware of the Lancet Fluke’s existence. Let us be the ones to introduce them.”

****

The next day at school, he told Lisa what had happened. “That sounds like a cult,” she said. “I think your mother joined a cult — ”

“What should I do?” he asked.

“You could have her put into an insane asylum,” Lisa suggested.

“She’s still my mother,” said Jason. “Even if she’s insane. I don’t want them to take us away from her.”

“You could come live with me,” said Lisa.

“Don’t be silly,” said Jason. “Then you’d be my . . . sister.” He could not put it into words why that would be wrong, but he sensed that he might want Lisa to be something other than a sister to him somewhere down the line.

“Lisa,” he said. “Do you believe in God?”

She shook her head. “No,” she said.

“Why not?”

“My parents never taught me to,” she said. “I didn’t know what God was until you told me about him.”

He remembered the time that he had invited her to go to church with him, to see his father speak at the pulpit. He remembered being so proud of his father, as if it were not merely a church, but a movie theatre, and his father were the movie star.

And he remembered, later, the heated conversation over the phone that Lisa’s parents had had with his parents, and how Lisa wasn’t allowed to be friends with him anymore, not until his parents promised not to bring her to church again.

“You told me I was going to Hell,” she said.

Jason felt the color rise in his cheeks. She moved closer to him, so that their hands were almost touching on the park bench.

“Do you still think so?” she said.

Jason didn’t know what he thought any more. But if Lisa were going Hell, and his mother and father to Heaven, he did not know whom he would rather spend the rest of eternity with.

“No,” he said, his voice catching.

“Good,” said Lisa. She smiled, and then she got up to go home, but he didn’t want her to leave, because then he too would have to go home, and deal with his mother, and the Lancet Fluke, all over again.

****

Jason’s father had killed himself when Jason was eight. He remembered the call to the principal’s office, the mad rush to the hospital, where by the time he arrived his father was already dead, and there was nothing to do except sob in his mother’s arms and feel the kick of his sister’s legs in her belly.

At first he did not know that his father had killed himself. “There was an accident,” his principal had said. “Your father was found unconscious in the church this afternoon.”

What the principal didn’t say was how he had been found: sprawled across the altar, the chalice knocked over, the holy wine spilled across his robes like blood. There had been poison in the wine, the coroner reported.

At first Jason didn’t understand. Had someone tried to poison his father? “Yes,” said his mother, tearfully. “God poisoned him.”

It was only later that he realized his father had poisoned himself. “Say a prayer for him,” she told him. “Pray that God will let him into Heaven after all.” She didn’t have to say aloud that suicide was a sin for him to realize what the “after all” meant.

When Jason got home that night, his mother was already gone. She had left a note for him on the kitchen table. “Gone to meeting,” it said. “Took Jessie. Sad you couldn’t make it. Love, Mom.”

Jason crumpled it up and threw the letter away. At least he was old enough to know better, but what if Jessie grew up believing all this?

He made himself a sandwich and walked up to his room. He paused outside of the door to his mother’s bedroom, wondering how long it would be until she came home. He remembered that there was a box of news clippings that his mother had saved from his father’s death — only he didn’t know where she hid them. Under the bed? In the closet?

There was a desk in the far corner of the room, the one that his father had used to write his sermons. The lower right desk drawer was locked. Where was the key?

He searched around the room, in her jewelry box, on her nightstand, in her make-up kit, but he couldn’t find it. He didn’t want to waste his whole night looking for a key. There had to be some other way to get in the drawer.

He reached his arms across the top of the desk and pulled it, slowly, away from the wall. It was an old desk, tall and wide, but not very heavy. The back of the desk was made out of a single panel of wood that covered the drawers from behind. If he could just pry it open —

The nails that held the panel together were flimsy, so all he had to do was to pull on the wood and they slid right out. There was just enough room for him to slip his hand in, reach his wrist over the back lip of the drawer, and into the pile of papers that he felt sure must be there. He fingers touched the thin, crackly paper of a newspaper clipping, and below that a manila envelop. He lifted them out carefully, so as not to crinkle them more than they already were.

The newspaper article wasn’t about his father, but about his sister. “Widow of Late Rev. Gives Birth.” And below that, a picture of his mother and his sister in the hospital, just after she was born. But the article only made veiled references to his father’s death.

He opened up the manila envelope. The first thing that slipped out was a shiny photograph, of the sort you might get printed up at the convenience store, before people started using digital cameras. Only it wasn’t a snapshot, but a police photograph of the church where his father had died.

Jason fought back the urge to throw up. He could see the altar, and the body slumped across it, although the photo was in black and white, so he could not see the wine that looked like blood, or his father’s face.

He quickly slipped the photo back into the envelop, and didn’t remove the rest of the photos that his fingers came up against. Instead, he pulled out a single sheet of old, yellow loose-leaf paper, folded in thirds, as if to fit inside of an envelope. His mother’s name was on the outside.

