Date the Squid

by Elizabeth Hardage

"Why can't you do steroids like normal people, Brian? Human growth hormone, maybe a little andro? Why do you always pick up the weirdest shit on the Web?"

Davey's voice had assumed its little-brother whine, a whine which irritated Brian on his best days. This was not one of his best days. The tension headache at his temples had just hit adolescence and, from the pain-blurred corner of his left eye, Brian saw his supervisor approaching.

"Drop the 'tude, Davey, and let me know when I can drop off a sample for you. Boss is coming and he looks pissed."

"How 'bout you stop taking the stuff for a week and let me know if things improve?"

"I need to see you--" Brian's fingers tightened around the phone until the plastic squeaked.

"Oh, all right. Tonight after work. Seven. PowerHouse?. And bring a decent sample this time, I can't figure out dick from one pill."

Brian folded his cellphone just as his supervisor arrived. "Hey," he said in the most jocular tone he could manage, "how about the Mumbai office? Do they want the world from us or what?"

His boss' only move was to fold both arms over his chest. "It's a difficult relationship, yes, Brian. Which is why it's especially important for you to keep your cool, or at least manage your reactions on conference calls."

"Hey, I may get frustrated, but I can keep it under wraps--"

"Except that you aren't keeping it under wraps, Brian. You looked like a human stoplight in there. The Mumbai team thinks you're not in control of yourself, and I'm afraid they may be right."

The band of pain across Brian's temples started to contract. "Sir--if I may--"

"Brian," said his boss in a lower voice, "are you back on steroids? Andro? Synth testosterone?"

"Of course not!" Brian hadn't meant to shout, but the accusation stung. After the trouble he'd gone through to maintain his bodybuilding regimen without that sort of assistance--

"I know there's been a lot of pressure on you lately, Brian," his boss continued. "Perhaps more than you can handle right now. Why don't you take some time off. Two weeks or so--"

"You're putting me on leave? During the busiest time of the year? How soon before I get replaced? Normally you won't give me time off to sleep!"

The harder Brian tried to keep his voice down, the harder his boss stared at him, the way the guy in a teen slasher flick stares at the knife-handed villain. His boss' Adam's apple bobbed one, two, three times before allowing him to speak again.

"Brian, you need to go home now. You're lit up like a neon sign and your eyes are about to pop out of your head. If you aren't out of here in five minutes I'm calling Security. I'm also signing you up for the Anger Management seminar, and don't even think of coming back to work until you've completed it."

Damn damn damn. Brian's head felt like it was about to explode. The nerve of that bastard! But as he saw his boss' right hand drop to his beeper, Brian knew the man wasn't bluffing. Cursing under his breath, Brian gathered up his workout bag, briefcase and iPod, then strode towards the nearest exit. By the time he got down the stairs he was at a full run.

All the sooner to get home, get the damn pills, and take something for this evil headache. Then to leave a sample with Davey and meet Suze for dinner--damn!

Brian punched in her number and asked if he could postpone dinner by half an hour.

#

"Sweetheart, I'd love you even if you never won another bodybuilding competition." Suze ran one hand down his pectorals. She meant it to be comforting, but Brian wished she would wipe her hands first, especially since she ate sushi with her fingers. Suze had never figured out chopsticks.

Brian nodded and signaled for more toro. The fatty tuna was, as always, superb, but there was something wrong with the rice. Gummy, tasteless, tepid...ugh! "The rice is off tonight. Seriously off. It's disgusting."

Suze popped another California roll into her mouth, then licked her fingers. "Tastes fine to me."

"How can you tell, with the amount of wasabi you put on those things?"

"You're in an awfully bad mood tonight, Brian."

Brian flicked the last nasty bit of rice off of his tuna and swallowed the chunk of fish whole. Damn, he was hungry. What was taking the sushi chef so long? He glared at the far end of the bar, where the guy was fiddling with more nasty rice.

"Hold the rice, just give me the damn tuna!" Brian shouted, and slammed one fist into the bar for emphasis. Suze jumped in her seat, then turned slowly around to show the same pale, wide-eyed, frozen face that the sushi chef was giving him.

The sushi chef unfroze long enough to slice off several chunks of toro, slide them onto a tiny ceramic lilypad, and set them in front of Brian. The lilypad platter and the chef's hands were trembling.

"Brian," said Suze in a tiny voice, "I can see your temples throbbing. Actually see them."

"Good for you," said Brian between bites of tuna. What the hell was wrong with everyone? Did they have to freak out every time he got angry?

Then he saw the beginnings of tears in Suze's eyes, and the anger evaporated.

"Suze, sweetie, I didn't mean to go off on you. It's just that work's not going well, and Davey's getting all weird on me, and..." He let the words trail off and pulled her into his arms. She let out a little whimper and wound both hands into his hair. "Suze, baby, I'm sorry..."

She snuggled deeper into his arms, and Brian remembered why he'd started using that exotic Chinese formula instead of the usual 'roid derivatives. No negative sexual side effects, the makers had promised, and they had the studies to back them up, even the hint that the MegaBody? compound enhanced performance...

