Heretical Fishing

The mind of a lobster is both simple yet impossible to comprehend. Because of their ostensible lack of problem solving, many assume conscious thought to be beyond the average cricket’s capabilities. Which might seem true if one compared them to humans or other seemingly intelligent beings, but was objectively false nonetheless.
Even with a body the size of a finger, this particular runt of a cricket knew all too well how wondrous her living situation had become. She possessed flashes of memories of the time before stored in her nerve clusters—not that she was aware of said clusters, of course; she was a lobster. All she understood was that the before had consisted of retreat, hiding for her life, and scavenging what little sustenance could be found.
Every moment had been fraught. So, when some unknown attacker had scooped her up, she acknowledged her fate, a calm acceptance flooding her body as she was dragged to the surface. No sooner than she’d been trapped, however, she was freed once more, dropped into the den she now called home.
In the present, there were no more predators to avoid, lobster or otherwise. She could smell them nearby, their scent wafting over the sheer cliffs surrounding her. But with each passing day, she grew less afraid of their appearance, learning to trust the walls of her paradise. Caution was still observed, of course, which was why she’d dug a cave in the sand under said walls, large enough to conceal her entire body and then some.
There she rested, her antennae waving about in the currents in wait for
to happen. Her favorite moment. It arrived multiple times a day, each instance so exciting she forgot all about her need to hide—if only for as long as it took to drag the falling prize back to her dwelling.
Delicious, irresistible food. Sometimes it was firm and savory. Other times it was sweet, squishy, and released purple juice that colored the water purple, making her cave smell incredible until the next time food came from the heavens. She far preferred the sweet ones.
As wonderful as each day here was, today was even better. Rather than a single source of sweet juice, three of them drifted down the sand before her.
They were flawless. They called to her very soul. And they were all for her.
She was halfway through the second and already shifting to grab the third when a flash of color caught her eye. The hint of orange was there only a moment, and she scooted backwards, hoping it had just been her imagination, her cave suddenly feeling too small to contain her. But then the color appeared again. There could be no doubt.
A massive claw bent over the lip of her sheer walls. A second followed. The lobster’s antennae came next, pursued by the rest of it, the crustacean tumbling over the precipice in its rush. She went incredibly still, hoping it would eat the food and leave.
The invading creature’s legs caught hold of the lower section of wall and raced forward, barreling for the meal it had clearly come for. With the faintest of movements, she started eating the rest of her sweet fruit, partly to destroy as much of its scent as possible, but mostly in defiance. How
this young male invade her paradise—her
She recognized his odor. He had pursued her once in the before, chasing her until she wedged herself in a hole only she could fit within. His claws, almost twice the size of hers, had reached again and again into that crevice. When he eventually left, it wasn’t out of compassion. Food had arrived nearby. It was her least-favorite variety, salty and firm, yet she would have sacrificed a limb for a few bites. Instead, she’d needed to find a new hiding place, knowing her tormenter would return when next he grew hungry.
Something occurred to her in that moment, her thoughts coming clearer and concise. If spoken in English, the sentiment could roughly be translated to: What a bunch of
. In the before, there had been too many other lobsters to count. Despite their number, they’d left each other alone, only ever ganging up on
.
Things were peaceful if their stomachs were full. Otherwise? The second they saw her up close and realized the disparity in their size, they chased like starved creatures, not concealing their intent.
Back in the present, she looked at the invading lobster, seeing the same ceaseless gait and unerring intensity it had used when chasing her. That’s all she had ever been to him. Food. She was his sibling, yet he saw her as nothing more than a snack. For the crime of not representing a credible threat, she’d earned a death sentence. Close as he now was, she could see that he’d grown even larger than before. He had been eating well…
Before she knew what she was doing, she moved, her antennae leading the charge out of her den. He saw her coming, slowed a moment, then raced the last few steps to the spherical fruit. His pincers ripped and tore, pulling a large section off that he then shoved into his undulating mouth. Worse, he started retreating with it, dragging her prize farther away.
Incensed, she raced forward. She cared not for the threat he presented. Her rage demanded retribution. The ground blurred past, and as she got closer, the analytical part of her mind registered that he wasn’t so big after all. His snippers, so mighty from afar, seemed smaller than her own…
He never changed his course of action. Even when she was almost upon him, he slowly retreated, most of his awareness focused on shoveling as much of
food into
mouth as possible. Her powerful claws, fully cocked, shot forward.
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He must have assumed she was aiming for the berry—she wasn’t.
All too late, his muscular tail tensed, fibres preparing to contract and send him rocketing away.