It was his father’s handwriting. He knew what it was before he even opened up. He fought hard not to think about it as he read it, to pretend that it was somebody else’s father, or better yet, a character in a movie.

Dear Mary, the letter said. By now you will already know what I have decided to do, and it will be too late to stop me. If it makes it any easier, I want you and Jason to know that I love you very much, and wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of my life growing old with you. It would be simpler to say that I am following God’s plan in this matter, for I know you would understand that sometimes a man must do a bad thing in order to accomplish the will of God. You remember the story of Abraham and Isaac? It was not my son that I was asked to sacrifice, but myself; and it was not really God. Not the God that you and Jason believe in, at any rate.

Jason had a strange feeling that he knew what was coming next, but he forced himself not to read ahead, holding his hand across the paper and uncovering each line one by one with his finger, the way he often did when he was near the end of a book, and didn’t want to spoil the ending.

I have always taught that God appears in many forms, often in the form that a given person is most receptive to. If a black man imagines a dark-skinned Jesus on his crucifix, or an Asian man sees an Asian one, then who are we to say that their version of Jesus is more or less real than ours? The real, physical Jesus might have appeared in various forms even to the people who knew him. In fact, I have always thought it possible, though never spoke of it, that perhaps God himself takes some form other than human, and only appeared in the form of Jesus Christ because we would not have been receptive to his true form. I would never have guessed, nor would I have thought I’d have the privilege to see, God’s true form. But now the Truth has been shown to me, and it is as thought I have found the Holy Grail.

I cannot tell you here, for you would not understand, and perhaps think I am crazy. You must ask a man whom they call the Interpreter. He will explain for you, and answer any questions you have. Your time may not be as long as you think. I will go ahead and make a place for you and Jason, with love.

Jason’s heart was beating fast, his hands shaking. He put the letter back into the envelope, tried to push the words out of his mind. What did he mean, “Your time may not be as long as you think?” Was he expect Jason’s mother to kill herself too? And what was he doing with this Interpreter? Was it his father who had gotten his mother involved in this?

Jason slipped the envelope and the newspaper clipping back past the panel of the desk and into the drawer, careful to put it in the same way he had found it so his mother would not know he had been here. He pushed the panel back the way it had been and the desk against the wall.

Then he hurried into his room before his mother got home, and lay in his bed, wide awake. He could not get his father’s words out of his head.

I will go ahead and make a place for you and Jason. Was he expecting Jason’s mother to kill Jessie too? Jason decided he would have to put a lock on his door. And he would stop eating his mother’s leftovers.

****

Lisa met him at the bus stop again. He had not seen his mother since finding the note. When she returned that night to check in on him, he pretended that he was asleep, terrified at the sounds of her feet coming toward him, almost wincing when she bent over to kiss his forehead.

The next morning he had hurried off to school before she could wake up, getting to the bus stop an hour early, even before the sun had come up.

“What’s wrong?” said Lisa. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

He didn’t know what to say, but he wanted to kiss her on the cheek, just the way she had the previous evening. Seeing her was almost enough to push his father from his mind.

“It’s good to see you,” he said. “That’s all.”

On the bus he told her about the letter, and how his mother had taken his sister to see the Interpreter, and how he was worried that she might do something crazy.

“Jason,” said Lisa. “I know you didn’t want me to tell anyone, so please don’t be mad at me when I tell you this…. I talked to my parents about it.”

Jason felt a flash of anger, just like he always felt whenever one of the other kids said something about his parents. Ever since the time that Lisa had come to church with them, he had stopped telling people what his father did for a living: he would lie and say that his father was a policeman or fireman, or something like that.

But then his face softened. He knew she was only trying to help. In fact, she was the only person he could trust in the situation.

“They want you to talk to my Uncle Richard about it. He’s a professor at the university. I think he studies science, or philosophy, or something like that. My family was always very proud of him, but we never understood much about it. Oh, and he’s an atheist.”

“You’re an atheist,” said Jason.

“No, I’m not,” she said. “I just don’t believe in God.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?” said Jason.

“But Uncle Robert is different. He knows why he doesn’t believe in God. It’s basically his job, learning about why believe in God.”

“What makes you think he can help?”

“Well, he’s used to dealing with cases like this, cults and such. They said he might know more about this cult your mother joined.”

Jason nodded. “All right,” he said. “When can we see him?”

“They told me where he works,” said Lisa. She took out a piece of paper from her pocket. It was a downtown address. They would have to ride the city bus. “We can go after school,” she said. “He’ll be expecting us.”

****

Lisa’s uncle worked in a tall office building that overlooked the university below. He met them downstairs and rode the elevator with them.

“They ran out of space on campus,” he said, “so they stuck me up here.”

He had a hurried manner that reminded Jason of his mother’s lawyer — as though he were braced for an argument, running over in his head what he might say should someone try to pick a fight. But he didn’t say much until they arrived at his floor and entered his office.

