The Nature of Predators - Becoming a Predator (4/10)

First | Prev | Next 

Memory transcription subject: Narlem, Krakotl Exterminator Fleet Comms Technician

Date [standardized human time]: October 2, 2136

My goal had been to document the full extent of Terran instincts when I returned to the apartment, but I was exhausted from the emotional strain I’d placed on the body of a predator that wasn’t used to indulging feelings. The holopad needed to charge regardless, so I decided to attempt to get some sleep. It had been an evening’s slumber that morphed me into this creature, so perhaps I’d revert back to my Krakotl form if I could get some shut-eye. A combination of factors made it difficult to doze off. I was plagued by worries over whether this situation could be permanent, physical stimuli didn’t align with my mental conception of self, and worst of all, the loudening cries of my stomach rendered it impossible to fall into a restful state.

I tossed and turned for hours attempting to get comfortable, until darkness had taken the skies of Earth. When I finally directed my thoughts away from the unfortunate predator-body situation, they landed on the gaping chasm in my belly…which made it more uncomfortable. Couldn’t I have a few hours of reprieve from this reality, to refresh my willpower? At this point, it wasn’t just distracting; it was painful, and awful growling sounds cropped up on repeat. My hands tugged the blankets tighter over my head, and by some miracle, I eventually drifted into slumber.

That mercy was short-lived, as a stabbing pain in my gut woke me. I was quite disappointed to still look down at a human form with predator senses, rather than waking on my ship and laughing at a terrible nightmare. Judging by the color of the sky, the hunger pangs interrupted my sleep cycle after a few hours. My hand massaged my stomach with displeasure, and with a groan, I conceded defeat. There was no way I could fall back asleep in a timely fashion, plus the shut-eye I’d gotten was clearly low-quality. Wasn’t it enough that I was starving, without having to stumble around sleep-deprived too? No wonder these beasts couldn’t hold out against bloodlust for an entire lifetime.

These millions of humans don’t know anything other than this. I hate to go back on my promise not to give them any sympathy, but I feel a little bad for them. No sapient deserves to be born like this.

I supposed if I was this ravenous and worn down, it would be the perfect opportunity to document my experiences for Krakotl researchers. Coming up with a plan to craft a dossier, and getting them to trust what looked like predator-sourced information, was another story. Every herbivore knew that humans were deceivers, so it would be justified to assume that I had an ulterior motive for this painstakingly drafted research. My legs slung out of bed, with my maw parting in a yawn; the grogginess hadn’t vacated my system. I removed the holopad from the docking station, and waited as the camera scanned my horrific features.

“Okay. Now that you’re losing your mind to hunger, time to…look up pictures of prey animals, and then blood.” The nerves had my stomach somersaulting, as I found my way to the default search screen. “Need to write something down to ground myself, if the fog makes me dissociate into a…primal state of being.”

I found a blank sheet of paper, which would function as my notepad, assuming I could maintain control under a flood of blinding instincts drowning all sense and thoughts. I drew a terrified intake of breath, worried that Narlem could be lost forever in the fog. My hands penned out the harsh human lexicon of their own accord, rather the civilized Krakotl alphabet. Your name is Narlem. You are a Krakotl, not a predator. Killing living beings is reprehensible. You’re sticking dead carcasses, flesh from an animal, in your mouth—NOT FOOD. READ THIS, NOT FOOD. Those are innocent creatures that deserve to live their lives.

I set the pen down, and before I could talk myself out of completing my duty to my homeworld, I punched the words “pictures of prey animals” into the search box. My binocular eyes inspected the millions of results that cascaded down my screen, though I didn’t trust the signals they’d send to my brain. Several of the results had vicious predators chasing or pouncing on the innocent herbivores, though curiously, none were humans. A shudder rippled down my spine, but I didn’t feel a sudden urge to drink the animals’ blood from their appearance. Deciding to press my luck even further, I clicked on a single result of a tiny, floppy-eared creature with curved hindlegs; the subtext read “Rabbit.”

