The Station, Part 35

I can’t obsess over these changes to my body, no matter what. If anything, they haven’t handicapped me, only caused brief delays in my progress. The itching isn’t so bad, just a minor distraction really. The nubs on my hands—they’ve gotten larger. They’re definitely fingers. Small protuberances that are rapidly catching up to the rest of the digits. I think I can even see the beginnings of fingernails. The rest of my fingers, even thinner now, are also shifting to accommodate the new digit. And I checked my feet not too long ago as well. I have a grand total of eight toes now. If you were to see my feet now, you’d think they had always been that way. What is happening to me?

I’ve been so focused on my body’s changes that I didn’t realize how far I’d gotten. My strides are longer, the walk actually is easier. I should be much more fatigued than I am. Perhaps the gravity is lighter here. But probably not. If anything, the gravity has fluctuated very little. I can tell that just based on my travels. I’ve never felt especially lighter or heavier no matter where I’ve gone. But lately, it’s been less of an effort. One could argue that I’m in better shape, but not this much better over so few days. The human body just doesn’t work that way. Human. The word doesn’t seem to apply 100% to me anymore. Maybe something just slightly under that. I’m not the same person I was when I first arrived here. I’m becoming something else.

It was the fruit I suspect. That single, perfect fruit that I had to eat. Like my life depended on it. I did something, introduced something into my system that is making its way around, setting up shop, and reconfiguring. It all seems so simple now. The Australopithecines and their guidance. Their leading me to the fruit tree. They were just doing a job. Incredible. So who signs their paycheck?

And the fruit. Well, what could that have actually been? Certainly not a natural occurrence, as if anything about this whale was natural. It was planted, grown, or whatever, specifically for me to be lead to. No, I’m not being egocentric about this at all. Just analytical. I’m putting the pieces together. The shoe fits so to speak. Think about it, the man apes could just as easily taken that fruit before me if they had wanted to. But no, they had no interest in it. And afterwards—that was just a slice of hell if I had ever experienced one. It was when I took that first bite, which was when I think I truly gave up something of myself. I signed a pact, and signed it in blood. All of my blood. And all of my body it seems. But they will not have my mind. That is off limits. That is where I have to draw the line. So, it’s acceptable that they have taken control of my physicality? No, not by a long shot. This is a violation, no bones about it. But I can’t do anything about it either. I just have to fight them with what’s left. And that leaves the real thing that makes me…me. Oh, and by the way, the skin behind my ears has hardened. Almost as hard as my skull. And when I touch these spots at the same time, I suddenly feel like all direction is lost. Not vertigo. It’s more like my covering them simultaneously blocks out the world and I’m no longer a part of it. It makes absolutely no sense, I know. And only when I block them at the same time. Experimenting, I noticed that covering just one with a hand, making contact with it, just makes me nauseous. What the fuck is that about. I really wish I had a mirror right now. But then again, do I really want to see what I’ve been becoming?