It was filled with charts and graphs, and stacks of paper. All of the books on the shelves were holy books, Jason noticed — Bibles and Qu’rans and others that Jason had never heard of.

Jason and Lisa sat down across from him.

“Jason,” said the professor, “Lisa’s parents told me about your situation. Let me tell you how relieved I am that you found me. I think I can be of help.”

“You know about this cult?” said Lisa.

“Yes,” said Uncle Robert, “although I didn’t know how large they were, or that they were recruiting children.”

“Can we report them to the police?” said Lisa. “It must be illegal — ”

“We can’t prove anything of the sort just yet. All we know is that this isn’t an isolated incident. Other Lancet Fluke cults have been springing up across the country. They all seem to espouse the same ideas, though they all have developed independently of one another.”

“But they’re crazy, aren’t they,” said Jason. “They’re insane.”

Uncle Robert looked at him closely. “No matter how much I have disagreed with someone, Jason, I have never called them insane. It’s far too easy to write off the beliefs of an insane person as fallacy, and that doesn’t get anyone anywhere.”

“Then tell my mother to stop believing in this bullshit!”

Uncle Robert sighed heavily and turned to Lisa. “Lisa, can you leave me alone with Jason for a moment?”

Jason and Lisa looked at each other. What was going on? What did Uncle Robert have to tell him that he couldn’t tell her?

“It’s okay,” said Jason. “I trust her.”

“It’s not a matter of trust,” said Uncle Robert. “Lisa, please.”

“I’ll wait outside,” she said.

Uncle Robert got up heavily and lifted a piece of paper from a stack nearly as high as a bookshelf. He waited until the door clicked shut before turning around. “Look at this, Jason,” he said.

He handed the piece of paper to him. It was a thick, shiny paper, not a photograph, more like an X-ray. There was a highly pixelated image in the center of the page, very blurry, that looked like a praying mantis.

“What is this?” said Jason.

“That,” said Uncle Robert, “is an image from a new brain scan we have developed. In particular, that is the image of the brain of a theist. A Christian, to be precise.”

“But — “

“Look at this image, Jason.” He handed him another picture, but this one was much more uniform, just a gray lump of pixels that filled the entire page. “This is the brain-scan of an atheist. My own brain, as a matter of fact.”

Jason put it down and picked up the first page again.

“But what is that?” he said, pointing at the green shape.

“That,” said Uncle Robert, “is a Lancet Fluke.”

Jason shook his head and stood up. “No. Lisa said you were an atheist. She said I could trust you!” He couldn’t believe it. This man was just like the others, obsessed with these strange creatures from another universe —

“Sit down, Jason,” said Uncle Robert. “I don’t like it any more than you do. But I’m a man of science, and I have to accept what the evidence shows me. I do not worship the Lancet Fluke. I think it is a parasite, and I will do everything in my power to eradicate it. But it does exist.”

Jason sat down. “So everything my mother believes, that my dad believed — it’s true?”

“Some of is is true. Our bodies are carriers of the Lancet Fluke, yes. They remain dormant throughout our childhood, and become active only when we reach the age of reason. And they do seem to vanish when we die — no one has ever found a Lancet Fluke in an autopsy.

“But our brain scans show that there is a difference between those who believe in God and those who don’t. Those that do believe retain the Lancet Fluke for the rest of their lives. But when one stops believing, or has never believed, the Lancet Fluke dies. It vanishes, just like that.

“We think that prayer, meditation, belief … they activate the cortex of the brain where the Lancet Fluke is located. In turn, the Lancet Fluke encourages belief, releasing certain hormones and endorphins into the human body. That’s why it is so difficult to shake a believer’s faith. But without that constant attention, the Lancet Fluke dies.”

“What about me?” said Jason. “Do I have a Lancet Fluke in my head?”

“Yes,” said Uncle Robert. “And so does Lisa. That’s why I sent her away. Lisa has never been indoctrinated into the creed of any religion. So long as she remains unaware that there is any truth to this matter, then she is in no danger. It will wither away and die.”

“And me?”

“Well, you are in a unique position, Jason. No one your age has ever known the truth about the Lancet Fluke before. The one in my brain had long since vanished by the time I found out about it, as had those of my colleagues. It is really up to you whether or not to accept it.”

“Accept it?” said Jason.

“Yes,” said Uncle Robert. “You must decide whether or not to devote your life to the Lancet Fluke. To be its carrier through time, and then die. As your father did, Jason.”

“You mean my father killed himself because — “

“Because his Lancet Fluke desired to return to its universe at that particular time. Who knows why, or how large of a window there may have been. Your father is not the only one, Jason. Many martyrs have chosen to die for the Lancet Fluke throughout history. Most of them thought they were dying for God. Some were able to take thousands of other Lancet Flukes along with them. None of them knew what they were really dying for.”

“So what am I supposed to do?” said Jason.

“I want you to go back to the meeting the next time your mother goes. Find out as much as you can about the Interpreter’s plans. And then come back and tell me.”

