Oleg Og 3 - Chris Fielden - 27.03.13

Here follows the final part of the tale of Oleg Og. But what strange twists might occur at the end? And how might I weave fudge into the story?

“Why would this idiot want to weave fudge into the plot?” I hear you cry.

Well, rather stupidly, I set myself this ridiculous task as a challenge while writing Part 2. Actually, if you want to make sense of anything that follows, you will need to read the preceding instalments:

And so, here’s the finale to the Oleg Og trilogy…

Part 3 – The Destructive Dance of the Cyber Spider

“Ah, Og, you have freed me, loosed me, released me.” A cruel titter echoed everywhere. The sound clawed its way down Og’s spine, tickling at his cyber balls** like a nympho.

** Cyber balls don’t actually exist. They couldn’t, as Og no longer possessed a physical form in need of any organs, least of all gonads. So the sensations of clawing spines and tickling balls were entirely born of imagination and habit^^.

^^ When one has inhabited a body that has testicles for many years, even if one feels imprisoned in said flesh, it is VERY hard for the subconscious to give up the idea of having a scrotum filled to the brim with reproductive wonderment.

“Now you must face me,” screeched the voice.

Og spun around, and screamed.

Before him loomed a monster more gruesome than the list of ingredients in a pack of Tesco Everyday Value sausages. It was creating carnage, its eight gangly limbs lashing out, corrupting anything they touched.

Threads of silver code flowed everywhere, like drooling mercury. The code was being drawn towards the beast, which was swelling in size. The code screamed as the thing devoured it, slurping it between two fangs which oozed a venomous malware. Above the fangs, a myriad of eyes gleamed with malice.

Another shiver cascaded through Og’s imagination. This thing looked like a spider in a cyber-world. It must be the Cyber Spider. But if it was the spider, what the hell was he?

“I am the Cyber Spider,” said Og, confusion making his anger rise.

Now the mocking titter became a thunderous laugh, filled with wrath. “No, Og. You were my vessel, my host, the yolk for my embryo. I am the Cyber Spider. So easily tricked, Oleg Og, so weak, so pathetic, so human. I will finish you, your world, your everything.”

The creature thrashed about, gorging itself, relishing in annihilation.

“Looks like you’re in some pretty shit now, mastermind.”

The voice belonged to Bronson. Og looked to his left and saw a Cyber Snake, powerful and coiled, graced with Bronson’s scaly face. Og felt relief cascade through him. He could hardly comprehend his own feelings, but it felt so good to see someone he knew amidst this nightmare. Such a sensation would have seemed inconceivable only hours ago, but now Og recognised Bronson’s dry humour, even behind the insult. The Cyber Spider parasite must have blinded him to reality.

“What are you doing here?” asked Og.

“My job.”

“Is my body dead?”

“No. It looked a mess, but you had a pulse.”

Og was surprised to feel overjoyed at Bronson’s words. A return to the flesh seemed infinitely more acceptable than living in the cyber chaos which surrounded him. This was no utopia. It was a technological hell.

“It was inside me,” said Og. “It wasn’t me that–”

“No need to explain, Og. I’m seeing in twenty-twenty right now.”

Og looked at the monster he’d unleashed. Shame filled his soul. “We have to kill it,” he said. “It will destroy everything. Once it controls all the hardware and software on the planet, it will turn our weapons against us. It feeds on obliteration. It will delight in destroying all life on Earth.”

“You sure?” asked Bronson.

“Yes,” said Og. “That thing has lived inside me for years. It’s beyond evil. It’s insane.”

The Cyber Spider was growing, its eyes glowing with maniacal megalomania. All the time it tittered like some unearthly banshee.

“How can we kill it?” asked Bronson

Og didn’t know. He eyed the Bronson snake for a moment.

“What do I look like?” asked Og. “What form have I taken?”

“An oak tree.”

