She tries to pull away, but she’s not quitestrong enough to escape my iron grip. I’m surprised that my handsare so strong. “What... what the fuck are you talkin’ about? Areyou crazy? Let me go!”She’s still afraid. I understand. She’s young,and is having trouble letting go. I release her, and she stumblesback. “Don’t worry. You’ll get it soon. And when you do, I’llbe here. C’mon back when you’re ready to talk.” I sit downagain.The girl shakes her head. She doesn’t seem toknow whether she should run off, attack me or curl up into a ball andwill herself out of existence. “You’re fucking crazy.” Sheflees.I lean back and smile. One of my teeth tottersunsteadily, though it doesn’t fall out. I’m glad, because I stillneed them to spread the word. Keeping utterly still – I lovestillness, it’s so natural – I watch a butterfly spread its wingsin front of the sun.Hours pass. Countless people walk by my bench. Iwant to lunge at all of them, but my willpower keeps me in check.This isn’t the place, this isn’t the time. I only convert atnight, where authority can’t find me, can’t shake a finger at mygood deeds. I feel like Batman. It’s awesome.As dusk is settling in and the sun is fading atthe edges of the horizon, bedding down amidst the tall buildings ofthe central city, the girl comes back. She looks even paler, and nowwalks with the same swaying strut as me. She’s calm, and that’sgood.I pat the bench beside me. She sits and watchesthe sun go down with me. We’re both slumped in drunken poses, andthat’s okay too.
“I almost got arrested,” she says. “Istopped in the middle of an intersection to stare at a rock.”“I’m glad.” I squeeze her hand. Her flesh issoft, though I can feel it stretching. In a few days she’ll be likeme, her skin so tight it’ll feel like it can’t bend withoutbreaking. “What did you learn?”She pauses at that, thinking. She’s slowed down.That’s very good. “I guess... I learned that I didn’t have tolearn.” She turns to me, her head lolling against the back of thebench. “It was fuckin’ awesome.”I nod. “Good for you. Did you bite anyone?”“I tried. I tried to bite the cop. He was a big,fat fucker.” She laughs; I notice patches of purple on her tongue.“Coulda stood to lose a bit of his gut. I woulda been doing him afavour.”“You would. But I’d wait until night. Then wewon’t get in trouble for doing good.”“It is good, isn’t it?” She squeezes myhand, now, her eyes sincere. “You. I think I remember you. You bitme the other day, at the club.”“Yes.”She lays her head on my shoulder. “Thanks. Ifeel like you’ve really changed my life.”“I’m glad.” I run my fingers through herhair. More than a few strands fall out, pooling in her lap. “We’renot alone, either. I’ve been working hard to tell people the truth,and you... you’re proof that they’re ready to listen.”We sit in silence for a while, admiring theshadows stretching across the park. It’s such a simple thing,watching, and so wonderful. I could sit on this bench until it fadesto dust, a thousand years from now, and not get bored.
Eventually she speaks up. “You’re the onlyperson I’ve understood all day. How the fuck are we supposed tofind other people like us? I mean, I guess we’ll stumble on ‘emeventually, but... ”I put a finger to her lips. I nearly fumble andjam it into her eye. If there’s one thing I miss, it’scoordination. “Shh. Remember, patience. We’re trying to get awayfrom being too fast, right? Letting life pass us by? I don’t wantto miss anything by focusing on details. We have to let the goodnesscome to us. Don’t forget what I told you.”I never really told her all this. She understands,however. I communicated all the important stuff when I bit her neck.“What do we do in the meantime? Have sex or somethin’?”I sigh. Still impatient. She’ll learn. I reachinto my pocket and pull out the only thing I’ve been keeping withme: my phone. I ponderously flick it on and, after several longminutes of concentration and effort – the girl helps, as she stillunderstands some of the fast language – I navigate to the smallgroup I’ve made on a social network. It’s called ‘TruthSeekers, Find What You Crave in These Words!’, and below the titleis a brief outline of my philosophy. And people have responded. Unfortunately, I don’tunderstand what they’re saying, so I must conclude that they’rethe uninitiated. They’re probably mocking what they see asgobbledygook. There are a few links included that lead to pornographyand ads. Nothing of substance. But understanding will come, andsooner or later someone will post something that I can read.“Huh.” She skims the page with shaky hands,her breathing shallow and excited. “This is golden. I fuckin’love it. But you don’t know how to advertise, do you?”I shrug. I’ve always looked at the socialrevolution as a passing fancy. I love computers, and keep mine up todate, but I’ve never really wanted to talk to anyone online. Thisis especially true now, as a bite is so much more personal andefficient... but I understand the need for getting the word out tothose I can’t touch.