I focused my pupils on its defenseless form, and took inventory of what was going through my human bloodstream. There was an emotion that I didn’t recognize, causing a strange levity in the region of my heart; my gaze was drawn to the rabbit’s beady eyes. The intrusive thought leapt through my brain, wondering how soft its fur would be to my hands. The prey animal was stirring stronger assessments of cuteness than Krakotl hatchlings had before. It was difficult to think of anything other than the overwhelming emotion of how adorable the creature was, even distracting me from the hunger pangs for a moment. What the fuck was going on? This was some…totally out-of-proportion nurturing instinct?

“That’s not right, and it’s definitely not my holdover Krakotl feelings. Shit, I can’t write this down. How do I explain it, and who would believe it?” I hissed.

My fingers flew across the keyboard at lightning speed, typing a question in search of an answer. “Why do humans think animals are cute?” I queried. Multiple scientific articles stated the feeling of animal adorability as some ubiquitous trait across the hominid species, rather than a defect. The consensus seemed to be that Terrans had a powerful nurturing instinct toward their babies, and that certain animal features garnered that reaction due to generations of natural selection. I blinked in disbelief; I would’ve never even considered such an absurd statement about predators, had I not felt it beyond my cognition. Gavin might’ve been telling the truth, when he professed how deeply he loved his children? This just couldn’t be right.

When I imagined something awful happening to the rabbit, it definitely invoked involuntary sympathy. Maybe it was the sight of blood that flipped humans from nurturing mode to hunting mode. That made sense, allowing them to differentiate between pack bonding and brutal murder; how else could a feeling creature bash an animal’s skull in? Terrans had more emotions than I thought possible, but that must be what made them such convincing liars. They had another side. I punched in the word “predation”, as my stomach growled to remind me of its needs. My eyes were trained on the floor, while I spent several seconds repeating the mantra I’d penned out on the paper.

Dead carcasses. Not food.

My pupils jerked onto the screen, and I clenched my fist to ensure I could remain in control. One photograph of massive, non-sapient predators munching at the bloodied, hollowed-out carcass of an animal, caught my attention. The fact that such pictures had been recorded and plastered on the Terran internet for all to see made me disgusted, which led to confusion over why I wasn’t feeling bloodlust. I magnified the image, zooming in on the crimson interior of a ribcage. When I forced the thought of snacking on that blood, a sick taste swelled in my throat—likely a phantom memory of what flesh tasted like. It was so acidic that it burned like upcoming puke, leaving me feeling squeamish.

It certainly wasn’t setting off the happiness receptors in my brain like the cute rabbit had, which was confusing. Hadn’t my human form really wanted to eat? I was even more surprised when I recognized the torch climbing up my throat, and I barely leaned over the trash can in time. Yellow stomach acid spewed from within my empty belly, leaving me coughing out the nasty taste. The predator instincts hadn’t been dreaming about what meat tasted like at all; the mere sight of gore was enough to induce vomiting, even on the brink of starvation. I panted, trying to spit the lingering poison out of my mouth. These reactions didn’t compute with Terrans’ known behavior one bit.

“How can a fucking predator be repulsed by blood, when they need it?” I coughed.

Rebuffed in my attempts to document the worst Terran impulses, I was back to the drawing board. A lightbulb flashed in my head, punching in, “Human desire for Venlil flesh.” This would be the perfect way to at least find predators discussing those unforgivable feelings, and then figure out what triggered the brutish side of them that I knew was in there. Once I had that information in wing, I might be able to elicit the correct responses from myself. My face lit up in an involuntary happy snarl, showing my teeth reflexively. There was one repulsive instinct to document, but I had bigger fruits to pluck.

