I didn’t want to go on the research trip to Brazil.
Unfortunately, my graduate advisor had other ideas. He pushed me to go with the team and help collect data for the project. They needed a lot of help. I grudgingly acknowledged it was probably a good career move, since the project had a lot of big names attached to it. Hopefully I would get a research credit on the paper, whenever it was published.
Still, camping in the Pampas backcountry had not been my idea of a good time. The data collection was hot and dirty (investigating soybean pests), the ground at our campsite had been so hard and lumpy I’d barely gotten any sleep at all, and not to mention the greasy food had given me indigestion. Just thinking about the beef now still made me feel queasy.
I couldn’t wait to get home, even if it was just back to my grimy grad school apartment.
It was hot in my living room that evening. I’d contacted my landlord about the air conditioner several times with no response. The lukewarm air pumping out of the window unit barely even cooled the apartment.
I took a sip of my beer and squinted at my computer screen. A dozen or so rows of rectangles glared back at me, filled with incomprehensible numbers.
I’d been working on this data set for hours in preparation for an upcoming deadline. My stomach growled, but I refused to break my concentration by getting up and cooking a real dinner, instead snacking on cheese crackers and peanuts.
I pulled the numbers into a pivot table and created a rudimentary line graph in excel, just to get a preliminary look at the trends. An unusual correlation surprised me, and I bent closer to the screen.
A buzzing sound across the room made me glance up. I scanned the room, looking for the source, but the room had gone quiet. Dammit, now I’ve got bugs in here. I can’t wait to move out of this place. I sighed and glanced back down at the graph.
Then I heard it again.
I was quick enough that time to see the source of the buzzing. A large, winged insect had landed on the flickering TV screen.
“EW!” I shrieked. I jumped up from the table and searched for something I could use to smash it, finally grabbing a discarded flip flop by the door. I ran to the TV, gently squishing the bug.
Except there was no crunch.
I frowned. What?
I pulled the shoe back from the screen. There was no blob of bug goo, as I’d expected.
There wasn’t anything there at all.
What the hell. I’m losing it.
I flipped the shoe over. A single, iridescent wing stuck to the bottom. I carefully picked it off and held it up in front of my face. Its sheer, gossamer filaments were so delicate.
I could have stepped on that outside, I reasoned. Had to- there was no other evidence of a bug anywhere.
I didn’t want to think about it coming from anywhere else.
I shrugged it off to the long hours staring at the data set and general grad school fatigue. School was clearly impacting my mental health, and on top of that I was still worn out from my recent trip. I decided to call it an evening. I finished up my beer and watched a few episodes of TV before heading to bed.
I drifted off to sleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.
I found myself walking in an endless sea of tall grass. The more I pushed through the greenery, the more the blades sliced at my hands and face. The matted grass ensnared my feet. A black cloud of flies danced around my face, landing on my neck, my eyes, my mouth…
I sat upright in bed with a gasp. My sheets and pillow were covered with sweat.
“What the actual hell,” I muttered, before flopping back on my pillow. I took several careful, deep breaths to slow my heartbeat.
Of course. The bugs. The one in the living room must have triggered the memory.
On the trip, they’d been deep in a crop field when they stumbled across the nest.
No one was able to identify the insects right away, which meant it was likely a new species. Since they were actively eating the crops, however, another student and I were instructed to exterminate them. The chemical spray had sent the nest into a frenzy, sending up a cloud of irritated, black insects that clung to our neck and faces.
The experience left my skin crawling long after I’d brushed them all away.
I held up my wrist and looked at my Fitbit. 6:50 AM. If I got up now, I could work a few more hours before class. I hated that my brain automatically tried to squeeze in a bit more school work instead of a few more moments of sleep.
Reluctantly, I dragged myself out of bed and shuffled into the bathroom. As I was brushing my teeth, I inspected my face in the mirror. So pale, and now I had permanent dark circles under my eyes. I really was going to have to get more rest.
That’s when I noticed it.
The zit.
I gently probed the bump with my index finger. It felt very hard and painful.
I love popping zits. I know I’m not the only one. I gave the bump a tentative squeeze, my fingernails pushing deep around the perimeter of the bump.
A tiny ball of a hard, whitish substance erupted out of the zit. Ugh. Yes. I wiped it away and gently pressed a tissue to my chin.
I looked closer at the little zit ball, now laying on the sink edge. It was an elongated oval. It reminded me of something, although I couldn’t immediately place it.
I bent closer, frowning. Had I picked something up when I was in Brazil? It almost looked like..
I screamed. It couldn’t be.
The tiny egg on the sink pulsated, and began to crack.