JUST DESSERTS

Chapter 1

Every drop of liquid surrounding me was poison. I was susceptible. Even those of bright and beautiful colors held deep a secret of villainy and cruel addiction. They whirred through fine tubes, and dripped into vials and glass cauldrons, mixing to form whirlpool blends of every taste imaginable. Pipes gurgled, and pumps sneezed, sending tiny specks of the poison from one place to another, splitting and combining, right down to the atomic level and into mazes of molecules. Machines bleeped their successive proudly, and their failures without any loss of optimism, such were the cold and calculated hearts of machines. My hooves clapped on plastic flooring as I span to follow a funnel that propelled green fluid from one end of the laboratory to the next. It flowed into a grand glass silo, and from that, a massive swollen mixture dripped steadily into a line of cylinders chugging along a conveyor belt.

To the layman, it would mean nothing. To me, it was eight years of hair-tugging, tail-whipping work. Each molecule was a decision, and every morsel was a breakthrough. A long line of organizations and businesses would scurry past my laboratory, curious as to when the painstaking work will be done, full in the knowledge that I was on the verge of a scientific revolution.

I could change the course of Andalite history forever. Here, in this claustrophobic little laboratory on the outskirts of an unimportant Human settlement. The people of Texas had no idea what went on behind these walls. Their quaint lives were far removed from the possibilities I fiddled with in fourteen precise fingers.

I ran one hand over the final vial. It was large, perhaps the size of my own head, and made of reinforced steel that gave away nothing of its visible contents. Then I withdrew my hand. Why would I even consider risking a disturbance to the fluids stored inside?

No. I would analyze it all through the sensory devices that drew every factor to one central computer. That's where I would see my true successes. I simply had to look!

I scurried over to a raised podium in the center of it all. An artificial sun blazed down at me from the ceiling, and false clouds drifted blissfully before it. The virtual natural environment that the Earth-based laboratory was constructed with was politely juxtaposed by the flashing of three-dimensional holograms from my computer. It took its time to analyze what I'd collected over the last three months, surveying each and every molecule in that vial for its perfection… Its structure, its chirality, its reactiveness…

It needed to be perfect. It was going to be perfect.

I logged into a private folder, ready to compare the data to a proposed ideal that I'd set. My identification shot out around me in a delicious blue. I came face to face with myself…

Well-groomed head hair. Wild-eyed stalks atop my head. A slender appearance, devoid of the muscle of a warrior. My fur was undisturbed by everyday litter, and my color was a deep, dark blue.

My pupils were clothed in a ring of gold. That was my mother's trait, and most definitely her favorite. Just like I was.

Chutan-Palah-Niuken. I think the name fit well with my image. Below it all was a big green apple, an avatar that I chose deliberately after trying such a delicacy for the first time. Oh, how I craved another.

But dabbling in Human creations and habits was dangerous for an Andalite, as many had found out. Over the years I had grown restrained and routined. Two Human meals a day was enough for me. I would dine on the imported grass in my own body, and twice a day I would change to Human and indulge in one apple and a piece of buttered toast, before and after work. That way, I assured myself that I would never fall victim to the overpowering sensation that drove our people wild to the point of self-destructiveness. Quite literally, in some cases. Andalites in Human morphs had been known to explode over the years from excessive food consumption. My work could truly save lives!

I was well-beyond falling to such temptations. My routine made sure of that. Apple and toast. Apple and toast…

Skies above, I was hungry!

My own still-image eyes took away the alluring thoughts. Beside it, on a separate hologram, the data from the vial was beginning to shunt its way in, in the form of number strings.

Molecular content… suitable. Molecule chirality… correct…

I drew all four eyes to the statistics that were steadily popping up. Something was wrong. The numbers weren't what I was hoping for. The more they came in, the clearer it was that something had gone awry.

((Oh, taddlerods!)) I chastised it. ((This again? Stupid, stupid machine!))

I stomped with a huff to the vial and gave it a stern bonk with the bottom of a closed fist. It thudded lightly.

((Why must you be so radioactive?!)) I demanded of the mute enclosed liquids. ((You make me so… mad! I could just…))

My stalk eyes flashed around for a victim for my unrestrained anger! I saw a glass vial, and I grabbed for it. I squeezed hard, straining and grunting with rage-induced strength. The vial was a worthy adversary, I'd give it that.