There was a disclaimer at the top of the search, stating that safety parameters were being applied to the results. That explained the articles I’d read earlier, which must be fake publications trying to pretend beasts could be nurturers. I laughed at myself, almost falling for such a basic trick due to a few chemicals I couldn’t understand. They were clever beasts, concealing the truth from any prey who got access to their internet, but they had miscalculated thinking we couldn’t disable it. I clicked on the settings icon to remove the filters, then refreshed the page. This would show exactly what intentions humanity really had for the Ven…

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” I screamed, nearly falling out of my chair. I scrambled to close the tab with a mortified expression, though it was too late to unsee the traumatizing images. “That is what they really want from them?! By Inatala, I’m never doing…research again.”

I considered writing that finding down on my notepad, given that the Venlil deserved some warning, but I didn’t want to dwell on that for a second longer. My biological responses had been quite lacking in the instincts department, which was reassuring for my ability to maintain personal agency. Somehow, the sight of blood and death wasn’t enough to morph me into a mindless hunter. Maybe I could beat this curse, and uphold my prey values to spite Gavin McLean. Tilting my head back in thought, I considered what to do about the stomach problem. Since I still had my prey mind inside this awful skull, and didn’t consider carcass-munching normal, perhaps I could make proper choices for nourishment…even as a human.

Despite having spewed my guts out mere minutes ago, that expulsion had only brought the hunger pangs back with a vengeance. With zero desire to seek out information stored on the Terran internet, I wandered over to what looked like a refrigerator. My hands tugged at the door, finally heeding my belly’s entreaties. I recalled how humans had mixed plants and flesh at the coffee shop, and searched for a fruit item that was definitely separate from any contaminants. My meaty palm closed around a carton of blackish-blue berries, which read “blackberries.” Popping off the lid with my nimble digits, I greedily shoveled a handful between the monster’s canines. The juices sang even on human taste buds, leaving me confused why they would ever turn to morbid cuisine.

I tilted my head back, pushing the berries to the back of my throat with my tongue and using gravity to assist my swallowing. My windpipe suddenly felt very restricted, like rocks were lodged in my throat; I pounded at my neck with a fist, and tried to push saliva down to move it along. Predators…or mammals in general couldn’t swallow like Krakotl, of course; the concept of chewing with teeth was alien to me. How could you tell when the knives implanted in your mouth mashed the food enough to be safe? Did you hold the food in place with your tongue, and which teeth did what? Once the discomfort eased from my throat, I started on the next round of berries.

It was beyond strange to hear a crunching sound within my own skull, and have to mash solid objects into a pulp-like texture. I imagined the damage these fangs could do on an animal’s throat, killing them in seconds. Under the present circumstances, it was a nuisance to go through laborious motions with every bite. Nothing could just be easy with human day-to-day life. I flew through the blackberries in spite of the challenges, finding that food had never been so delicious. I emptied the carton with a satisfied snarl, and allowed the human expression to linger.

This will fix my hunger once it reaches my stomach, without partaking in flesh consumption! I’m a genius!

Feeling my spirits lifted, I snagged the notepad from my desk, and used it to take inventory of the items in the fridge. There were a ton of items that were definitely the flesh of different animals. Nathan had been just as degenerate as any other human. It got worse after I inspected the unfamiliar items. Cheese required research on the internet, which I did with some apprehension; meanwhile, the eggs were baby birds, like our own hatchlings…or the supposed younglings that humans found cute! I stuffed the vile biohazards into a bag, and trotted it out to the trash chute in the hallway. Nathan, the predator, wouldn’t be needing this filth anymore.

Thanking Inatala for the novel approach I’d thought up, I retreated back to my bed with immeasurable relief. Once my hunger wore off and I got some sleep, I’d go find some more berries—however primates did that. I couldn’t wait for the overpowering need to stop hounding me. My hand nursed the epicenter of hunger pangs in my stomach, and waited for the purity of the fruit to cleanse its appetite. Maybe I could survive on Earth with a prey mindset after all.

