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The Albino Menace!
In the pod chambers, there is a late release, a hideous creature that crawls its way out of the slime and gasps for air, confused. A horrible monster, its species known for its barbarity, spreading disease, and occasionally, for being cannibalistic.
It's a pestiferous beast, a hideous--and intelligent--monster and after getting a suit and its tangled fur cleaned up by Stacy, it quickly goes on the hunt.
There are smells all over, some of them very strange, and the overall smell of this...thing, the creature is in, but there is one it zeroes in on.
One scent.
Its prey.
It moves, running along the ground on all fours, jumping and clinging to outcroppings on the walls. It finds its prey in a large room full of people, looking at the little square in his hand, but despite the people present, the strangers there, it will not be denied.
It zeroes in...and then LEAPS!
It's a pestiferous beast, a hideous--and intelligent--monster and after getting a suit and its tangled fur cleaned up by Stacy, it quickly goes on the hunt.
There are smells all over, some of them very strange, and the overall smell of this...thing, the creature is in, but there is one it zeroes in on.
One scent.
Its prey.
It moves, running along the ground on all fours, jumping and clinging to outcroppings on the walls. It finds its prey in a large room full of people, looking at the little square in his hand, but despite the people present, the strangers there, it will not be denied.
It zeroes in...and then LEAPS!
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Brainy likes real food just as much as anybody else.
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Allen is, for the record, the worst Jew ever.
"C'mon." He waves Brainy over and starts walking in the direction of the Sensorium. "The Sensorium's a much nicer place to hang than here. Bring your monkey. I'll show you my house."
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He's smart!
"I'll stop psychoanalyzing you for a while, 'cause I wanna get to the point where we can be friends. All right?"
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"Stop that."
He mentions nothing about the making friends part. The idea that someone would want to randomly be his friend instead of just tolerating him with a measure of good humor, at first, is something of an alien concept.
He HAD friends, certainly, but they hadn't particularly liked him in the beginning.
Then again, he hadn't particularly liked them and had holed himself up in his lab with his experiments.
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Allen knows how to make friends. Hammer at their walls until they submit to your friend-ness.
"Besides, I'm willing to put money on my being the most intelligent person on this ship, next to you. Inevitably, we're going to be coworkers." Them and the Blue Ranger. Best abduction ever. "The most productive geniuses are the ones that are already pals. Plus I can't ALWAYS talk to Billy about alien physics."
Just most of the time.
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Yes, Brainy, surely if you keep asserting your intelligence it will impress someone and you'll get along fabulously.
"Regardless, I've worked with other scientists perfectly well without having anything more than a professional relationship. Scientists need not be 'pals' to work cooperatively."
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"Why are you attempting to form a friendship?" he asks, sounding slightly suspicious. "If you're hoping to glean information from the 31st century to improve your own scientific methods, I'm only going to relay information that's relevant to whatever we're working on."
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Brainy likes things in scientific terms, so Allen's gonna give them that way. He thinks for a second or two before answering.
"I want to become friends for a couple of reasons." He speaks thoughtfully and calmly as he walks. "First of all, I like making friends. I find the biochemical response to interaction with individuals with whom I am amenable on a personal level rewarding on physical and emotional levels. Second, socializing is beneficial to my species for reasons of mental and emotional health, and that's something I'm going to need in the event that my recently pregnant wife never arrives here, and I never see the love of my life again, and never get to meet my child."
He pauses a moment before continuing, and during the pause he has turned his gaze away from Brainy.
"Third, as I previously mentioned, I am very likely the second most intelligent person on this ship. And when I say that, I also mean that I think you and I have a few things in common. You're from a race of alien supergeniuses and you dwarf them all, right? I'm not an alien supergenius, but I am the most intelligent human being who has ever existed in my version of the universe. There is no one on my planet, not one person, who is anywhere near as intelligent as I am. And that's lonely. That's really lonely. Not to mention a little bit boring. So the chance to talk to someone who is not only as smart as me, but smarter, is about as exciting as I'm willing to bet you can imagine. I'm looking forward to learning something about how the world works from someone else, for a change."
He stops.
He could add more. Like how, having kept his intelligence a secret, he has come to define himself by things other than just his intellect. Brainy, on the other hand, is renowned for his intellect, and not much else. Allen is rapidly forming a theory that to be defined publicly by only one aspect of your humanity - or Coluanity - is personally very limiting, to the point that it can impair emotional wellbeing, as well as rendering the subject very lonely.
Above all things, Allen hates to see things that are broken.
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"I have no need for more friends. I have several back home," he says, "but I certainly understand the desire to communicate with someone on a higher intellectual level than yourself. I've yet to find someone to do it with, and you certainly aren't it, despite being smart for a human, but I suppose I can provide--after all, I'll need intellectually stimulating conversation from someone while on board, and you may perhaps be one of the few that can keep up."
That Billy guy is another prospect, as is that very animated man called the Doctor.
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Technically you don't have to announce codes to get a reaction from the Sensorium, but Allen likes to categorize things.
The gray, fleshy walls fly back, and Allen and Brainy are walking down a gravel path to the front door of a moderately sized house that is somewhere between a charming cottage and a log cabin. The air is cool, and smells of pine needles and fresh grass.
Allen opens the front door and wipes his feet on the front mat, out of sheer habit. Through the door is a living room, a comfortable affair with large windows and sliding glass doors, which provide a lovely view of the rolling hills and river that winds through the valley which begins in the backyard.
Allen strolls in. "Welcome to the Gentry House. Or a reasonable facsimile thereof."
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The actual setup of the house doesn't interest him much.
But the photographs...
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The mantelpiece is where all the human photographs are. The dark-skinned girl doesn't appear again, but the same girl with freckles shows up, about 10 years older, arm-in-arm with Allen in front of their house. There's a beautiful, professional portrait of them at their wedding. They're both covered in cake and making faces.
There's a scruffy-looking older man with a mustache like a broom, his arm around a middle-aged woman with twinkling eyes and a pantsuit Martha Stewart would covet like nobody's business. Allen and a teenage kid are in the same picture, the kid's smile a forced wince, like he'd much rather be off playing video games or sitting in a diner with his pals than posing for a portrait with his family. Allen's doing the enthusiasm a bit more convincingly.
There's a portrait of Irene again, with a dark-skinned woman who is probably her mother, Allen and his brother playing chess (Allen is winning), a fierce-looking blond woman in a martial arts stance, a teenage girl with too much eye makeup holding a conversation, apparently, with a potted plant. Lots of pictures.
The refrigerator shuts in the background, and Allen tosses a half-empty cardboard pizza box on the bar in the kitchen. "Nutritious sludge in cold pizza form. Ni-hi-hiiice. Want some?"
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Why is he bothering looking at this?
He grimaces at the suggestion of pizza. "Not particularly. I'm not overly fond of food that tastes like it's derived from Imskian hatch sealant."
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"I don't know what that means." Allen is already munching on his slice. "But there's also beef stew and leftover fried rice in the fridge, fruit's on top of the fridge, and the pantry's stocked. Help yourself."
He pops the top on a beer. "No alcohol for you, though."
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"Stacy, provide me turlish pâté."
Something that looks like cheesecake covered in green stuff appears in a little dish with something that looks almost sort of like a fork.
He takes his little dish and sits at the table, then delicately tucks in, his eyes briefly closing in something akin to bliss for a moment, before continuing eating, acting as if that didn't happen.
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Allen gnaws on his pizza crust happily. "The matrix is telling my brain this is whole wheat pizza crust. Haha."
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