Conversation · Insulindian Phasmid

The tracheal system on the creature's abdomen expands in front of you, to take in and expel air -- it's smelling you.

...hissing and clicking, it extends its mandible-like antennae to greet you. You're right below it now, looking up at the colossal chitin of its white limbs. The head of the creature is crowned by reeds and its eyes are like small droplets of water.

You barely get to take one step -- the invertebrate reacts with uncanny speed, skating away across the water. It's gone, like a skipping stone, leaving nothing but rings on the sea's calm mirror...

It's blending into the tufts of reeds in the distance! Moving from islet to islet...

"Where? Where did it go?" The lieutenant has the camera in one hand -- and a slip of white paper in the other, developing.

"What now?" (Continue.)

"What now..." the old man behind you repeats suddenly. He's put his hand into the ash -- it's dirty and black.

In some kind of strange, semi-catatonic state.

"Our suspect's not looking so good. We should check him over -- also..." He points to the reeds.

"It looks like it has some kind of nest there... Maybe there's proof in there."

In the reeds, where the phasmid was hiding, you see a little flash of white -- porcelain white.

(Yell.) "No!"

Your voice echoes on the water.

Three-hundred metres inland special consultant Trant Heidelstam cups his ear. Satellite-Officer Vicquemare nods to him on the jetty: "I heard it."

"He must be really out of it, yelling like that. Well, at least he's alive...." Officer Minot in the blue uniform frowns: "Jean, maybe something happened? He's in distress..."

"I shouldn't have taken a bath, the pheromone washed off!"

"I don't think..." He tries to explain, patting slightly: "I don't think it had anything to do with the ox-spray. It was just scared."

There is uncertainty in his phrasing.

It definitely had something to do with the ox-spray! It was repelled by you, as if it was scared.

"It did have something to do with the ox-spray!"

"Okay, but..." He shakes his head in disbelief. "I'm not an entomologist, okay? Neither was the para-scientist. Who knows? The only thing I'm sure of is..."

There's a flicker of a smile on his lips, like he can't believe what he's saying: "We saw it -- it was real."

"Okay, yes, you're probably right."

"Am I?" He shakes his head. "I don't know. I'm not an entomologist! Neither was the para-scientist. The only thing I'm sure of is..."

"It was definitely that. He didn't like me. I didn't get to take a single step."

"Like you?" He shakes his head in disbelief. "I'm not an entomologist, okay -- neither was the para-scientist. Who knows, maybe you're right. The only thing I'm sure of is..."

"I should have taken the pheromone from Morell!"

"Damn it! Damn it! I didn't get it right..." [Leave in rage.]

"Where did it go?" (Look north.) Can you see it?"

"No." He shakes his head. "It's gone for now, detective."

"How did it do that? Glide?"

"It appears the insect can walk on water. Like a water strider, you know. It's almost as fast..." He stops, short of breath. "Uncanny..."

"I think it went into the reeds there, on that islet..." (Point North.)

"Looks like it doesn't like to stay out in the open for long." The lieutenant squints where you're pointing.

"What in the name of god was that?"

"A stick insect of some sort. Pretending to be the reeds..." He shakes his head. "Has it been there the whole time?"

"Someone must have known about it though. Maybe there's some secret to approaching it? I have no idea... I've never heard of a species like that."

Neither have you. But you know who would -- a cryptozoologist!

A cryptozoologist? Oh god, there was one...

"The cryptozoologist! There was one in the bar. Maybe she knew something?"

"The paraplegic? Or the other one on the coast? They could have, yes..." He seems unsure.

We missed it, he thinks. We damn missed a spot. We should have... then the lieutenant collects himself.

"I never thought the damn cryptozoology would factor into this... Well, we know it's here now. We will find it again."

"The paraplegic? She could have, yes..." He seems unsure.

"Did you get it, did you get the picture?"

He shakes his head. In silence -- an expression on his face that you've never seen there before.

Like a little boy... for a moment he's unable to keep it together when he looks at the slip.

"You didn't get the picture?"

"No..." He shows you the white slip of photo paper. There's a rainbow of colour -- blue, white, yellow, and brown like a child's painting.

Even a wildlife photographer couldn't make out a familiar form, let alone a gigantic stick insect.

"I tried," he explains. "But it was moving too fast. And I didn't get the ampoule in right. And..." He gathers himself. "Dammit. I believe my eyes. It was there."

However hard you squint you can't make out anything recognizable, let alone a stick insect.

Say nothing, swallow it.

"It's just a blur," he says, looking at the slip of paper in his hand.

"Damn, we should have helped the cryptozoologists."

"Helped them?" He falls silent for a moment. "I don't see what more we could have done?"

"You're right."

"I'm not. We should have... it's my fault too." He looks across the water. The slip of photo paper still drying in his hand, hanging despondently for a second.

It's too late now.

He subdues the feeling. Dusts himself off and moves on. So should you. There will be other chances.