"Let's go to my place for dessert, huh?" Brian whispered in her ear. Suze giggled, let her arms slither down his torso...and jerked upright so fast that the top of her head clocked his jaw.

She held both hands in front of her and stared. Thick brown clumps of hair clung to her fingers.

Brian's hair.

"I think you should get help," she whispered, and sprang off of her barstool like a panicked rabbit.

This time Brian couldn't catch her.

#

"Brian? Davey here. Just finished running your samples through the lab. I've got bad news and bad news."

"That's not the way it goes, Davey." Brian ran one hand through his hair--damnit! another clump gone! and let himself fall into the armchair with a thud. He'd spent the last two hours alternately worrying about Suze--who wouldn't answer her phone--and wondering if he could keep his job. Yeah, the stuff he'd been taking wasn't exactly over-the-counter, but he'd made damn sure it was legal, and why had his hair picked this day to fall out?

"Which bad news do you want first?"

"Does it make a difference?" Brian reminded himself that, given his job situation, this would not be a good time to spike the phone.

"Okay, I'll go in order. Do you know what's in these supplements you've been taking?"

"It's all natural, I checked it out on the website. Ginseng, soy compounds, squid extract...those were the active ingredients. Bunch of other stuff, but I'm guessing it was filler."

Davey sighed, a sound even more irritating than his customary whine. "Not quite. It's got elements of those three, but they're not in any order God or the European Union would recognize."

The fatty tuna, which had been percolating peacefully just behind Brian's six-pack abs, regrouped and swam for the surface. "You're saying...GM?"

"Major Frankenfood. I'd hate to see what the plants looked like. You do know that this disqualifies you from certain bodybuilding competitions, don't you? 'Genetic tinkering' and all that?"

Brian couldn't help but curse, loudly.

"The worse news," said Davey, now in full professor mode, "is that giant squid DNA, like the giant squid, is freakin' aggressive. There are all sorts of interesting case studies from Asia, if you know where to look. Bioluminescence, hair loss, extreme light sensitivity. . .Do you ever read case studies, Brian, or do you just swallow the shit and hope for the best?"

The phone flew out of Brian's hand and shattered against the opposite wall. He got up, every limb shaking, and stumbled towards the workout room. He didn't stop for tape or gloves, just lurched towards the punching bag and slammed into it with everything he had, because he had to beat the crap out of something.

With every blow he saw fireflies beneath his skin, flashes of red and purple light to match the flexing of his muscles. The fluorescent light burned his eyes. He screwed them shut and lunged at the bag, punching and pounding until his arms went numb.

When he could no longer hold his arms parallel to the ground he let them fall and stumbled into bed.

#

The moment Brian opened his eyes, he felt like he'd been stabbed. Extreme sensitivity to light, no kidding, Davey. His arms ached and his hands throbbed, but he'd expected that. He even expected the patches of blood and torn skin across his knuckles; after the pounding he'd given the bag last night, he should be relieved he hadn't broken anything.

The anger was gone, leaving him hollow and cold inside. Swirls of dull blue and green, pulses of sadness and despair, dappled the skin of his arms. What kind of freak must he look like now, Brian wondered. Every time he put a hand to his head another clump of hair fell out.

He forced himself out of bed and down the hall to the bathroom. The rest of his supplements and last night's Kirin went down the toilet; Brian went into the tub and filled it with water as hot as he could stand.

For a long, black minute he considered putting his head underwater and breathing in deeply.

No, he reconsidered, with his luck he'd grown gills, or whatever the hell it was giant squid used. And while he'd always pushed the rules as far as they could go, and cut more than his share of corners, he had never, ever, bailed on anything. Not his bodybuilding, not his work, not Suze.

He wasn't going to bail on this, either. Even if it meant becoming Squid Man.

Brian got out and toweled off, cleaned and bandaged his knuckles, dressed, ascertained that his cell phone was dead, then put on sunglasses and a baseball cap and grabbed his keys.

Time to see if Suze had meant what she said.

#

Suze, like any prudent city girl, had three separate locks plus a chain on her apartment door. Three of the four were undone, but she kept the chain up. Her eyes, through the two-inch gap between door and frame, were narrow and frightened.

"Brian. You wouldn't stop calling." Her voice was rough and unsteady, as if it had been out of use. Or she'd spent all night crying.

"Last night was really, really bad, Suze. Please let me in. I need to talk."

"Why didn't you call first, let me know you were coming? Or did you break another phone?"

Brian took a long breath and willed the red sparks dancing under his skin to stop, just stop, damnit! He'd scared her enough as it was.

"I broke it because of something Davey said, if that helps." He tried to laugh. Suze didn't.

Suze blinked back tears and took a long, shuddering breath. "You know I love you, Brian. You know that. But I told you if you ever went back on 'roids, or any stuff that made you crazy, I'd break it off. And I meant it."

"It's not 'roids, Suze."

"Then what is it?" Her voice rose to a howl.

"I screwed up, Suze. Bad. Took something I thought was natural, safe, and messed myself up. Worse than 'roids, maybe." His hands started to shake; he balled up both fists and shoved them into his pockets. Maybe then Suze would stop staring at them. Or maybe she'd just stare at his bald head and fish-eyed stare, the colors moving beneath his skin. Maybe she'd call the police on him, and who could blame her? "I messed up, Suze, and I need help. Please."