“And you’ll . . . help?” said Jason.

“I’ll do everything I can.”

“Thanks, professor.”

Uncle Robert stood up. “And Jason? Don’t tell Lisa what I just told you. Not now, at any rate. Once this whole thing passes, I’ll show her the scans. But the image I showed you of the child’s brain? That was hers. If the Lancet Fluke can sway her before too long, then she’s lost. Not many people are strong enough to fight back when the Lancet Fluke wants his way.”

****

The first thing Jason did when he got home was to pack his bags — a duffel bag full of clothes to get him through the week, a backpack full of odds and ends: mementos from his father that he didn’t want to leave behind, a few granola bars and things to snack on. If he had to run away, then he would probably only have to make it to Lisa’s house, or her uncle’s office, but still, it was good to be prepared.

He had just carried the bags down to the living room, to stow them in the back of the garage for a quick getaway, when his mother returned.

“Where are you going with that?” she said.

“Oh,” said Jason. “I was going to sleep at Eric’s house.” He wasn’t of course, but he could always invent a sudden change of plans later.

“Not tonight,” she said. “The Interpreter called an emergency meeting of the faithful. He says it’s important for all of us to be there.”

“But Mom,” he said. “I made plans — “

He was only protesting for her sake; it would look suspicious if he gave in too easily. Uncle Robert had told him to find out as much as he could about the Interpreter, and the only way he could do it was by going.

“Then change them,” she said. “You already missed last night’s meeting. Do you want to get left behind?”

“Left behind?” he said. “Behind where?”

“Go and change into some nicer clothes while I get your sister ready.”

With a show of reluctance, Jason dropped his bags beside the door and went to his bedroom to change. On his way back downstairs, he stopped to retrieve one last thing from his mother’s room — the cross that his father had always worn around his neck. He slipped it around his own neck, beneath his button-down shirt; he was not sure why he wanted to wear it, whether it was on the chance that Uncle Robert was wrong and his father’s God did exist, or simply because it reminded him of his father.

Then he hurried downstairs to join his mother in the car, before she grew impatient and came looking for him.

****

The church basement was even more crowded than before, as though every member had brought another one or two family members with them. It reminded him of church on Easter Sunday, how it was always more crowded than the rest of the year. It was clear that this meeting was different somehow, more important. Already it was standing-room-only.

“What’s going on?” Jason asked. “What so special about this meeting?”

“Be patient,” his mother said. “The Interpreter is going to come any minute to explain.” She was standing beside him, occasionally bending down to quiet his sister, who clung to her leg.

He slipped his hand through the space between his buttons, fingering the cross that was hanging from his neck. He wished his father were still alive; he would know what to do.

Finally, there was a commotion at the front of the room, as the Interpreter appeared, followed by two grown men, as docile as altar boys.

Jason dreaded what he was about to say.

“Good evening,” he said, “and thank you for coming. For those of you who have brought friends and family, you have done them an incredible service, and they will thank you later. Let me remind everyone why it is that we are here, the very purpose of our lives on earth.”

And he repeated the story of the Lancet Fluke, almost exactly as he had told it the last time. Only this time, as Jason listened, he could no longer think of the Interpreter as crazy, not after what Uncle Robert had told him. Instead he heard the story through new ears, pictured the little green creature inside of the Interpreter’s head, inside his mother’s head, his sister’s head — and if Uncle Robert was right, then even in his own head, although that was harder to imagine.

It was like trying to cross your eyes, to see something just outside your field of vision, something just out of reach.

But this time, when the Interpreter had reached the end of the story, he kept going. There was more to it than last time.

“Forgive me,” the Interpreter said, “if I have not been fully transparent with you. I only know as much as the Lancet Fluke chooses tells me, and even that I can only grasp within my limited human capabilities. But this night, the Lancet Fluke is willing to reveal more than ever before, to explain what it is their people ask of us. We should feel grateful that we are among the privileged few to hear this revelation.” His eyes looked dazed now, almost trance-like.

“A time of great change is at hand. For centuries, human beings and the Lancet Fluke have existed in harmony — in a symbiotic relationship as integral as that between the flower and the honeybee. A time is coming when our two universes will intersect, if only temporarily — when humankind will at last be able to cross over into the Promised Land that we were made for. The Lancet Flukes have prepared a place for us in their universe, a place where all men, alive and dead, can live forever. That is our reward for the work we have done for them, by giving them a home in our bodies. But we must be the first. We must be the first to cross over.”

“How do we cross?” someone in the audience shouted. “How can we get to their universe?”

“The moment will be brief,” said the Interpreter. “A window in time that will quickly be shut, never again to re-open in our lifetimes. We have one chance to get it right, and I trust that all of you will be ready and waiting to join me. On Sunday, just a few short days from now, we will meet here again — but only those of you who are ready to make that commitment. Bring your families with you, or else they will be left behind. You need no other belongings. The Lancet Flukes will see to your every need. I have faith in the kindness of the Lancet Flukes, just as we have shown kindness to them. How many of you will be joining me?”