---

My herbivorous meal didn’t so much as take the edge off my appetite, no matter how long I waited. The hunger persisted without refrain, and I found myself crying in my bed as I tried to sleep through the pain. Despite being filled with nutritious fruits, the predator’s stomach wouldn’t accept that it had been fed; it didn’t feel the least bit full. It was addicted to flesh, and I finally gleaned that humans hunted prey because they had no choice to survive. That meant I had no choice, if I wanted to live through the next few cycles. The fact that I’d derived zero sustenance from that carton showed that Ambassador Noah had lied, when that deceiver claimed that some Terrans ate only vegetables.

That poor Noah had to live on vegetables for twenty-plus days to sell that lie on Aafa, and likely more around the Venlil. Must’ve been going crazy; I don’t know how he could bear the bloodlust agony.

Dawn was beginning to show on the horizon, and the hunger contractions had returned on their hourly schedule. Hopeless whimpers trailed from my throat, as I lamented the fact that I’d thrown away Nathan’s share of the pack’s hunting. All I had were vegetables that wouldn’t sate the beast’s intrinsic needs without carcass scraps. If I wanted to end this suffering, I’d have to hunt. My eyes stared up at the ceiling, contemplating my options. Was the ethical choice to terminate myself, rather than partake in such practices? My gaze drifted over to the research notes I’d set aside, back when my sole purpose was detailing the human condition in its actuality for prey researchers.

With a depressed sigh, I ambled over to the desk and jotted down the simple, “Creature has terrible stomach pains without flesh. Tried feeding self with fruit, to no avail.” It was then that I weighed how Houston was supposed to be a non-existent city, in my timeline; that meant I only had to press on until the extermination fleet arrived at Earth. New resolve entered my veins, as I considered how useful any information could be for Krakotl generals. Any insight that I could convince them of might help recruit more allies. Any tactical advantage I could impart may result in less prey lives lost, meaning worthy people would live for my sacrifice.

That meant I needed to hunt, in the hopes of retaining my sanity. I drew a shuddering breath, knowing that my father would never see his son’s greatest act of heroism for his people. My sins would be unthinkable, but I was going to die in this coil with the other Houston-based predators soon anyway. The animals were going to perish during the bombing, so it wouldn’t make a difference if I chose not to eat them. My fleshy cheeks burned with shame, but I resigned myself to learning how to hunt nonetheless.

“Okay. We have to do this, Narlem.” I pressed my hands to my scalp, and racked my brain for how predators hunted. I didn’t have the slightest clue where to start, while my inability to spark my instincts meant I couldn’t glean any hardwired pointers. “First, we crouch for stealth and avoiding detection, right? Then, pounce and strangle. Should be simple. Maybe the human’s muscles will remember it, like with walking.”

I brought myself as low to the ground as I could on bent knees, determining angles to lean my body not to fall. My arms were held raised, with open palms so I could strangle whatever I came in contact with. I pushed off the ground, propelling myself forward with as much power as these lanky legs could muster. My hands snapped shut around phantom prey, and I pretended to squeeze the very air from its throat. This was a graphic and violent process, but I seemed to be getting the hang of it enough to catch something small like a pigeon. Terrans were apex predators, so it couldn’t be that hard in the wild, right?

Once the sun was fully raised in the sky, I resigned myself to set off into the streets of Houston to find my first predator meal.

First | Prev | Next

A/N - Part 4! Determined to gather intelligence that'll help the Krakotl kill humanity, a starving Narlem sets out to gauge the famed predator instincts; and instead finds out that bunnies are cute, gore makes us retch, and that humans have very different ideas about the Venlil than he thought. Our narrator gets the great idea to throw out all of Nathan's "predator food", but after a single carton of fruit doesn't help, decides he has to go hunting in Houston to squash his hunger.

Do you think what Narlem has learned so far has changed his mind? How will trying to kill and eat the first animal he sees go over in the middle of a big city?

As always, thank you for reading and supporting!