Enough, I thought. I threw it with all my might to the ground, and it bounced harmlessly to the side. I approached the vial again. ((What am I getting wrong?! Just a little off, but this is useless!))

I must have activated Help. Her light, feminine voice flowed from the invisible speakers of the room. "Perhaps the ingredients are wrong, Chutan."

((Nonsense!)) I called back in disbelief. ((We were sure that we had the right ingredients…))

"The mixture has been a failure on precisely eight occasions, Chutan," She replied emotionlessly. "Might I suggest a reappraisal?"

I sighed. Computers were only rarely wrong. I folded my arms and rested them on the vial with a solitary snort of grumpiness. ((Maybe you're right, Help. It's gone wrong every time.))

"I agree, Chutan."

((Thank you, Help. I just… I just never thought finding the secret Andalite taste would be so… impossible!))

"Nothing's impossible, Chutan."

I turned a stalk eye to the ceiling, where I assumed her watchful mechanical eyes lay. ((Could you just come down here and make it for me?))

"I'm afraid I can't do that."

((And why not?))

"I do not have the technology capable of performing the necessary procedures."

I smiled wryly. ((So you're saying it's… impossible?))

She said nothing.

((Ha! I have proven you wrong yet again. Like I told you before, Help, an Andalite will always be smarter than a machine!))

"You're right, Chutan," She said. "I guess the task is indeed impossible, then."

((Oh…)) I huffed, slumping down over the vial. ((You could at least try giving me some optimism.))

Was it really impossible? We knew what molecules culminated to bring Humans taste… We also knew the molecular make-up of Andalite brains and grass transport vessels in the legs. There should be a way to grant us taste at a near-Human, non-fatal level! An absorbed mixture of molecules could grant us that… but they had to be perfect.

It would be a temporary addition, so to speak. The idea was to absorb this peculiar combination of chemicals, and they would bind to the limited taste receptacles within our legs. They would amplify the sensation, and cause the increase of taste signals to the brain… perhaps even add new taste sensations! The ability to taste pizza… fries… aubergines…

It would then disappear. It would last for as long as the molecules would remain bound, limiting the risk of an Andalite overindulging and eating themselves into a coma.

Perfect. I would be the scientist of the millennia!

I could dream. I could always dream. Some would say that I never dreamed of the ordinary. I was… different. Awkward, some would say. I enjoyed the uncommon, indulged in the obscure. Basically, I was always called either weird or obsessive. I found the latter funny. Admiring what is common is normal. Admiring what is uncommon is obsessive.

Despite my curiosities, I had my friends. Mostly lab friends. Thankfully, being a scientist was one of the more common things about me.

Chaddi was always the first to collect me, kicking and screaming from my workspace, usually just as I was on the verge of a breakthrough. The only exception about this occasion was that he was noticeably early.

((Chutan! Have I got some news for you?!)) He called, stomping like an eager overgrown child into my lab entrance.

I unstuck myself from my vial. ((What is it?)) I asked, probably sounding incredibly grumpy.

He didn't seem to notice. ((Dib-dib arranged us a party! It's all going down at Scoop tonight, dude!))

((Really?)) I said, my mood lifting at the news. ((You can't be serious. Dib-dib can't arrange a coherent sentence, never mind a party.))

((No, dude, I'm serious!)) Chaddi cheered. ((And you'll never guess what.))

((What?))

((You remember that groups of tails from Lab 3? The ones Lamedni said had backsides so big you could land Dome Ships on them?))

I gasped. ((No… He hasn't…))

Chaddi grew a stern look, implying that his words were true. ((He has.))

((You're lying. Surely, you're lying,)) I pressed. ((Big-nose Dib-dib got them to come?!))

He shirked. ((Dude, he hasn't even gotten them a drink yet. We aren't savages. Anyway, come on! We gotta get going!))

((But I…)) I looked back to my vial. I had clean-up to do… But I'd already felt my motivation fall away the moment I saw my results. I would feel no pleasure from finishing up, and knew that I could just continue tomorrow. In short: I couldn't be bothered. ((Okay, let's go.))

These nights were common. What could I say? We were young, single, and stupid… And my friends were far too ingrained into Human culture. That was probably already clear. I left the lab in a mess, destined to end the night in much the same condition.

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thomasheap

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Thank you,

Thomas Heap