It was not a loud cheer, but then most of the crowd were grown men and women, steady and stoic, not accustomed to cheering. Some called out words of approval. Jason’s mother raised her hand, like a schoolgirl raising her hand in class. “Raise your hand, Jason,” she said. “Show the Interpreter that you’re one of us. You don’t want him to turn you away.” Jason scowled.

The Interpreter looked so pleased that Jason did not think he would be turning anyone away; and besides, Jason would not have minded if he had. He did not want any part of this, could not see why anyone would want to live out the rest of their lives in some other universe.

The crowd quieted, and the Interpreter began to speak again. “There has been a question,” he said. “Someone wants to know what will happen to our loved ones who have already passed away before us. Have they been lost forever? Will they be trapped in our universe for the rest of eternity? Of course not. The Lancet Flukes know that we would not be able to leave our universe behind, knowing that our loved ones would be separated from us forever. They too will be joining us, so that we can see them again. But not all of them — not those poor souls who failed to believe in the Lancet Fluke, in one of its many forms. Only those men who have carried a Lancet Fluke from conception to the grave will be welcome in their universe. . . .”

Jason shook his head. He didn’t want to hear this. Even though he knew that it could not be true, his heart wanted to believe it. He felt the false hope rising in his brain, wondered if it was the work of the Lancet Fluke trying to deceive him. To think that all he had to do was cross the bridge into this other universe, and his father would be waiting for him….

Perhaps his mother wasn’t so wrong after all. The Lancet Flukes might be parasites, might be strangers in their bodies for their own unknowable ends, but if they wanted to reward mankind for their trouble, who was he to refuse their gift? This was more real than the Heaven that his father had believed in. Even Uncle Robert had believed it, in his own scholarly way. Jason had proof. He had seen the images of a Lancet Fluke in a real human brain. In Lisa’s brain —

Jason frowned. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t leave Lisa behind. She would never believe it, would never come with him. The Lancet Fluke in her mind was doomed to die. And she would never be able to leave this universe —

He had to see Lisa again. He had to talk to Uncle Robert. Maybe he could change their minds. It was too late for Uncle Robert — his Lancet Fluke was long gone. But there was still hope for Lisa. Maybe she’d come with him after all.

****

“So you think I’m crazy,” he said.

“No,” said Lisa. “I don’t think you’re crazy. I just think you’re wrong.”

“But what if it’s true?” he said. “What if these things really do exist? What if there’s a Lancet Fluke inside of your head?”

“Then they wouldn’t be welcome,” said Lisa. “And I wouldn’t believe a single word they said. They could be lying to you, for all you know.”

Jason sighed. She didn’t get it, did she? If something was true, then that threw all other logical considerations out the window.

“Your uncle believes it,” he said.

“What?” she said, her eyes confused.

Jason hesitated. He had promised Uncle Robert not to tell her . . . but he knew that there was no other way, that she would never believe him unless someone she respected thought it might be true. “He has proof,” he said. “He’s done research. That’s what he told me when he sent you out of the room. That you have a Lancet Fluke in your head too. He didn’t want you to know. But there’s proof, Lisa. There’s scientific proof of it. . . .”

Her eyes remained narrowed. He knew she didn’t want to believe it. But she also didn’t want to believe that her uncle was a liar. Or that Jason was.

“Let’s go see Uncle Robert,” she said. “I’ll ask him myself.”

****

Before long, Uncle Robert’s eyes were narrowed at him too, glaring at him for having told Lisa what he’d promised to keep to himself.

“I want to see the scans,” said Lisa.

Reluctantly, Uncle Robert removed the papers from the stack and showed Lisa the same images he had shown Jason. Her eyes widened.

“So Jason’s right,” she said. “These things — “

“Are parasites,” her Uncle said, his face hardened. “And do you know why we call them Lancet Flukes? Because there’s a similar parasite that inhabits the brains of ants. It makes the ant leave its colony and crawl up to the top of a blade of grass and hang on tight, waiting for a cow to eat it. And if a cow doesn’t come along that day, then at night it climbs back down and returns again the next day. But it always ends the same way — eventually it ends up in a cow’s stomach.”

“But this is different,” said Jason. “The Interpreter says our two universes are going to intersect. That there’s going to be a bridge between the worlds — “

“And you’re going to take his word for it?”

Jason hesitated. He knew why he had come. He wasn’t ready to believe the Interpreter’s words, not without Uncle Robert’s approval. But he wanted to believe it, if only Uncle Robert admitted that it might be true. If Uncle Robert already knew about the Lancet Fluke, how much more did he know about their universe? “No,” he said. “But I’ll take your word for it.”

Uncle Robert sighed. “It is true,” he said, “that our two universes are on a path to intersect. But the Interpreter could not be more wrong about the Lancet Fluke’s intentions. What motive do you think they could possibly have to bring humans into their universe?”

