Conversation · Insulindian Phasmid

There is some kind of countdown happening, as it slowly processes the overwhelming brightness of the signal. The invertebrate is regaining control...

The stimulus overloaded it. It's passing, like an extended moment, or a gall stone.

Here, within the smooth white inner part of its limb you sense... something very intimate. Thoughts.

"Lieutenant, it's thinking with its limbs."

"The nervous system could be spread out like that..." He whispers behind you. "Over the extremities, like a cuttlefish."

Or a ryacintha, an Occidental leaf insect with its brain stored in four leaf-like extensions. Or a mimicry octopus with its intelligent tentacles...

It's your secret alone.

Another shudder passes through the forearm under your palm -- feels like blood pumping through a brain. It's coming to, you withdraw your hand slowly.

"We got it..." (Back off.)

Another shudder pulses through the creatures limbs. It jolts back to life, like a record continuing were it left off -- in a swaying, praying motion. Even the small black pearls of its eyes do not stray from you...

They are filled with adoration and curiosity. The adoration of some wheel, or dominion spinning around its parent deity. And the curiosity of a common wasp, tasting sugar in a fizzy drink.

A shudder pulses through the creatures limbs. It jolts back to life, like a record continuing were it left off -- in a swaying, praying motion. Even the small black pearls of its eyes do not stray from you...

Don't say it! Are you sure? This may be the only chance you get to touch it...

(I'm sure.) "We got it, Kim..." (Keep backing.)

No, wait...

The arthropod towers above you, frozen in place. A twitch passes one of its hind legs, as you...

Slowly reach out and touch the creature's whisker.

The antennae hang from a great height. With your hand shaking you barely touch the tip of the left whisker. On contact the chitin curls into a spiral, like the tip of a poison ivy. Its touch on your fingertip feels cold, ticklish...

The sensation is electrifying, resounding through your body.

It is surprisingly delicate -- the curly end of the whisker, like a young bine. It's even a bit wet.

Looks like someone's got hurt in a fight. This antennae is much smaller than the other one.

"Be careful, detective... It's moving."

Wipe it off.

Feels like nothing. The arthropod in front of you stays frozen...

Look at your finger.

You were right, it glistens with some kind of moisture. The creature in front of you stays frozen...

(Look up.) "You're smelling me..."

The insect's head is crowned with reed-like scales, the shape of seed heads. They rustle as the air moves. The ventricles at its abdomen continue to expanding, like lunglets...

Breathing you in -- your sour, greasy semiochemicals on the breeze...

"Hello. I don't know who I am."

No reply. A total, ancient silence comes from its mouth, along with what appears to be some kind of foam... The stridulations of its limbs continue all around you.

Back off.

The invertebrate stops, raising its scythe-like arms and tilting its tiny head, formed from the fused plates around its mouth. For a second, the effigy is frozen, then it nudges back into motion with a click.

Stand on your tiptoes and look more closely...

You were right. Little bubbles form on the mouthparts of the creature -- on its segmented lower lip. It looks to be foaming, slowly. The foam is white, then yellowish...

The faintest smell, like you've never felt before. Like burnt roses.

(Whisper.) "Kim, it's foaming."

"Careful. It may be poisonous." The lieutenant watches you apprehensively.

The foam slowly turns a darker shade, like burnt caramel -- as the insect moves its mouthparts, masticating. The little bubbles begin to burst, one by one...

Letting out that same smell, like summer burning.

Apricot blossoms. White blossoms erupting. A sensation, like cold hands on your face.

"Whoah... maybe it's poison? Fucking hell..." The kid watches you apprehensively.

Let your heels drop back onto solid ground.

"Why are you're foaming?"

Silence. Click. The foam slowly turns a darker tone, like burnt caramel -- as the insect moves its mouthparts, masticating on nothing in particular. Then the little bubbles begin to burst, one by one...

Disengage slowly. [Leave.]

As you're turning away, the phasmid mirrors your movements, stepping on the water -- the long limbs carry its feather weight without breaking its surface.

And just like that it's gone -- skating away across the sea's calm mirror like a skipping stone, leaving nothing but circles on the water...

...and something under it! In the place it stood, bobbing there, among the reeds. A collection of items.

"It's gone..." The lieutenant looks north, with his hand raised to his brow.

"What's that -- in the reeds?"

He squints. "Looks like a nest of some sort? We should have a look."

"You didn't get the picture?"

"No." You have rarely seen him with that face.

He is very disappointed you didn't warn him -- or plan it with him...

"We are now just another pair of crackpots who did not take a picture of the giant cryptid.... Maybe we'll get another chance? We know it's here now..."

He cannot believe what he's saying too much.

"It can walk on water?"

"Apparently, yes -- like a water strider, only..." He shakes his head with amazement. "I've never seen anything like that in my life."

"What now?" [Leave.]