A cloud of grit billowed up, and as the grains slowly drifted back to the sandy floor, so too did both halves of his body. She reached out tentatively, picking one up, her antennae smelling its flavor. Her invader was certainly edible. She considered consuming him, her roiling emotions urging her toward such action. There would be justice in that…
But no. She wouldn’t stoop to his and the rest of her kin’s level. She made to drop him and return to her berry—which she now somehow knew her sweet treats were called—but she felt a pulse come from the larger half of her felled brother. Leaning closer, curiosity blossoming, she touched a small colorless orb. It was only as large as a tiny pebble, yet contained an inordinate amount of strength.
It was in the same spot, centered below his thorax, that her own rage had seemed to originate. Her orb wanted to devour his. N
to feel its power. She didn’t fight the compulsion.
It tasted of nothing, then everything grew warm. She shook as the vitality became her own, lost to the sensations until a series of terrible sounds arrived—the scrape of carapaced legs on sheer rock.
She gazed up just as the first of them crested the walls of her paradise. Her brethren, the spineless scavengers that they were, had smelled their bisected brother and come to feast.
She stood as tall and proud as a cricket reasonably could. She’d not give up a single inch of ground—which was an odd notion for a regular lobster to hold considering their general lack of knowledge regarding measurement systems. But she had more important things to worry about right now.
she thought, spreading her snippers wide.
Technical Officer Theodore Roosevelt was… elsewhere. He knew not what his mind or body were, but he was all too happy following the daydream, his imaginary limbs at ease as they padded over loamy earth and cool grass. Verdant trees surrounded him, another source of pleasant relaxation, but he barely noticed them—he’d just caught the smell of something far more intoxication.
Honey.
Its scent was an almost physical thing. He imagined it as a yellow stream, opaque and bright and all-encompassing. His nose moved incessantly, twitching in all directions to follow the trail of golden goodness drawing him along. It grew stronger with each trunk he passed. It—
.
A tree crashed to the side. He must have bumped it with his sturdy rump. He ignored it.
A soft buzz murmured out through the forest, and Teddy’s mouth watered. If this was in the waking world, he wouldn’t dare harm innocent insects. Those were the actions of the unawakened bear he once was. But in this vivid dream…? No creatures would be harmed. He could indulge to his heart’s content.
His salivary glands started working overtime in anticipation of the feast to come.
Another tree fell. Teddy didn’t care. He sprinted through the many trunks, embracing his animalistic instincts. He was on the hunt.
He neither cared nor really noticed the odd sound each obliterated tree made in his wake. His hackles shivered. A part of him dreamed of a rival mammal being there in his path. Of his fangs and claws and brutal strength forcing the other away, leaving Teddy alone to tear into the beehive.
Branched rained down, leaves, sticks, splinters bouncing off the forest floor.
.
.
And there it was. A horde of drones had surrounded their home. He could sense chi coming from them. They were spirit beasts. A hive mind, much like the Buzzy Boys, except far weaker. Teddy could just ignore them as he devoured their hard work. Their pathetic stingers wouldn’t be able to puncture his thick hide.
He lowered his head, huffing and snorting, warning them to flee. They vibrated in response, their cores sending out a wave of essence. Teddy exploded forward, his mighty paw descending to pulverise dozens of them in a declaration of war.
But his limb found resistance, freezing in place as his claws dug into something stronger than stone. They were no mirage. Had he thought this was a dream…? These upstart bugs stood between him and what he’d
. They—
!
A wave of potent power struck Teddy. He whirled, eyes opening, the verdant scene replaced by uniform bricks, lacquered wood and…
? It sloshed under him, pooling in the giant grooves his deadly claws had carved into the church’s floor before becoming stuck. The liquid was clear at first, but then sand, gravel, and glittering shards of glass flowed by.
The crickets. Their tank. It had broken.
Two of said crickets came to a stop right under him—except it wasn’t two at all. Both halves of the single lobster lay lifeless, its tiny body having been sliced right down the center. Everything went still. Had he done this? Teddy followed the trail of carnage, bile rising in his throat as his eyes passed over the dozens of dispatched lobsters, each a creature he’d been charged with protecting.
A trickle of water dribbled down a wooden frame. His gaze tracked it back to the shattered corner it spilled from, finding as many murdered crickets within the tank as without. They’d become trapped in the isolating walls of stone crafted to protect the runt—the undersized creature he’d identified with, ensuring to give her plenty of food as a result. Especially passiona berries. They were her favorite.
One of the crickets stirred. What he thought for a moment was an entire body was only a claw of the adolescent crustacean. How had she gotten so large? Her limb picked up one half of a murdered pod-mate, plucked something from its abdomen, and raised the orb of power to her mouth.
Layers of realization struck Teddy, each adding a boulder to a tomb of his own creation. Before he could fully comprehend the consequences of his actions, a wall of light and euphoria shone out from the lobster.
He had let them down. He’d failed them. Each slain creature was a result of his inattention, and the undersized female he identified with had become a kin-slayer, her soul burdened forevermore.
Still he shivered in ecstasy as the light of ascension consumed him, filling his body with rapturous elation he didn’t deserve.
Teddy roared.