“I don’t know,” said Jason; the Interpreter had made it sound so convincing, but he had to admit how weak the idea sounded.

“Jason, the Lancet Flukes intend to invade our universe. And they intend to use gullible people like your mother to do it. The Interpreter is wrong, Jason. I’ve seen cults like these before. Jonestown. The Hale-Bopp suicides. It always ends the same way. The Interpreter might have good intentions, but you’ll be dead nonetheless. And with the walls between our universes so weak, the Lancet Flukes will not be forced to return to their own world. They will no longer be content to inhabit our minds; they want bodies of their own, with which to destroy us.”

“How do you know this?” said Jason. “You don’t have any more evidence than the Interpreter does, do you? He could be the one who’s right!”

“Jason,” said Uncle Robert. “You should know me by now. I never reach conclusions without evidence.” He reached into his pile of papers again, and pulled out another photograph.

“This was taken in New Mexico, the last time a Lancet Fluke managed to penetrate the walls of our universe. No one knew what it was at the time; they thought it was from somewhere else in our own universe. An alien.”

In the picture was an ugly, green insectoid being, just like the one that Uncle Robert had shown him in the brain scans. Only this one was large, bigger than the man who posed for scale behind the Lancet Fluke’s dead body.

Jason shivered.

“And you want to go live with these things?” said Lisa. “Maybe you are crazy.”

****

Jason didn’t know who to believe any more. He wished that his father were here. His father always knew what to say, in a way that made sense, that didn’t leave so much to the imagination. Jesus loves you, he would say. Or, God has a plan. His father had an answer to everything.

Only he had gone crazy too, in the end.

Jason sat on his bed and touched the cross around his neck. He wanted it to be true, everything that he had always grown up believing. That Jesus had died for us. That God had sent his only son. That there was a place for him in Heaven. Please God, he said. Don’t let it be true. Don’t let the Lancet Fluke fool me. It’s the Devil, isn’t it? It’s the Devil trying to fool us. They aren’t Lancet Flukes after all, just the Devil….

He prayed over and over again, harder than he had ever prayed in his life, forgetting the words that his father had taught him and making it up as he went along, all the while clutching tightly to the cross in the palm of his hand. And suddenly there was a shimmer at the far end of the room. Jason wiped his eyes, unsure if maybe he was just crying, and his vision had blurred. But no — there was something there.

Jason shook his head. It couldn’t be. An angel. A goddamn angel. With wings, and a halo, glowing so brightly that he could hardly stand to look at it. What was an angel doing here, in his bedroom?

“Do not be afraid,” the angel said.

Of course not, thought Jason. He wasn’t afraid. Why should he be afraid? An angel meant that his father was right, that the Interpreter was wrong, that the Lancet Flukes were just a figment of Uncle Robert’s imagination, that the God of the Bible was real…. A goddamn angel!

“My name is Zaphaniel,” the angel said, “and I have come with a message for you. For you, Jason. God has seen fit to send me to you.”

Jason wanted to speak, to thank him, to tell him how grateful he was to have been chosen, but he couldn’t think of anything to say. It didn’t matter. The angel would tell him everything that he needed to know. Maybe it would even give him a sign to show his mother….

“You are living in a Holy time,” said the angel. “A moment of change is upon us, after which nothing will be the same. I know you have doubts, Jason. God has forgiven you for them. But you must do what is best for you and your family.”

“What?” said Jason. “What do I have to do?”

“You must trust the Interpreter,” he said.

Jason moved away, toward the far side of the bed, uncertain.

“I know that the Lancet Fluke is not the same God that you know, but not everyone is fit to gaze upon the Lord with his own eyes; many are not even fit to stand in the sight of an angel. When the time comes for you to pass out of this world and into Heaven, you must join the others — “ Jason frowned. What was he saying? This couldn’t be true! Surely God wouldn’t have sent an angel to deliver this news to him. It didn’t make sense —

“No,” said Jason. “That isn’t right.”

The angel stopped and stared at him. “What did you say?” His voice was deepening, his halo glowed more brightly, and suddenly Jason was afraid.

“I said it isn’t true,” he said. “You aren’t really an angel.”

The angel’s voice rose, and his halo brightened, so that Jason had to look away. “How dare you defy a messenger of the Lord!” it said.

“You aren’t an angel!” said Jason. “You’re a Lancet Fluke, and you’re trying to mess with my head! I’m not going to fall for it! You can’t hurt me!”

He stood up suddenly on his bed, towering over the angel. “You only exist in my head!”

Jason could have sworn that the angel flickered in his vision, that his body was as transparent as the mist that he had arrived in.

“Kneel!” said the angel. “Bow before the messenger of the Lord!” The wind was rising, and it was suddenly cold in his bedroom; Jason wondered if his mother might appear at his door to see what the commotion was, or if she was under some illusion of her own.