She commandeers my phone for a while. I don’tpay much attention. I’m too interested in a moth fluttering at anearby lamp. Eventually she elbows me, however, and when I look at myphone I see that she’s spread the word over a myriad of socialnetworks. I guess Goths are well connected in the digital world.“Somebody will see. Somebody will get you. Ifuckin’ know it.” Now she looks uncertain again, out of herelement. Lost and in need of guidance. “But what will you do whenyou get more people? What will we do?”There’s only one answer for that. It comeseasily to my lips. “We’ll have a meeting, of course.”Chapter 4I’ve never lived with a girl before, much lessone thirteen years my junior. But by the end of the first night thegirl is living with me, and we’re formulating plans for spreadingmy philosophy.Her name is Sophie. She has a last name, too, butI forget it almost immediately. I also decide that I won’t call heranything, and she agrees. Names are for chumps. When the world ishappy, nobody will need a name. Names separate people from the whole,and if there’s one thing I want to do it’s bring everybodytogether under a big, happy blanket.I’ve been banned from three nightclubs since Ibegan my crusade, so I’ve been reduced to prowling the streets,biting people at random. Hobos are my converts of choice, as they’reusually asleep when I approach and don’t put up much of a fuss. The girl, though, she’s a gem. With some makeupfilched from her house she can maintain her old appearance, and shehas no trouble getting into nightclubs and nipping dozens of guys anight. I probably would have found her attractive in my old life, aswell, though now I’m indifferent. She’s happy with her newpurpose, and I’m happy for her. I’ve at least doubled the amountof truly happy people in the world.
But there are more. A week after I began spreadingthe word, I’ve received legible responses to my group. More than adozen, in fact, all of them desperate to learn. They’re confused,but they’ll come to understanding. I just need to unite them undera common banner, and for that I need to hold a meeting.I choose a banquet hall a few blocks from myapartment to stage my speech. There are noticeably fewer people inthe streets at night these days, and far more police cars. I’m eyedsuspiciously on numerous occasions, but the cops never leave theircars. Understandable: people fear what they don’t get.The proprietor of the meeting hall isn’t willingto let me use his venue for free. In fact, he tries to ward me offwith a baseball bat. It thumps dully off my head, and I don’t paythe injury any attention. As far as I know, there isn’t a wound. Ifall upon the man, who’s a too fat to get away from even myshambling steps, and bite him enough times that he couldn’t fail tounderstand the message.He tastes so good. The itch in my mouth is gettingharder to resist. Soon I won’t be able to hold back. But that’s agood thing, as my movement is building in momentum anyway. The zealto convert is strong, and I’ve never felt more sure, more right,about what I’m doing.I use the man’s computer to announce a meetingthe next night, inviting everyone to join, telling them to bite theirfriends and bring them along. I supply detailed instructions on howto explain my doctrine to the hopeless savages of mankind. Given thatthe number of followers of my group swells within hours of thismessage to four times its original size, I think people arelistening.The girl returns, looking better than ever. Shehas friends, three males, all bitten. I practice preaching to them,and we all watch a flickering light in the meeting hall’s bathroom.It’s manmade, but we don’t discriminate. Even manmade objects canbe beautiful, and we should appreciate this piece of glass hardwarewhile it lasts. When my revolution is through every light on theplanet will go out, save the flicker of a candle and the luminous eyeof the sun.