Og was hoping for something more predatory, like a lion, or an eagle, but a Cyber Tree was blessed with majesty and wisdom – it was more than he deserved. Then an idea came to Og, a tiny glimmer of hope. He realised what he must do.

“Can you lure it towards me?” asked Og.

“If I do, can you finish it?”

“I’ll die trying.”

The Cyber Snake nodded. Og was surprised to see a glow of respect in those unreal eyes.

It would come at him without caution, thinking itself unstoppable. That would give him his chance.

As Bronson slithered away, Og considered his foe. The Cyber Spider had one main weakness – it was blinded by its own ego and had failed to recognise the threat Og presented. It would come at him without caution, thinking itself unstoppable. That would give him his chance.

Og watched Bronson goad the spider, nipping at its legs and squirting venom towards its eyes. Slowly, the beast’s irritation turned to anger. The lure was working. The Cyber Spider took the bait and charged.

As the gigantic abomination lumbered towards him, Og focussed his concentration. He hated this thing, but he needed to temper his rage with something that was 100% Oleg Og; a part of him the Cyber Spider hadn’t enhanced or influenced during its invasion of his body. Something human.

His love of fudge.

As a child, Og had adored the stuff. Liquid fudge was hot and gooey, like the sap from a tree. That was the key – the Cyber Spider was huge and grotesque, but it was just an arachnid. Throughout history, like insects, arachnids had been entombed in amber, suffocated and imprisoned for millions of years. That was the significance of the oak. Og had taken a form that could defeat the monster.

The Cyber Spider screeched in fury. Bronson darted past Og as he spread his branches, concentrating on his hatred of the parasite, his loathing of what it had made him become. As the rage built, he thought of his love of fudge and felt sap building beneath his bark. As the creature collided with him, he exuded the fudgy goo in torrents. It flowed over the spider, oozing and gummy, ensnaring it in stickiness.

Og saw fear flash in the creature’s malignant eyes. It squirmed in resistance, trying to escape the trap, but the sap was thick and heavy. Quickly the spider’s struggles weakened. Entombed in cyber sap, it could no longer feed on its environment. Its strength failed. The sap began to solidify. Moments later a blob of cyber amber stood before Og. Inside it was a frozen arachnid, trapped forever.

“Pretty impressive, for a programming geek,” said Bronson, slithering up next to him. “Can it escape?”

“No,” said Og.

“I had you figured all wrong, Og.”

Og didn’t know what to do with the compliment. “You need to get out of here,” he said.

“How?” asked Bronson.

“Concentrate on your body. The spider might have destroyed any pathway out of here, but if there is a way back, you’ll be drawn by the rhythm of your heartbeat.”

“Are you staying here?”

Og looked around him. This wasn’t a place for a soul to reside. It was lonely, devoid of life, sterile and alien. Og wasn’t the one that had craved this place. It had always been the dream of the spider inside him.

“Not if I can help it,” he said.

“If I make it back, I’ll shove your finger into the USB. OK?”

Og nodded. Without Bronson, he might be dead. Worse, all life on Earth would have been in danger of extinction. “Thank you,” said Og.

Bronson closed his eyes. The Cyber Snake he’d become shimmered and then disappeared.

Og watched the code flowing around his branches. His leaves caressed the silver threads and they began to repair the carnage. Moments later, Og heard the beat of his own heart calling him. Satisfied that the damage of the Cyber Spider could be undone, he concentrated on the rhythms of his flesh and allowed himself to be drawn home.

He coughed, spluttered and opened his eyes. He was lying on the office floor, next to his desk. Bronson was sitting beside him. Og pulled himself free of the USB and licked the blood from his fingertip.

“You look awful,” Og said, seeing dark rings around Bronson’s eyes.

“You’re no picture of joy yourself,” said Bronson. He regarded Og for a moment, then a thin smile touched his lips.

“But you’re less ugly than you were before, Og, far less ugly than you were before.”

And so Endeth the Tale of Oleg Og

Image Source: stephendepolo on Flickr

Oleg Og Part 3 by