Jason stood his ground. “I know who you are!” he said. “You’re a Lancet Fluke! You’re green, and slimy, you’ve got four eyes, and I’m going to crush you like a goddamn bug!”

The angel shimmered, but Jason could tell it was weakening.

The Lancet Fluke didn’t have the strength to prolong the illusion, not when Jason was crushing every ounce of belief that remained in his brain.

Jason knew that if this worked, there was no going back. It wasn’t just the Lancet Fluke he would be destroying, but the hope too, the hope at the back of his mind that that perhaps God was real, and Jesus too, and yes, even this angel. By destroying the Lancet Fluke, he would be destroying them too, destroying any hope of ever believing in God again.

He tore off the cross from around his neck.

“What more do I have to say to you?” he said, as the angel continued to fade. “I don’t believe in you! Do you get it?”

And suddenly the angel was surrounded by a swirl of mist, and when the mist cleared, something else had appeared — a scaly, green insectoid, nearly as tall as Jason, that would have been even scarier than the angel if not for how weak and pathetic it looked.

Now, it spoke directly into Jason’s brain.

“Please,” it said. “Think about what you’re doing. Without me, you’ll never be allowed into my universe. Your mother and sister will leave you. You’ll be left behind! You need me, Jason — if you want to see your father again — ”

“No!” said Jason. “Go back to your universe. I don’t need you — ”

“Jason,” it said, in a weak, rasping voice. He felt bad for it, this poor, pathetic creature, who depended on Jason’s body for life, who needed Jason more than he needed it. But he wasn’t about to die for it.

“Go away,” he said. “I’m done with you. I’m not afraid of you, either.”

He could see the Lancet Fluke fading away, just as the angel had. “You need me, Jason. Human beings weren’t meant to live without us — “

“But we can live without you,” said Jason. “That’s the different between you and me.” And he hurled the crucifix at the fading Lancet Fluke.

It went right through him, and landed on the floor at the far side of the room.

“Jason,” it said, trying one last time. ”I love you, Jason. Don’t you love me? We’ve been through so much together, haven’t we — “

“Goodnight,” said Jason, and he crawled into bed.

He was tired, and relieved, and it did not take long for him to fall asleep, even with the Lancet Fluke watching.

By the time he woke up, the strange green creature was gone.

****

The next morning, Jason’s mother burst into his room. “Quick,” she said. “The Interpreter called an emergency meeting. The Crossing Over is going to happen today!”

Jason rolled out of bed. He had forgotten all about this. He’d spent so much energy last night getting rid of his own Lancet Fluke, he’d forgotten that his mother hadn’t fought off hers. She still intended to join the Interpreter on his suicide mission to another universe.

He was tempted to tell her that she could go without him, that he was perfectly happy here, in this universe, for the time being.

But he knew that if she went, she would never return, and neither would his sister; and he had to stop the cult from creating an opening for the Lancet Flukes to cross into this universe.

“Mom,” he said. “Can I call Lisa? I want her to come. I don’t want to leave her behind.”

His mother smiled at his use of the phrase, as though it suggested he finally believed it. “Of course,” she said. “But hurry up.”

It took a lot of convincing to do to persuade Lisa that he wasn’t insane, that he wasn’t intending to take her with him into this parallel universe. He had a plan, he told her, to stop the Lancet Flukes, and he needed to to be there with him, to help.

“All right,” she said. “But let me tell Uncle Robert where I’m going.”

Within half an hour, they had readied his sister, climbed into the car, and were ready to go. His mother was wearing her nicest dress, and she’d insisted that he wear a suit and tie for the occasion. Lisa was waiting for them outside her house.

“Hi, Lisa,” said his mother. “I’m so glad you could come. It’ll be nice for Jason to have a girl his own age . . . where we’re going.”

Jason looked at Lisa, as if to apologize for the awkward fact that his mother believed they were on their way to another universe. But he saw that she was blushing; he had overlooked the other implication that his mother had made, and was not sure which was more embarrassing. They drove in silence the rest of the way to the assembly.

The Interpreter was on stage; he looked to be in a hurry, barely paying attention to those who arrived, instead tinkering with a giant device that looked like a clock, except that it was shaped like the symbol for infinity, with other unknown symbols etched along its frame.

“What is that?” asked Lisa.

Jason didn’t know. But word passed through the crowd that this was the device that would show them when the window between the worlds was opening, and how much time they had before it closed again. There were hands on both sides of the clock, moving in opposite directions, and Jason had the feeling that the moment they met up in the center of the infinity symbol the Crossing would begin.

“Do you see that?” said Jason.

He pointed to a giant chalice that was sitting on the stage beside the Infinity Clock, not unlike the cup from which his father had offered his congregants the Blood of Christ each week.

He wondered if it was the same cup from the crime scene photo, the same cup from which his father had once drunk poison.

“That’s got to be the Kool-Aid,” he said.

“The Kool-Aid?” asked Lisa.

