Member-only story
A Broken Butterfly
An off-world tale of chaos and equilibrium
Mitch hawks a gob of phlegm onto the dirt. Green on brown, like his camo pants. He lifts a work-booted foot, more fastidiously and gingerly than you would have thought possible for such a hulk.
“Yeuurrgghh! Goddamn bugs all over this maggoty planet.”
“Dad!” chides Mol, following a couple of steps behind on his tour of the new compound, “It’s just a little butterfly!”
“Critters with wings. Slimy bugs. Can’t stand ‘em.”
He looks down in disgust at his own polished boot, sees the blackened, bowled reflection of his bearded, jowly face, and marches towards the new pithead to check the crushing gear.
Somewhere near the planetary equator, the ground quivers, shivers, squirms on itself to scratch an itch flashed up from nerves running through its marrow. The fecund earth sweats out a glob of sap to seal and soothe the wound.
It coalesces, swells and shapes itself into an unfamiliar form. Legs, torso, arms. A bulbous head. A bearded, jowly face. The sentient gel begins its destined journey polewards to meet the source of the suffering.
The shuttle thrusters scorch four overlapping circles on the makeshift strip alongside the compound, driving out charred dust from beneath…