Suze blinked again, and this time wiped away tears, but she undid the chain.

"No, don't turn on the kitchen light, this is perfect," said Brian. He came in, sat down on the loveseat, and removed the sunglasses and baseball cap.

"Brian. Oh my God. What happened?"

"Davey thinks the supplements I was taking are GM. Genetically modified. With squid DNA."

"Brian, you stupid--" Suze punched feebly at the air with one hand, then let out a sob. Gingerly, he stood up and put both arms around her.

"You're right," he murmured, "I was a stupid bastard, and now I'm paying for it. I just wish you didn't have to pay for it too."

He held her and patted her hair while she cried, a very long time. Torture for him, but about what he deserved.

Finally Suze backed away, buried her face in a wad of tissues, and croaked, "I can't help you."

Brian felt his stomach hit the floor. "Suze? Is it--are you--"

"No, no, you big musclehead, I'm not dumping you. I can be supportive and loving and all of that, but for this you need a doctor. And a really good lawyer."

His knees went weak with relief, but his brain, stupid thing, jumped right to the logistics of getting medical and legal help, and wiped out most of the relief within the minute. "A few days ago I'd have the doctor, but--" Ah, hell, he might as well tell Suze everything. She deserved the truth, and had probably figured it out already. "I'm not sure I have a job anymore, and good lawyers, you know, where's the money going to come from?"

"I have an idea," said Suze, "but you're not going to like it."

Brian sighed. "Go ahead. If I'd listened to you I wouldn't be in this mess."

#

"You know, I think the bioluminescence is lessening." That was Davey, trying to be helpful. Brian hadn't noticed any difference--as far as he could tell, the pulses of color beneath the skin of his arms were still waxed-tomato-bright--but he grunted in agreement. He wished, for the thousandth time, that Davey wouldn't talk to him until he finished a set.

With a last hiss of escaping breath, Brian lowered the barbell to its rack and punched the numbers into his workout tracker. Three sets of eight reps, two hundred and seventy-five pounds. Still fifty pounds short of what he'd benched before he went off of the supplements, and the slightest improvement over his last workout log. Brian longed to find something that would help him over this plateau, but Suze had been adamant. So had the lawyers. So had the scary little medigeek who took blood and tissues every Friday and swore he had connections at the top of the FDA. So Brian avoided anything in pill form, worked out every other day, and struggled with the idea that he'd never be the baddest boy in PowerHouse?, or any gym for that matter.

"Brought something for you," Davey blurted and thrust something colorful and glossy under Brian's nose. This wasn't the first time Davey had brought reading material, but it was usually some deadly gray medical journal, or another website with all the gory details of health supplements gone wrong.

Sparks swam up Brian's arms and before his eyes as he made out the cover page, and the title: Frankenbody: GM Supplements Left This Man Out to Sea. Even though he'd posed for the damned photo, he was still shocked to see how bright the color trails were on his arms and legs, and how, well, squidlike his hairless head and round, mostly-pupil eyes looked. The photo made him shudder.

Freak, freak, freak, said a voice in his head, one he still had trouble shutting out.

Davey, of course, was shuffling through the newsmagazine, his voice almost squeaking with excitement. "How'd they get the tech specs on the GM supplements? I talked to everybody in the supplement business, everybody, and I couldn't get half of this!"

When Brian's cellphone rang, he was profoundly grateful.

"Suze?"

"Hey, sweetie, the new Time's on the newsstands, have you had a chance to see it?"

Brian grimaced, grateful that his new phone didn't have a video option. "Davey brought one by. I've only seen the cover shot, though--he's too busy oohing and aahing over the tech data they got on the supplements."

"You don't like it. I can tell."

"That's a scary friggin' photo, Suze. Hell, it scares me. No telling what Joe Public will make of it."

"The article's not scary, Brian. It'll get you a lot of sympathy. Just read it."

Brian sighed and shook his head. He still couldn't get over how weird, how non-human, he looked on that magazine cover.

"Brian? Will you feel better if I take you out for dinner? At least you'll have somebody to complain to."

"You're willing to go public with a freak like me?"

"Brian, I love you, and I worry about you." And he could hear her love and concern, even through his crappy connection. "Please let me take you out."

He allowed himself a grim chuckle. "You're just saying that because you like squid."

"Brian!"

"Oh, all right, you can take me out to dinner. Or for dinner. Should I bring marinara sauce or garlic mayonnaise?"

Suze let out an exasperated "Aaaah!", then laughed with him. "Six o'clock, my place. And if you want to know what I'd like to have you with...silk boxers."

Brian chuckled and folded the phone.

"What'd she say?" asked Davey. "Your face is lit up like an Indy Christmas tree."

"No time, Davey, I've got a date." Brian toweled off the bench, stuffed his gear into his gym bag, and swiped the magazine out of Davey's hand. "Mind if I read this?"

"Of course not."

As he ran down the stairs and out onto the street, Brian found himself singing. Even a squid-man could have a good day.

END