“The poison. Once they start the ceremony, I’m going to run onto the stage and dump it out. I need you to cover for me.”

Lisa nodded. He was glad that he had brought her. It was important that they wait until just the right minute before they intervened — too soon, and the Interpreter would be able to regain control of things while the window of time was still open.

The two hands on the Infinity Clock were growing closer and closer. Jason wondered when the ceremony was going to start. Finally the Interpreter took the microphone.

“Our time is at hand,” he said. “The window draws closer. It is time for us to prepare for our Crossing Over. The Lancet Fluke has offered us nectar from its home universe.”

“Nectar,” murmured Jason’s mother. Jason felt sick to his stomach. How could his mother have fallen for such a scheme? She must have a powerful Lancet Fluke inside her head. Lisa looked up at him and squeezed his hand.

There were less than five minutes until the hands on the clock met up. The audience had begun to assemble in line, just like at Holy Communion. The Interpreter filled the chalice with a green liquid.

Jason pulled Lisa forward, and signaled to his mother to move closer to the front of the line. He wanted to get there just as the clock struck.

The Interpreter raised the chalice over his head, and Jason thought he saw a flicker of green pass over his body. The Lancet Fluke inside him was growing stronger, feeding off of his belief.

“This is our Nectar,” he declared, “which we have given up for you.”

Now Jason pushed forward toward the stage, until he was only several feet away from the Interpreter, Lisa trailing right behind him.

He glanced over at the Infinity Clock. The hands were seconds away from meeting.

He watched, horror-struck as the Interpreter raised the chalice to his lips and drank. Again his body shimmered, as if there were a green skeleton inside, waiting to get out.

This was Jason’s chance. He hurried up on stage, barreling into the Interpreter, and knocking over the chalice before anyone else could be offered a drink.

The crowd surged forward, surrounding them, clamoring for the chalice and the spilled liquid. But apparently the Interpreter had been prepared for such an event: half a dozen assistants poured forward from the wings, to hand out more cups of nectar to the audience.

Finally the minute hands touched and the Clock aligned. Pitchers were passed around. Those who had cups were raising them to their lips.

Others had dropped onto the floor where the chalice had spilled, pressing their faces into the liquid, lapping it up like dogs.

Jason turned around to see that his mother had taken a cup, and was dunking it into the bottom of a near-empty pitcher, trying to fill it as best she could. She tried to lift it to Jason’s sister’s lips. Jason knocked the cup out of her hand. “Jason!” she said. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Don’t you dare,” he said. “Lisa, take my sister.”

Lisa pulled her from his mother’s arms. Jason stepped toward his mother.

“Just because it might be too late for you, doesn’t mean it isn’t too late for the rest of us.” He bent down and picked up the cup, and offered it to her. “Drink it if you want to.” But she didn’t take it. Someone else did.

Jason took a glance at the clock. The window of time when the two hands were touching was almost up. He hoped he had disrupted it long enough that the Lancet Flukes would not have time to get through before the hands moved apart. There was no sign of them yet.

“Look,” said Lisa. “Look at the Interpreter.” She pointed to the floor just below the stage, where the Interpreter had fallen, succumbing to the effects of the nectar. Around him, others had fallen, writhing, but he was the first to lay still. Everyone watched.

Without any warning, without even a twitch from his dying body, a crack appeared along the crown of his skull, like an egg hatching. And into the pool of blood that formed, a tiny Lancet Fluke came crawling out, growing bigger and bigger as they watched, until it was taller than anyone present. Several people screamed; one man bowed before it.

“Oh, God,” said Lisa, as the giant Lancet Fluke bent down and locked its jaws around the kneeling man’s head, dropping his limp body to the floor.

Around them, other Lancet Flukes were hatching, crawling out of their hosts’ bodies, growing larger and larger, searching for prey.

“We’ve got to get out of here!” said Lisa.

Jason pulled his mother along, away from the stage. The back of the room was less crowded, and they were able to break through the congregation toward the doors.

The four of them, Jason, Lisa, his sister, and mother, barreled out of the church hall and down the stairs. They had just reached the parking lot when a dozen armored vehicles came into view.

“How did they know — ?” asked Jason.

“I told Uncle Robert that the Crossing was today,” said Lisa. “He said he would warn the police. He wasn’t sure they would believe him.”

“I guess they did.” A stream of armed soldiers and SWAT teams was advancing on the building. Jason led the others to the far side of the road, where they paused to catch their breaths.

“Do you believe me now?” said Jason. “Or do you still think I’m crazy?”

They looked back to see a giant insectoid head burst through the front door of the building, only to be blown to pieces by the advancing soldiers.

“I don’t know,” said Lisa. “It’s all so … strange.”

He could see the wheels turning in her head, her deep-set commitment to logic and reason; and he felt sure that, whatever explanation she accepted, it would be because of her own free will, and that no Lancet Fluke would ever get ahold of her. He smiled and grabbed her hand as they ran.

****

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