Chapter 2

When the last clink and clatter had rolled to a stop and all was silent, we, the boat and its contents, slid through a largish hole of a port in the UFOs' hull and Lake Michigan became a teeny tiny dot below. The dot wasn't too bad; it was the fact I could see the dot through the still existing hole in the ship's hull. That was unnerving.

I eventually remembered how to breathe and did so ... for about three breaths full ... until a spider on the wall ... ceiling ... whatever, I hate spiders ... detached itself and dropped down on a web thread about the size of my wrist. Someone in the mix had to have been hilariously funny in high school because the spider sat down beside me and said, "Howdy. You're dead."

And then he let out the most realistic Santa belly laugh I could have possibly conjured up in my dreams. I looked at him in horror.

"No," he said, "Really ... you're dead. You froze to death before you had a chance to drown."

Then the weirdest thing happened.

What could top a spider the size of a redneck's pickup?

Before my eyes, the spider morphed into a white coated 1940's physician with all the tools of his trade, including a stethoscope that radiated frost, and a head mirror on a band around his forehead. The difference between a TV doctor and the no longer spider was the green skin and four hairy arms.

Some difference.

He put the earpieces of that still fogging stethoscope in his ears and nodded. Suddenly, I was naked. He put that ice cold stethoscope end on my chest right over my heart. I could feel it crystalize. Fuck, I could hear it stop in mid pump.

"Yup," he laughed. "Dead."

Well, hell! Of course my heart stopped ... anybody's would. That muther was cold. He morphed again.

"Let's Make A Deal. I'll put you on a planet that, for all intents and purposes, is the one you just left. While I'm at it, I'll fix everything wrong with your body and give you two more pounds of swinging meat between your legs. You can take all your legally owned possessions," he paused and looked at the wrecked sailboat. "Fixed so it's brand new, or I can drop you back in the Lake. Quick now."

In my mind I could hear a LMD audience screaming "Die!" in one ear and "Live!" in the other. "Boy, Bob. That's a hard one..." I rubbed my chin and made like I was trying to decide. "Everything I own?"

"Yessiree, David. Every ounce," said the green Bob Barker look-a-like.

"Or the lake and death?"

"Dead ... doornail dead," he agreed.

"Everything on the boat?"

"Yes!"

"You're sure I can take my possessions?"

I could tell he was getting frustrated ... I was waiting ... He broke.

"Everything you own, everything on your completely repaired boat ... I swear!"

"Ok."

"That's it? OK?"

"Yes Sir ... or madam ... as the case may be."

He morphed again to a wide shouldered, square jawed, blue collar worker carrying a box of tools on his shoulder. "I'll get started."

I could tell him saws and wood planes weren't going to be much use on fiberglas, I'd let him find out his own self.

"What? No magical fix? No instant repair? No nanobots? How long will it take?"

"Couple of months." He paused..."Nanobots?"

"Yeah," I said. "Nanoids, nanites, nanomachines or nanomites. Tiny repair machines."

"Tiny?"

"Angels on the head of a pin tiny."

"What do they do?"

"Fix things." I thought about it for a second. "They work in concert ... the good ones are sentient."

"Tiny thinking machines? Are they Union?" His turn to think. "Where can I get some?"

"Hell ... you're the space spider ... research it." That got him going. Distracted, he morphed back to a spider.

"How small?"

"Molecule for the smallest."

He started shrinking.

"Smaller," I said. A further reduction. He looked the question. "Nope ... smaller." Just before he shrunk out of sight I asked, "Can I go back to work? My boss is depending on me."

That stumped him. A job was a possession ... and I legally owned it.

"Ask the ship?"

"How do I do that?"

"Command Access Alpha Nx 9637 ... subparticle 3n926."

From pretty much out of nowhere came a voice, "Something, mumble garble gawk."

Not a clue but the spider ... pretty small by now, said, "AI, transfer control to the humanoid. Temporary. I have things to do."

"Garrglegoopgawk."

Fuck ... no idea ... so I spoke. "Hi, pleased to meet you, AI."

"GARRBLEGURGGLE AWK ... English ... post modernist ... Hi is a friendly greeting. Pleased is happy, meet ... diverse meanings ... in context? ... introduction. Happy friendly introduction, I am the ship. Yours is to command."

"Great," I stepped on the spider. "I hate spiders."

"Me too," said the ship. "What's a spider?"

"Look it up."

"Accessing."

A parade of earth spiders marched across the air in front of my eyes. That wasn't the scary part ... the scary part was they were alive ... and trying to get to me. I cringed.

"Spiders (order Araneae) are air-breathing arthropods that have eight legs and chelicerae with fangs that inject venom. They are the largest order of arachnids and rank seventh in total species diversity among all other groups of organisms. Spiders are found worldwide on every continent except for Antarctica, and have become established in nearly every habitat with the exception of air and sea colonization. As of 2008, at least 43,678 spider species, and 109 families have been recorded by taxonomists; however, there has been confusion within the scientific community as to how all these families should be classified, as evidenced by the over 20 different classifications that have been proposed since 1900.

Anatomically, spiders differ from other arthropods in that the usual body segments are fused into two tagmata, the cephalothorax and abdomen, and joined by a small, cylindrical pedicel. Unlike insects, spiders do not have antennae. In all except the most primitive group, the Mesothelae, spiders have the most centralized nervous systems of all arthropods, as all their ganglia are fused into one mass in the cephalothorax. Unlike most arthropods, spiders have no extensor muscles in their limbs and instead extend them by hydraulic pressure." Wikipedia.

The ship said it in one breath with no spaces between the words and no pauses for sentence structure ... the spiders original language was easier to understand ... and I didn't understand a word he said talking to the ship.

"Your Wikipedia is a marvelous reference. The footnoted books were wonderful. I'd have to say you're in charge ... since the spider is dead." Something like a chuckle sounded in my ears. "I hate spiders," the AI said. "Look, since you're in charge, go do something while I finish scanning."

"I can go to work?"

"No ... you're dead."

"Well, what can I do?"

"Where were you heading when you died?"

"Pentwater."

"What ... no ... wait..." Then came a lecture voice, "Pentwater ... coastal town in western Michigan. Former logging industry. Logging? Cutting down life for cellulose content..." That didn't sound too good.

I had a feeling of intense scrutiny ... of being weighed ... and judged ... like my very being was sliding down the razor blade of life. The tiniest mistake and I'd be sliced in half ... from the crotch up. Very unpleasant feeling.

"David? Where are we?" The girls were standing next to me. I could see wet footprints behind them ... all the way back to the boat.

Life just got extremely complicated.

"I think we should sit down. AI, is there a place we can sit?"

"Sit ... I don't ... ah, David? These are your... ?" That voice from the void ... so to speak.

"Friends." I said it as a positive thing.

"With benefits," said Keirstann and Britt. They said it as a positive thing.

"Where did they come from? ... oh, I see ... water on my clean deck." Not a positive thing.

"Who is that speaking?" asked Britt.

Keirstann asked, "Where is it?" Neither one of them was the tiniest bit abashed over the water. Water dries.

The questions were together and fairly faint, but the AI heard.

"I'm the ship's computer ... and the ship."

"Well, I must say ... that clears up everything," commented Britt.

"NOT!" exclaimed the pair like twins instead of very good friends. They turned back to back ... with arms akimbo they both shouted, "Ollie, Ollie, oats and feed, come in, come in, from where ever you beed." Ok ... it rhymes. Kids games.

And of course, I had to open my big mouth, " All-ee all-ee outs in free; Come in, come in from behind the big tree." Mine rhymed too.

"David? I wonder about your childhood..." Ann said.